Collapse, decay, end: /
dissolving into its death. /
Fungus finds a home.
Birthday cake, candles, /
ice cream, and time sliced into /
wishes and treasures.
Filed under 2018, photo by David E. Booker, poetry by author
Cat in the shadows, /
deciding friend or foe. /
Will she feed me?
Filed under 2018, photo by David E. Booker, poetry by author
Active head rest /
Surely, the car makes a jest. /
I laugh as air bag crests.
Filed under 2018, photo by David E. Booker, poetry by author
Four brothers left home for college, and they became successful doctors and lawyers.
One evening, they chatted after having dinner together. They discussed the 95th birthday gifts they were able to give their elderly mother who moved to Florida .
Milton, the first said, “You know I had a big house built for Mama.”
Marvin, the second oldest said, “And I had a large theater built in the house.”
Michael, the third son, said, “And I had my Mercedes dealer deliver an SL600 to her.”
Melvin, the youngest, said, “You know how Mama loved reading the Bible and you know she can’t read anymore because she can’t see very well. I met this preacher who told me about a parrot who could recite the entire Bible. It took ten preachers almost 8 years to teach him. I had to pledge to contribute $50,000 a year for five years to the church, but it was worth it Mama only has to name the chapter and verse, and the parrot will recite it.”
The other brothers were impressed. Sometime after the celebration, Mama sent out her Thank You notes.
She wrote: “Milton, the house you built is so huge that I live in only one room, but I have to clean the whole house. Thanks anyway.”
“Marvin, I am too old to travel. I stay home; I have my groceries delivered, so I never use the Mercedes. The thought was good. Thanks.”
“Michael, you gave me an expensive theater with Dolby sound and it can hold 50 people, but all of my friends are dead, I’ve lost my hearing, and I’m nearly blind. I’ll never use it. Thank you for the gesture just the same.”
“Dearest Melvin, you were the only son to have the good sense to give a little thought to your gift. The chicken was delicious Thank you so much.”
Love, Mama
Filed under 2018, Monday morning writing joke
A thousand thieves may /
rip the jonquils from the ground /
but they can’t steal Spring.
Filed under 2018, photo by David E. Booker, poetry by author, Uncategorized
Whipped cream mountain kiss, /
Berries touching a waffle, /
Subtly love comes.
Toast to the muses /
High and low, who grace the Earth /
With bread, wine, and song.
WHAT CAUSES ARTHRITIS?
A drunken Irishman sat down in a subway next to a priest. The man’s tie was stained, his face was red and plastered with red lipstick, a half-empty bottle of gin was sticking out of his torn coat pocket. He opened his newspaper and began reading.
After a few minutes the man turned to the priest and asked, “Say Father, what causes arthritis?”
The priest replies, “My Son, it’s caused by loose living, too much drink, contempt for your fellow man, sleeping around with prostitutes and loose women, scruffy dressing and lack of a bath.”
The drunk muttered, “Well, I’ll be damned.” Then returned to his paper.
The priest, thinking about what he had said, nudged the man and apologized. “I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to come on so strong. How long have you had arthritis?”
The drunk answered, “I don’t have it, Father. I was just reading here that the Pope does.”
Writing Remember: your characters will often have hidden motives for the things they ask or do. Bring those motives into conflict, for serious or humorous results.
Filed under 2018, Monday morning writing joke
The sign almost glowed,/
the word and the memories /
welded moments.
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