The key to the conversation.
Filed under 2024, Cartoon, fun, joke, Monday morning writing joke
The Fog is Afoot
The fog is afoot.
The door is ajar.
The jam is on the highway.
The toast is in the bar.
The world is elemental
Or maybe it’s just gone nuts.
I would lie next to you
But truth be we’d be abut.
You can be in arrears,
But you won’t have more than one.
Things aren’t as they appear,
But a pear ripens in the sun.
I can pucker my lips
If you want to buss,
Or I can look very foolish
As you mount the bus.
You can mount a stead
Or even a campaign
At the end of the day
The results may amount to pain.
There is no anear,
But the stars are afar.
We can be in accord,
But not in a musical bar.
The measure of a man
Maybe of little note.
But notes in a measure
Keep the song afloat.
So is a song a boat
Afloat on a river?
Oar are we lost at sea
Our arrows and us aquiver?
Love is a mystery,
The deepest some have said.
I don’t know, though
It may all soon come to ahead.
You could be apart
Or a part of loving pair
Love is a strange feeling
That the estranged do not share.
So, is the fog afoot?
Is the door ajar?
Is love as near
As a falling star?
If you’re in a jam,
Can you be in a preserve,
Or is that only something
fruit and animals deserve?
Lovers have forever asked
And Philosophers have refrained,
If to be in love is love.
Is to be insane sane?
.
.
#021323 #poem #poetry #rhymes #rhymingpoetry #puns #afoot #ajar #fog #language #photo #oldnorthknoxville #love #davidebooker #february #monday #021323 #2023
The plan
There once was a writer who wrote Santa. /
He asked for a book marketing plan to /
Put his novel on top /
And not be a flop. /
Now, he only has to write another 80 grand-ah.
Filed under 2022, limerick, Monday morning writing joke, poem, poetry, poetry by author, Poetry by David E. Booker
O’ (un)holy Krampus Night.
There is a being named Krampus
Who this night comes for some of us.
Some of us will go
To where, we don’t know
But that will leave more gifts for the rest of us.
Filed under 2022, Monday morning writing joke, poem, poetry, Poetry by David E. Booker
There once was a writer in a bookstore /
Of her novels, she wanted to see more. /
Up on the shelves /
She wanted them to dwell /
But first she had to do more than adore.
There once was a writer of romance, /
Who left very little to chance. /
Her imagination /
Was only a way station, /
For her prose to cavort and prance.
.
.
#limerick #romance #writer #imagination #cavort #prance #writinghumor #poem #poetry #davidebooker #october #monday #101022 #2022
Filed under 2022, Monday morning writing joke, poem, poetry, Poetry by David E. Booker
The private eye disguise
In glasses and bushy brows,
With nose and funny mustache
Able to deceive the soused.
I am impersonating the author,
The teller of these tall tales
Of tarnish valor and unfair maidens
And life’s sordid travails.
It is hard to fake the writing
To sit here and make stuff up.
The computer stares at me blankly
Like an audience saying, “Never enough.”
I can’t take one more day,
Maybe not ever one more hour.
I’m looking for the clues,
But everything turns up sour.
The writer has disappeared,
The creator now uncreated.
And everything I try or do
Comes out jaded or simply dated.
I am the created cliche,
Left behind to hold this space.
O’ author come back to me
So my future won’t be erased.
091222
Filed under 2022, Monday morning writing joke, photo, poem, poetry, Poetry by David E. Booker
There once was writer named Maxwell/
Who wrote only things factual /
Imagination, he said, /
Was not in his head. /
Then he was eaten by a Pterodactyl.
Filed under 2022, Monday morning writing joke, poem, poetry, Poetry by David E. Booker
There one was a writer named Flynn, /
Who had trouble knowing where to begin. /
In medias res, /
he heard was the place. /
but he didn’t know how to get in.
Filed under 2022, Monday morning writing joke, poem, poetry, Poetry by David E. Booker
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