Empty as a pocket /
We compared mythologies /
Midnight to devastation.
Empty as a pocket /
We compared mythologies /
Midnight to devastation.
Filed under 2019, Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
I killed her with laughter.
She lies dead on the floor.
For many many years
she I just tried to ignore.
She was a noisy neighbor
a Gladys Kravitz type
who took the smallest thing
and gave it biggest hype.
Then one sunny day,
I told her a joke.
It wasn’t very funny
but she began to choke.
I stood there and stared
wondering what I should do.
She made the choking sign
and I knew she was through.
I should have helped her –
this I know now –
but I was glad to be rid of her
that nosy neighbor cow.
The house she lived in
has strange new residents.
I hope to meet them
but their nose never relents.
In the middle of night
I’ll hear a freight train.
It’s charging through my bedroom!
I’m going insane!
I have been spying on them
to find out what I can do.
Then one of them came over
and started with a joke or two.
There once was a writer doggerel
Whose writing sounded as if you should gargle.
Rhymes and diphthongs
The words never got along
Sounding like the speech of a mongrel.
Filed under 2019, Monday morning writing joke, poetry by author
There once was a chef from Kent
who knew not how her evening was spent.
With her panties aside
had she hitched up for a ride?
Or was that dampness some other condiment?

Filed under 2019, Monday morning writing joke, poetry by author

Grackle challenges /
The world in a winged moment. /
Woodpecker defends.
The sky reigns in tears /
A billion trillion stars /
Beacons for the past.
Filed under 2019, Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
There once was a writer of poems
Who had a side job fixing homes.
While making a repair
He tore pants and underwear
And displayed a couplet best left alone.
Filed under 2019, Monday morning writing joke, poetry by author
There one day was a poet of the absurd
Who one day gave her word.
She’d tell it straight one day
Come what May
Or the one day she became a bird.
Filed under 2019, Monday morning writing joke, poetry by author
There once was a writer of verse
Who had a wish so perverse.
He put pen to paper
And hoped he’d become Satyr,
But what he became was even much worse.
He had hooves, horns, and some hide
Enough to frighten his would-be bride.
When he glanced in the mirror,
He couldn’t have looked any queerer
Even with the nannies by his side.
Filed under 2019, Monday morning writing joke, poetry by author

Thoughts and prayers
Thoughts and prayers
Are like underwear —
They can keep some crap from spilling.
But when they fill
There is no thrill
When no one does any repairing.
Filed under 2019, Photo Finish Friday, poetry by author