Tag Archives: rhyming

“In a slump”

In a slump

My bowels had been in a slump.

Now, I so needed to take a dump.

I ran to the nearest men’s room

Only to face dread and certain doom.

A sign I saw posted there

Made its sole declare:

“Closed for a private event. Our apologies.”

Now, now, how could this event be?

When be an event rumbling in me.

Rumbling to manifest itself

Soon in my light pants’ shelf.

I cried to the heavenly powers.

How could this be as this desperate hour?

My flight leaves in a just a short bit.

I had just enough time to give a sh–.

Now I hop like a bunny at Easter

A turd egg stuck suspended up in my keister.

And if I didn’t lay it soon.

I’d be stuck here until well past noon.

By then my flight would be in the air

And my dark egg settled in my underwear.

With my urgency driving me blind

I decided to rush past the sign.

What’s the worst they could do?

If you only I knew, only I knew….

To this day, I am still struck dumb.

The words are there, but won’t come.

The sight was beyond comprehension

I no longer had to lay a declension.

I pivoted and ran away.

And still to this very day.

I can’t enter an airport commode

Even if my nether did explode.

I curl into a fetal position

And accept my painful condition

Or I camp in the airplane restroom

As I feel the plane go zoom, zoom.

The rumbling of the engine’s roar

Gently nudges my bowls to explore.

Soon over the Great Divide

My waste is allowed to glide.

.

.

#041325 #2025 #poem #humor #davidebooker #photonotmine #restrooms #sunday #april #pottyhumor

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Filed under 2025, humor, photo, poem, poet, poetry, poetry by author, Poetry by David E. Booker

Monday morning writing joke: “The Fog is Afoot”

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

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Filed under 2023, Monday morning writing humor, Monday morning writing joke, Old North Knoxville, photo, Photo by author, photo by David E. Booker, poem, poetry, poetry by author, Poetry by David E. Booker

“One of these days”

One of these days

Oh tree, my tree,

Please hide me.

I want to stay

Away today.

I don’t want work

Nor stupid jerks

To come my way.

I want to be

By my little tree

And fill my my days

With poetry.

Oh tree, little tree

Stand by me.

Please, please

Hide me.

.

.

#011723 #tree #work #jerk #hide #days #please #poetry #rhyming #january #tuesday #davidebooker

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Filed under 2023, photo, poem, poetry, poetry by author, Poetry by David E. Booker

“Oh, Monday”

Oh, Monday

Oh, Monday, you vex me. /

A sour text, you text me. /

You proclaim elation, /

Lying on a bed of consternation. /

You say, Arise! Make the wheels of capitalism spin /

As though my last ounce of weekend indolence a sin. /

Oh, Monday, I wish I could love you, /

Or at least, like a dove, fly above you. /

But the best I can do is grin /

And say, Let the hell begin again. /

Each day will have its number. /

Each day will have its blunder. /

But Monday is the gatekeeper /

Of all that will befall or be reaped here. /

I wish you all pleasant circumstances, /

Moments filled with life’s entrances. /

But remember, Monday is always near, /

Never far and always clear. /

Up ahead is your Twilight Zone, /

Childhood changed and then left alone. /

And all the monsters on Maple Street, /

Need a Monday to make them complete. /

Fear this monster, or if you dare, /

Extend a hard and show some care. /

Maybe Monday is lonely, too, /

And could use a friend just like you.

.

.

#monday #vex #monster #newweek #twilightzone #cat #poem #poetry #rhyming #angst #anxiety #photo #davidebooker #oldnorthknoxville #talltalestogo #july #monday #071822 #2022

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Filed under 2022, Old North Knoxville, photo, photo by David E. Booker, poem, poetry, Poetry by David E. Booker

Photo finish Friday (photo and poem): “The Big Bang”

photo of gun deaths in US versus other developed nations.

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.

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Filed under 2019, Photo Finish Friday, poetry by author

Writing tip Wednesday: “Flush with success”

A simple writing tip to start the New Year. /
I will say it once, so gather round here. /
Whatever you may do about beginnings and ends /
When sitting on the throne do not hours spend. /
Your poem you will not complete before other deeds are done. /
And your legs and your feet will be the slumbering ones. /
Your audience, too, may have abandoned you. /
They may find what you have done not the best you can doo-doo.

Simple tip to start out the New Year. Do not write a completed poem while sitting on the commode. Before you’re finished, your legs — if not your audience — will be numb and asleep.

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Filed under 2019, Writing Tip Wednesday, writing tips

O’ this Problematic

O’ this problematic /

of all that is quite antic /

stands in ways dramatic /

at the lover’s front door. /

 

But it would be most ecstatic /

and even a touch fantastic /

to touch your life elastic /

once upon a time once more. /

 

Though time be a bit erratic /

and full of senseless static /

like a radio set to bombastic /

’tis you my heart adores. /

 

And though life is all to plastic /

with desires trifling spastic /

my mind trips the light romantic /

in wishing for amour. /

 

So, redact moments miasmic /

and reach for ones orgasmic /

and travel beyond the didactic /

until we reach each other’s door. /

 

–David E. Booker

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Filed under 2017, poetry by author

Random Acts of Poetry: “O’ Motivation”

O’ Motivation, /

You lost gyration /

Of agitation /

And sometimes vituperation, /

Why can’t I overcome /

This constipation, /

This consternation /

And subjugation of mental triangulation /

That I feel /

Keeping me from my goals? /

O’ this usurpation /

Of my concentration /

Is no vacation /

But abdication /

Surreal. /

Must I face with total resignation /

The certain and declining titration /

Of the limpid constellation /

That is my soul?

 

–David E. Booker

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Filed under 2017, poetry by author, Random acts of poetry

Photo finish Friday: “Arrival”

First snow

First snow

First snow came to visit today. /
Did you come from far away? /
Drifting softly from gray clouds, /
Landing where the cold allowed. /
You came to rest upon my glider. /
Was that your plan, your desire? /
How long do you think you will stay? /
Can I touch you, use you like clay? /
Mold a snowball or a snowman, /
I’m not sure yet what is my plan. /
Will more snow be coming soon? /
Falling by the light of the moon. /
Drifting down and all around, /
Landing without making a sound. /
Yes, first snow came today, /
But I know you will not stay. /
The sun too soon will replace the moon /
And sweep you away like a big, yellow broom.

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Filed under 2017, photo by David E. Booker, Photo Finish Friday, poetry by author

Photo finish Friday: “Chicken”

A special delicacy, if you can stomach it.

A special delicacy, if you can stomach it.

Chicken

by David E. Booker

Boneless Skinless Children’s Thighs.
Picked up a pack and to my surprise
The taste just hit me right between the eyes:
chicken.

Didn’t matter how I had them made:
Sautéed, fried, or in a marinade.
One small taste did all to persuade:
chicken.

I even tried eleven herbs and spices.
Mixed in rice, lettuce, and tomato slices.
It did not matter what culinary devices:
chicken.

I consulted a cannibal from a foreign land.
Who said such boneless thighs would not stand.
Children were not on his diet plan:
chicken.

Boneless Skinless Children’s Thighs.
I saw the ad right before my own eyes.
I handed the neighbors’ kids over with no good-byes:
chicken.

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Filed under 2016, Photo Finish Friday, poetry by author