Tag Archives: Silly Rhymes

In Search of Kerfuffles

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Chances are one of these photos depicts a kerfuffle. Click on first photo to enlarge all and view as a slide series.


In Search of Kerfuffles

What, I must ask you, is a kerfuffle?
Is it a soufflé or perhaps a ruffle?
Is it that fuzz that hides under beds
or those stubborn snarls at the back of our heads?
Perhaps they are tasty and come with whipped cream—
a dieter’s nightmare, a sweet tooth’s fine dream.
Do kerfuffles have feathers and beaks on their noses 
to fly overhead and poop on our clotheses?
Does one have to walk them or clean up their messes?
I’m no closer to knowing, in spite of these guesses.
Guess I’ll quit my job and pack up a duffle,
set off in the world to find a kerfuffle.
And when I discover it, I’ll bring it home
and finally be able to finish this poem.

The Ragtag prompt today was kerfuffle.

Hooyah!!!

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This may be the silliest poem I ever wrote.  It is what happens when you discover an overlooked prompt at 3:42 in the morning!!!

 

Word from Your Mentors

When you are a bad boy, we are going to have to boo ya,
and when you make no sense at all, we’re gonna ballyhoo ya.
When you are confused, we will for sure be trying to clue ya
in on what is happening, and then we’ll have to queue ya
up for music lessons where we’ll one ya and we’ll two ya,
making you so musical the girls will want to woo ya,
and all the other boys in town will really want to sue ya
‘cuz all the girls that turn their heads only want to do ya!
But never mind those other guys who hiss at and eschew ya.
As you walk down the aisle, we will shout out hallelujah,
for though the other guys may pine over your bride and rue ya,
seeing you in wedded bliss, the rest of us say, “Hooyah!!!”

Ragtag gave a bonus prompt yesterday and since I find myself awake at 3:42 a.m. with nothing better to do, I guess I’ll play along.  The word is Hooyah!

Impromptu Gallery

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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

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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.)

Goblins

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Goblins

They steal into town to pillage and croon,
Invading on tiptoe, every third moon.
With fiery red hair and warts on their noses,
they cut all the tulips and pee on the roses.
Venting belches that reek of porter and scallions,
they chase all the ladies in randy battalions
and press scaly lips on unwilling misses
who scamper away to wipe off their kisses.
But still the next morning, their sickly taste lingers
on unlucky lips and unfortunate fingers
of girls who’ve attempted to purge these advances
that with lecherous hobgoblins pass for romances.
So all ye young maidens take heed of this warning.
Put off your wanderings until the morning!

 

 Further thinking about whether there are in fact girl goblins and what their activities might be regarding human boys led me to write this additional (very bad) poem: https://judydykstrabrown.com/2018/04/27/questions-of-diminution/

The NaPoWriMo prompt was: write a poem that includes images that engage all five senses. Thanks to Forgottenman for adding the “goblin” prompt to the mix.

Uriah Heep Meets Rocky Balboa on Rodeo Drive

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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.

“Ant”cestry.Com

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“Ant”cestry.Com

“I think we may be family,” was whispered in his ear,
but he couldn’t see who said it, though he looked both far and near.
Again that small voice spoke to him. “We share a family name,
although as the biggest, you possess most of the fame.”

Thus did the massive elephant notice for the first time
the tiniest of animals who’d finished its long climb
from the dirt so far below up to his mighty ear.
From foot to knee to shoulder, it had climbed in spite of fear

that one great flinch might cast it from the air down to the ground.
Yet still it journeyed upwards, driven to expound
on how great an irony, surely it must be,
that this small “ant” and the eleph”ant” must be family!

NaPoWriMo 2018, Day 9: write a poem in which something big and something small come together.

“Set to Music” Naughty Little Pleasures

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My talented friend Christine Anfossie just surprised me with a musical rendition of my poem “Naughty Little Pleasures,” a poem I wrote for day 1 of NaPoWriMo 2018. If  you’d like to hear it, click on the arrow below:

https://judydykstrabrown.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/04/naughty-pleasures-new-2.wav

If you like to read along, here is the poem again:

Naughty LIttle Pleasures

Naughty little pleasures, secret little games—
they are our private treasures, these solitary shames.
We never can admit them to family or friends,
for fear that doing so would  bring about their ends.
Childhood is when our private pleasure starts—
not stifling our sneezes or holding back our farts.
Eating the last cupcake or hiding Grandpa’s teeth.
Watching skirts on windy days to see what’s underneath.
Torturing sister’s Barbie Dolls and kidnapping her bears.
Reading Daddy’s magazines underneath the stairs.
Guzzling ice cream from the carton and milk right from the spout.
Opening sister’s love letters to see what they’re about.
Telling mom you’ll help her because she’s running late,
then licking all the cookies you’re putting on the plate.
If being perfect were more fun, then probably we would,
but there’s little pleasure in always being good.

NaPoWriMo

dVerse Poets Pub: Silly Fashion

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Silly Fashion

July to March, April to June,
stir your boredom with a spoon.
Use a pot to brew your passion.
Clothe yourself in timely fashion.
Wear a bagel as a hat.
Steam up the air, water the cat.
Do what you must to pass the day,
for all things pass too soon away.

 

For dVerse Poets Pub

The Forgottenman Challenge. Done!!

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After seeing my mixed bouquet in Cee’s daily flower challenge, Forgottenman challenged me to write a poem making use of the name of every flower in the bouquet.  Okay F-man, here it is. I rise to every challenge!!! (The names of the flowers in the bouquet are in bold print.)

Zinnia was the fairest maid the town had ever grown.
She flirted with the mill boy and claimed him as her own.
She rose and fed their baby with a silver spoon
each morning as her husband lay abed ’til noon.
To wake him up, she lay their child well within his reaches.
He woke to that sweet baby’s breath-—just redolent of peaches.
Brushing off her flour-dusted lover, Zinnia sent him on his way
to grind more grain for townsfolk who had the means to pay,
for although her dusty miller was not the working kind,
true love will not buy Gerbers nor diaper a behind.

Here is the bouquet again:

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Bouquet of zinnias, roses, baby’s breath, dusty miller, Gerber daisies.  jdb photo

Another response to Cee’s daily flower prompt.