There once was a writer in the Kremlin
Whose words were always dissembling.
No matter what he’d say
The writer would explain it away –
Even when Trump was Putin dwelling.
Category Archives: Poetry by David E. Booker
Photo finish Friday: “Night ride”
Ride into the night. /
Blur of color pedals by. /
Tour of lights and life.
Haiku to you Thursday: “Thunder”
Thunder bangs the glass, /
a beggar at the window /
demanding tribute.
Haiku to you Thursday: “The Stargazer”
The stargazer grieves /
for the love he left behind /
fading into daylight.
Monday morning writing joke: “I killed her with laughter”
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.
Booker's Blog 