Tag Archives: silly poem

The Gawkey and Flaybottomist, NaPoWriMo 2019, Apr 24

“The Gawkey and Flaybottomist—Who Should Have Stopped When First They Kissed”

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I guess when I chose to use the 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue  from my own bookshelf, I should have realized that at least 1/2 of the terms would involve sexual innuendo. Nonetheless, I decided to proceed. I must warn you that the following poem is a bit risqué, so please avoid reading it if rude language offends thee!

The 16 terms I used and their definitions are given after the poem. If you wish, you might want to read them before the poem, or you can try to follow context clues to discover their meaning on your own:

 

“The Gawkey and Flaybottomist—Who Should Have Stopped When First They Kissed”

I predict the cross patch and the flaybottomist
are the sort of women least likely to be kissed.
The first’s so busy grumbling that the kiss never connected,
while the second merely thinks of how the kiss may be corrected.

Now, there was an awkward village boy excessively unworldly,
that on one occasion had acted most absurdly
by planting a fast buss upon his teacher’s nearby cheek
then since he was both young and shy, he beat a fast retreat.

The following week when mellow, he thought he’d try again—
His amorous nature brought out by much congress with his gin.
He desired a bit of relish, and the gin made him a fool
So he took his gaying instrument up to the village school.

I fear he was a gawkey–the worst that you might meet,
and he tripped over his crab shells as he stumbled up the street.
The roaring boys pursued him, thinking they would later cackle
leaking all the secrets of where gawkey stowed his tackle.

Upon his knock, the school teacher opened up the door,
attired in her negligee–and I fear nothing more.
She greeted him with Friday-face, but he took little note,
for he was practicing the lines that he had learned by rote.

The teacher was a dumplin and her suitor tall and thin,
yet when she heard his practiced plea, I fear she let him in.
But what he didn’t know then, as he quenched his carnal thirst
was that on that night of visitors, he was not the first.

The reason our flaybottomist had greeted him ungowned,
clad only in her negligee and with her hair unwound,
was because the French instructor had been there to give instruction—
a fact that I fear later led to misery and destruction.

For her tutor left her Frenchified, which she passed to the gawkey,
who took his French leave quickly, feeling a good deal less cocky.
The moral of this little tale—at least the one you’ll get?
Things are apt to get sticky when you’re the teacher’s pet!

 

Words from the 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue used in this poem:

*crab shells:  Irish, shoes
*gawkey: a tall, thin, awkward man or woman
*gaying instrument: the penis
*cross patch: a peevish boy or girl, an unsocial or ill-tempered man or woman
*relish: carnal connection with a woman
*cackle or leaky: to blab or reveal secrets
*roaring boy: a noisy, riotous fellow
*flaybottomist: a schoolteacher
*mellow: almost drunk
*dumplin: a short thick man or woman
*tackle:  a man’s genitals
*Friday-face:  a dismal countenance (Friday being a day of abstinence.)
*French leave: to go off without taking leave of the company
*Frenchified: infected with venereal disease.
*Negligee: a woman’s undressed gown,
*buss: a kiss “kissing and bussing differ both in this, We busse our wantons,
but our wives we kisse! (Robert Herrick, “Hesperides,” 1648) from buss, 1570.

The NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a poem influenced by a reference book. This poem was actually written for a similar NaPoWriMo prompt three years ago and I know the point is to write a poem a day, but since I always write another poem a day anyway making use of four prompts, and will do so today, I reckon this isn’t cheating.

Word Soup, Apr 22, 2019

 

My “Not Yet Dead Poets” group met at 2 p.m. yesterday and when I got home at 5, I was pooped, since I hadn’t gone to bed until nearly 5 a.m. the night (morning) before so had only had four hours sleep. I fed the cats and dogs (I hope), put the soup in the slow cooker on high, and lay down for a little nap. I was awakened at 3 a.m. by Annie my cat, demanding to be fed, so I got up,  put the bean soup in the fridge, read email messages and a Skype message from Forgottenman expressing worry, first of all, that I was okay, and secondly, amazement that I hadn’t posted yesterday for the first time in 5 years. It’s true, although I did post yesterday’s topic in NaPoWriMo, the  night before, so I’m still claiming to have maintained my habit.  So, here’s my poem owed from yesterday. Don’t expect too much, ’cause I am, as stated below in the title––

Just Scraping By

My foray into poesy I fear will be most terse.
At 4 a.m. I fear that you’d probably do worse.
I’m fortified with coffee and determined to come through.
I’ve done yesterday’s dishes and journeyed to the loo,
but still associations don’t pop into my mind,
and so for clever rhymes I fear I’m in a bind.
And though I’d like to come up with a better poem for you,
I got all four damn words in and I guess that it must do.

Prompt words today are foray, terse, fort and association. Here are the links:
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/04/22/rdp-monday-foray/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/04/22/fowc-with-fandango-terse/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/04/22/fort/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/04/22/your-daily-word-prompt-association-april-22-2019/

Baker’s Dozen

 

A dozen fatal flaws forgiven seems to be a fair number to allot to anyone. It’s that thirteenth misdeed that is unforgivable!

Baker’s Dozen

(Only So Much Forgiveness to Go Around)

I forgive you for hogging the covers
and eating the last cookie, too.
I forgive you for doing the crossword
that I was intending to do.

I forgive you for all of the dogs you brought home
that you’ve never walked even once
and for donating genes to our children
that turned them each into a dunce.

I don’t mind your poker night forays
or the damage you do to my car,
or the fact that your minimal salary
really can’t stretch very far.

Your spare tires and the fact that you’re balding
really don’t bother me much.
I’ve grown used to your slobbery kisses,
and the foreplay no more than a clutch.

But there’s one thing that you always do, dear,
that rouses my most  primal scream,
for I had made plans for a tryst with
that last pint of chocolate ice cream!

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For dVerse Poets, Forgiveness.

Odd Couple

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Odd Couple

She had a nature most erratic
whereas his was mainly static.
She was a girl who liked to rock.
All day he sat and watched the clock.
Few pleasures did he ever find
in his life work’s daily grind.

When they first met, I must confess,
he questioned how she chose to dress.
High heels with socks were not the way
that ladies dressed back in his day.
She was eighteen and he was forty.
She dressed funky. He dressed sporty.

He liked golf. She loved the clubs.
She chewed her fingernails to stubs
worrying about the planet’s fate.
She slept around. He didn’t date
and worried not about emissions
nor those Save the Earth commissions.

What soul who knew them both would guess
they’d ever meet, or even less
imagine that they’d get along—
he with his pipe, her with her bong?
Let’s put them in each other’s way.
See how they’d act. See what they’d say.

She meanders through the park
in the evening, before dark.
He’s walking home from the ninth hole.
She rounds the corner, he crests the knoll.
They meet soon on the walkway path.
They have to pass. You do the math!

She eyes his clubs. He eyes her socks.
Her expression questions, but his mocks.
He doesn’t nod, she doesn’t greet.
If you were wishing they might meet,
you’ll have to write your own romance.
These two as lovers? There’s no chance!!!

 

Prompt words today were rock and guess. Here are links:

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/02/24/rdp-sunday-rock/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/02/24/guess/

One Rhyme Friday: Rude Awakening

 

Rude Awakening

I must say that I don’t believe and in fact, I eschew
your variety of reasons for doing what you do:
cutting right in near the front of a lengthy queue,
breaking into conversations never meant for you
or gobbling down two cookies when there are just a few.
All of these rude actions are things that make me rue
the day that you arrived in town and first came into view.
You shuffled ‘cross the dance floor, doing the old soft shoe,
asked if you could have a dance and then commenced to woo.
Oh, if only that was something that I could undo!
I’m tired of your rudeness that you seem to do on cue
whenever there is someone interesting or new
that I’d like to get to know. You just don’t have a clue.
But stuff this in your big mouth, please, and then begin to chew.
You be the ass. You be the monkey. Be the kangaroo.
I no longer want to be the trainer in your little zoo!

 

Want to try doing a poem that makes use of only one rhyme?  Write one and send me a link to it in my comments.

 

https://fivedotoh.com/2019/02/15/fowc-with-fandango-variety/

The Perils of Memory Lane


The Perils of Memory Lane

I’m taking a vacation with my mother and my aunts.
On their sentimental journey, we’ll visit their old haunts.
I’m afraid I have my worries, but I’m hoping all goes well,
and I’m trying my hardest my anxieties to quell.
Our travel plans will take us from the east coast to the plain
of wild South Dakota, and then back home again.

We’re going in September to see the lovely sight
of brilliant autumn colors falling from great height.
Then their favorite Japanese garden will include a bonsai florist

and an attraction of their youth: the Badlands Petrified Forest.
First will be Connecticut to see the falling leaves.
They’ll rain down on our bodies: shoulders, faces, sleeves.

The tiny bonsai gardens will not pose a threat.
When leaflets fall upon my feet, I will not fuss or fret.
Of these stops on our journey, I am not scared at all,
but I worry what will happen this year in the fall
when we tour the petrified forest. Will its trees begin to shed
leaves turned to stones and pebbles that will fall upon my head?

The prompt words today are leaflet, petrified, sentiment and hope.

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/02/12/rdp-tuesday-leaflet/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/02/12/fowc-with-fandango-petrified/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/02/12/your-daily-word-prompt-sentiment-february-12-2019/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/02/12/hope/

The Perfectionist

The Perfectionist

Change not a hair of thy fair head if it be for me.
I like you just as you are now from pate to chin to knee.
Your shins, though, are too shinny. Your ankles too well-turned.
Your heels? Shockingly callused. Consider yourself spurned.

For the dVerse Poets Quadrille Challenge.

Overheard In the Home for Retired Musicians


Overheard in the Home for Retired Musicians

I’m stymied by your crepitus. Your embouchure’s divine.
If you don’t have your own tune, would you harmonize with mine?
Your tonality is breathtaking, your rhythm right on beat.
Your syncopation’s perfect. I fear I can’t compete.
As we play, our joints keep time. My knees snap, crackle, pop.
If our music were to lead to love, you’d have to be on top!

 

The prompt words today are crepitus, stymie, breathtaking and embouchure.

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/01/08/rdp-tuesday-crepitus/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/01/08/fowc-with-fandango-stymie/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/01/08/breathtaking/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/01/08/your-daily-word-prompt-embouchure-january-8-2019/

Menagerie

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Menagerie

When she asked us to sleep over, we had no trepidation,
but this one-night segment of our motoring vacation
was a lapse in judgment we will not soon forget,
for though we are assuredly most deeply in her debt,

we didn’t know the bed she offered came complete with pets
not to mention wild creatures struggling overhead in nets!
We can forgive her for the kitten who just curled up on our bed,
sometimes on the foot of it and sometimes at the head.

The puppy, though mischievous, we grew accustomed to,
only suffering damage to a purse strap and one shoe.
Successful in their recovery, we sealed our luggage up,
opened up our bedroom door and exorcised the pup.

Flipping off the  light, we offered gratitude for rest,
closed our weary eyes and did our very best
to try to get a full night’s sleep, but it was late in coming,
for our next visitation came complete with constant drumming

as various creatures of the night knocked against the netting
hanging down around our bed, we commenced regretting
accepting her generous offer of a free night’s lodging.
We didn’t know the various creatures we’d be dodging.

The monkey we grew used to, but not the kangaroo
who boxed my husband’s earlobes and trod upon my shoe.
The cockatoos and lorikeets slept peaceful through the night,
but in the morning wakened us at the dawn’s first light

with such a loud cacophony that jolted us awake
and luckily allowed us to leave before the snake
slithered  from where it rested, coiled beneath the sheet.
And that was it! That final guest signaled our defeat.

For though we have great gratitude for the invitation,
I cannot overemphasize the complete jubilation
we felt upon exiting that jungle she calls home.
And need we tell you that the next time we choose to roam,

we’ll gladly pay the room rates for a first-class lodgings?
We’re finished with the hassles and the terrors and the dodgings
that come with staying with relatives such as sister Sue
who forgot to warn us we’d be staying in a zoo!!

 

The prompt words today were hospitality, forgive, recovery and gratitude.

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/01/04/rdp-friday-hospitality/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/01/04/fowc-with-fandango-forgive/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/01/04/your-daily-word-prompt-recovery-January-4-2019/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/01/04/gratitude/

The Real Dirt

 

 

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The Real Dirt

Dirt has had, since its inception,
an unfair place in our conception—
a thing for us to rail against
and throw the laundry pail against.

Dirty thoughts are seen as rude,
and yet dirt grows our daily food.
Without it, we would flail and totter.
Impossible to walk on water!

The prompt words today are dirt and inception.
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/12/30/rdp-sunday-dirt/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/12/30/inception/