Tag Archives: Silly Poems

Some Cursory Comments

Some Cursory Comments

My cursory comments I doubt will draw raves,
garner no compliments, create no waves.
Words cast to the wee hours have little wit.
It would be no loss if they never were writ.
And yet they keep coming, first one, then the next.
Doubtless their readers will be sorely vexed
to see that these lines here are nothing but fluff.
Cursory comments are rarely enough!!!

For Fandango’s Cursory prompt.

If You Break My Piñata

If You Break My Piñata

Bug wumples and persnickadoodles.
Gyre-whipped and Polka-dotted.
When I jiggled the piñata of my center-brain,
that’s what fell out.
There’s a whole world in there that’s as open as free love, and
no whippersnapper’s gonna convince me of the opposite.

Why plod when you can boogiesnatch?
Why mince when you can frollope?
Some bug-eyes sit on the fence and just watch the world go by,
but I say you gotta join in the parade.
Shake your wigglewaggle and gyrate your genombres.
They like it that way. They been boxed up too long.

You got a bundersnatch cowering in your credenza.
Open the door and let it boogie out.
It will educate you about the flibberdaddles and teach you the fandango.
Your hips will not know what to do with all they will teach them.
Your toes will flippietoe and your fingers will twiddle.
Your eyeballs will roll in their sockets and your teeth will chatterbox.

Knock-kneed and pigeon-toed, you’ll mince and you’ll canter.
Things will fall from your memory like wrapped candies from a piñata.
You will find toys and prizes and weird hats to change your future.
You will find wind-up creatures that you can wind into life
so they become realer than reality:
blop doodles and freinoys that will perch on your shoulder and execute the tango.

Curlicues to burrow into your ears and open you up to a new kind of music
where the notes are laughter and the rests are heaven.
If you don’t want any of this, then don’t swing your stick at my piñata,
‘cuz if you do and if you are successful,
it will be nothing short of strandacious.
The weak of heart need not play.

This is the dVerse Poets prompt: Say you were going to write a personal ad and didn’t want to waste your or anyone else’s time with a clichéd list of “best qualities”, acronyms on status, race, and sex, or interests such as “love taking long walks on the beach.” (Who doesn’t?) You can write your ad looking for a potential life partner or, visualize your fallen apart soul that has crumbled along life’s rugged path and you are trying to gather all the pieces to become whole once more. Honesty behooves you and your ‘missing part’ as it is the only way to attract that which you seek. Write a poem that only your intended audience will get. Show them who you are, not who you want the world to see. 

Travel Advisory for Marital Bliss


Click on any photo to enlarge all.

For dVerse Poets today, we were to compose a poem making use of the following street names:
Rope Walk, Potacre Street, Silver Street, Catshole Lane, Buttgarden Stree, Gas Lane, Coral Avenue, Dragon Hill, Baron Way, Mutton Lane. Well, I used them all, but don’t blame me for the zaniness of the following:

Travel Advisory for Marital Bliss

When I’m asked to walk the rope,
I am most likely to say, “Nope!”
But(t) Garden Street sounds more ornate.
I might pass through its flowery gate.
I won’t be Dragon up the Hill.
Don’t do inclines, and never will.
Silver and Coral? My confession
is that they suit my old profession
as a silversmith and vendor,
so if you are a generous spender,
I’ll go on a buying spree
and sell the results, then, to thee.

Don’t go for mutton. It ends in gas,
so on those two, I’ll have to pass.
There’s a barrier on Baron Way.
I can’t go there, for no one may.
Acres of potholes also mar
Potacre Street and so my car
must avoid both Catshole and it
lest we wind up in a pit,
damaging our undercarriage
and my stability of marriage.

Are we going there? The wife says no,
for she decides where we will go.
So, much as I would like to wander
up all those streets up over yonder,
dVerse Poets are not my boss,
so this adventure will be my loss.
And though I will not ace your test,
all-in-all, I think it’s best
to limit where I’m going to roam
and simply take the fast route home.

For dVerse Poets Pub prompt.

Impromptu Gallery


Impromptu Gallery

This tennis fact you might observe
when a certain lady goes to serve:
each man who passes tends to swerve
to watch neither her skill nor verve,
but her body’s line and curve––
(each one a visual hors d’oeuvre.)

They keep their thoughts well in reserve,
for no observer has the nerve
to risk the censure he might deserve
in revealing  himself as a perv.
And thus can Mel and Chuck and Irv
their conjugal harmonies conserve.


The WordPress Daily Prompt is observe.

Questions of Diminution


Questions of Diminution

Are lady goblins goblets
or tiny fobs called fobblets?
A little blob a bloblet?
An hors d’ oeuvre corn a coblet?
A little daub a daublet?
A short-lived job a joblet?
A mob of tots a moblet?
A jewel box knob a knoblet?
A minor theft a robblet?
A single tear a sobblet?

(Very sorry for this one. Blame it on the goblin prompt given by Forgottenman and the resultant mental processes that led to my having to research whether there were in fact also female goblins. The answer is still somewhat unresolved.)

July 3, 1947


July 3, 1947

The date above is notable
for reasons that are quotable.
It marks the birth of someone who
has  brought these few words into view
to put them in her blogging queue.
(True, that is what all bloggers do.)

But if there is a blogging heaven,
four thousand one hundred fifty-seven
might certainly be in the running
for snapshotting, rhyming and punning—
all those things we bloggers do
to try to get a rise from you.

In fact, in numbers I’ve been sparing
in how my blog count has been faring.
Blogs four thousand one-fifty-nine
are the numbers I claim as mine
for former blog posts that are done.
The next will end in sixty-one!

With sixty, alas, nothing rhymes
and so it is the least of crimes
that I don’t quote it as a score.
A small malfeasance, nothing more.
As poems go, this is not the best,
so please just rate me by the rest!


The prompt today is notable.

Uriah Heep Meets Rocky Balboa on Rodeo Drive

Uriah Heep–an unctuous, cringing, overly-humble character from Charles Dickens was chosen by the British Telegraph as one of their favorite Dickens characters. I chose him as well for a meeting with another rather hard-to-take notable fictional figure way back at the beginning of my blog. Few people read that silly poem that chronicled the meeting between Heep and Rocky Balboa. HERE is a link if you’d like to take a peek back at it.

A portrait of Uriah Heep by Frederick Barnard (1846-1896), which was used to illustrate David Copperfield by Charles Dickens.

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A portrait of Uriah Heep by Frederick Barnard (1846-1896), which was used to illustrate David Copperfield by Charles Dickens. Photo: Alamy

The WordPress prompt today is bestow.