Tag Archives: Silly Poems

dVerse Writers: The Ballad of Henry and Ruth

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The prompt was to write a poem in a certain musical style.  This tale is heart-rending in a typical late-50’s, early-60’s style. If you were alive and paying attention during that era, you should be able to put a tune to it:

The Ballad of Henry and Ruth

Before she met him at the candy store,
her days were empty and her life was a bore;
but when he offered her his Jujyfruits,
in just a moment they were in cahoots.
He was the drummer in an R&R band.
Down all 5th Avenue, he held her hand.
She felt his pulse beat pump a sweet love tune
and knew he’d be her Sugar Daddy soon.

Chorus:
Yes she met him at the candy store,
between the sucker rack and front screen door.
He nearly tripped over her Mary Janes
and crashed into a rack of Candy Canes.
The Double Bubble and the Tootsie Roll Pops
collided with the mints and lemon drops.
Their love was written in the moon and stars,
but realized beneath the Hershey Bars!

Oh Henry, she was crooning, and much more.
He loved this Bit O’ Honey down to the core.
Shifted his Firestick and they went for a ride
his Baby Ruth snuggled right up to his side.
She cried, “Oh, Henry!” as they hit the Mounds,
poppin’ wheelies as they did the rounds.
He was no Slo-Poke, tell you here and now,
so as he swerved to miss a big Black Cow,

The car rolled over on its Rollo Bars
crashing into six  more hot rod cars.
“Atomic Fireball” said the words on his car.
Now how appropriate those two words are.
100 Grand it costs him on Payday
so he’ll be working every night and day—
his Red Hot mama working by his side,
for now his Sweet Tart is his blushing bride.

Repeat Chorus:

Just in case you weren’t around way back then, I’ve italicized the names of the candy bars and hard candies of the era. Sorry for ruining the fun of those of you familiar with the times. I know.  It’s pretty bad, but that, too, was typical of the songs of the era.

This poem suits today’s dVerse prompt so well, that I have to submit it again, two years after its first appearance!

This poem is written to a prompt at dVerse Writers.

After Vespers

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After Vespers

I arrived home with much ado,
removed a small stone from my shoe,
took off my girdle, straightened my hat,
smoothed my gloves and kissed the cat!
I believe in proper things––
all the joys good breeding brings.
I do not spit, smoke weed or curse.
I carry breath mints in my purse.

I go to church. I tithe and pray.
I brush my teeth three times a day.
But when I went to watch TV,
I found a strange sight greeting me,
for there sitting upon my couch,
next to my little cat treat pouch,
were two small beings––a her and he––
the lady perched on the fellow’s knee.

They both looked up with cool aplomb
as though they hadn’t dropped a bomb
appearing with no invitation.
What’s more, to my great perturbation,
balanced on the lady’s knee
was the chocolate cake I’d meant for me!!!

She took a bite and gave him one,
then turned to me when she was done,
addressing me, though we’d not met.
(I mean, just how rude could one get?)
And what she said in a haughty tone,
perched upon her human throne?
“I’m afraid this cake is rather dry.
I wonder, have you any pie?”

I’ll tell you no more of this story,
for after that, things just got gory.
My opening words would seem most pale
compared to the ending of my tale.
Suffice it then for me to say
the uninvited didn’t stay.
Afterwards, my gloves came off.
I cleared my throat and gave a cough.

I scraped the cake crumbs in the sink,
mixed myself a little drink,
closed the drapes, unplugged the phone
and stretched out on my couch––alone.
As I settled down to Downton Abbey,
I was feeling way less crabby.
Real glad I hid the pie, y’all,
because I sat and ate it all!!!

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The Prompt: Unexpected Guests. You walk into your home to find a couple you don’t know sitting in your living room, eating a slice of cake. Tell us what happens next.  What a hilarious prompt!  I loved writing this one.
 https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/unexpected-guests/

Dem Bones: JNW’s Writing and Prompt Generator

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This is a very strange poem written at an exceedingly early hour to the prompt: Orange Bone (If you read this on the Reader, you won’t see all facets of the poem.  You must go to my site to do so.)

                                                                      Dem Bones

Mexico has tickled my orange bone–
every sedate instinct concerning décor
flown out the window like a freed hummingbird.

A bright gold house with fuchsia trim.
Orange living room with blue and green and red arches.
Denim blue entryway and chartreuse hall.
A turquoise beam in the pumpkin kitchen.

If you have a bone to pick with me over my choice of colors,
it will tickle my funny bone tell you
that I am bone tired
of beige and cream and grey.
Any bonehead can paint a house eggshell or vanilla.
Use marrow of bone
to flavor the soup,
but give me colors that will stir my crazy bone.

Give me cinnamon, mustard, raspberry, persimmon.
Those are colors to make a meal of.
These colors excite and wear me out–
make me bone lazy.

Boney Maroney
with paint under my fingernails.
Vivid. Flashing. Vibrant.
Colors that have satisfied
my orange bone.

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This prompt was generated from:  http://jennifernicholewells.blogspot.mx/2015/08/jnws-writing-photo-prompt-generator.html

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Shooing with Tongue on the Tongue of a Shoe

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To celebrate my 400th posting, I am going to follow the “Poets and Writers” prompt instead of the WordPress one. To see their weekly prose and poetry prompts, go here: http://www.pw.org/writing-prompts-exercises

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                 McPeevish McPue on a good day

The Prompt: Whimsical Creature—This week, write a whimsical, nonsensical poem about a creature you’ve dreamt up. Try to let go of the meanings associated with the words you use every day when describing this creature. Instead, use words as springboards for weird associations, as colors in a vast mural. Let your mind run wild and hang on for the ride.

 

Shooing with Tongue on the Tongue of a Shoe

There once was a grouch named McPeevish McPue
who spent his whole life on the tongue of a shoe
where he shooed away flintocks* and floogles* and stuff.
As a matter of fact, he would get downright rough.

 He would beat them with bagels and flog them with floggles
from the foot of their feet to the top of their toggles.
Then he bopped them again every minute or two
till those flintocks and floogles were beat black and blue.

But they just wouldn’t leave until McPue had sung
a rock-a-bye ballad with only one lung.
Then they leapt and they lithered until they were gung.
Now McPeevish McPue only shoos with his tongue!

*Floogles: fairy folk who get even with grouches by spraying foot odor into their shoes daily.

*Flintocks: I’m not completely sure what flintocks are, other than the fact that they drive McPeevish McPue crazy. I’m counting on my readers to tell me more about them.