Tag Archives: rhyming

January 15, 2016 · 7:15 am

Photo Finish Friday: “Air Apparent”

A piece of the sky.

A piece of the sky.

The blue fedora

Try as he might;
try as he will
it became apparent
there was nothing for him still.
He worked to the bone
and then he worked beyond.
When one day somebody asked
he was already gone.
Air apparent to a world
that had passed him by.
With his blue fedora
he took off for the sky.
Maybe some day he’ll make it
up there to one of the stars.
Some say that’s far enough;
others say it’s much too far.
Maybe some day you’ll see him
chasing dreams or chasing a cat
the air apparent man
and his blue fedora hat.

–David E. Booker

The blue fedora man and the world he left behind.

The blue fedora man and the world he left behind.

In honor of National Hat Day.

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June 19, 2015 · 7:19 am

Photo finish Friday: “Flower plea”

"Oh, please, don't pick me."

“Oh, please, don’t pick me.”

Flower plea

Oh, please, oh, please, don’t pick me.
There’s only a short life within me.
Leave me so others can see me.
Let me be so I can be me.

Come by as often as you like,
Be it in a car, on foot, or a trike.
I’ll be here for all to delight.
To pick me would leave only a blight.

I’m here for only a short while.
Let my bloom help others to smile.
Do not give in to temptation or denial
And leave nothing but a joy defiled.

Oh, please, oh, please, don’t pick me.
There’s only a short life within me.
Leave me so others can see me.
Let me be so I can be me.

–photo and poem by David E. Booker

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June 5, 2015 · 7:05 am

Photo finish Friday: “See your point”

The eyes have it.

The eyes have it.



New eyes

Oh, doc, give me new eyes
You know, like those of spies.
Ones I can see into anywhere
Even clean through your underwear.
Eyes that they used to advertise:
“For a dollar you’ll never be surprised.”
They were in all the comic books
Before comic books got their “adult look.”

Oh, doc, I want some new eyes.
In case you didn’t yet surmise
I seem to be bumping into things
And there’s no joy in what that brings.
The other day I bumped into a man
Who threatened to send me to a faraway land.
It is a place I’d prefer not to go
’cause if it freezes over nobody will know.

Oh, doc, can’t you see the mess I’m in?
All the beauty I’m missing, it’s a sin.
Pretty ladies keep passing me by.
They drop money in my cup and then sigh.
Some say they used to know me before
When their beauty I’d spot and adore.
They wonder if my eyes were put out
By a jealous lover’s punch round about.

Oh, doc, what else can I say
That will enlighten you about the way
That my life has gotten very small
Because I can see no one nor nothing at all.
I promise to keep my new glasses clean
And turn away should I see something obscene.
But I’m a lawyer so I hope you understand
“Obscene” depends on the law of the land
And like some crazy, quixotic Spaniards,
We of the law are still groping for a good standard.

–poem by David E. Booker

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May 29, 2015 · 7:29 am

Photo finish Friday: “Rusted truck”

The world as it might be.

The world as it might be.

Rusted truck

The day the world went mad.
The day we ran out of oil.
It was day just like this one,
A day full of madness and toil.

First there were high prices
Then rationing of the fuel.
The people decried that government
Was making them feel like a fool.

The army tried to quell the unrest
But it was no match for the madness.
Still the pain it inflicted
Spawned much hatred and sadness.

Then a great leader proclaimed:
“I can fix this issue.”
But all he had was graft and lies:
A house of cards and tissues.

Civilization ceased having meaning
Truth and justice went down the drain.
Militia’s came out, guns about
And that’s when the world went insane.

And to this day, no one can say
Who committed the bigger sin –
Those who started the dying now
Or those who failed back when.

Back when they had the chance to save
Some for the next generations,
They used it all up instead
As if it were their only libation.

I write this by dying fire light,
Scribbling on old yellow paper.
Some day you may still read it
Or it may have crumbled into vapor.

–photo and poem by David E. Booker

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May 22, 2015 · 5:18 pm

Photo finish Friday: “In a pickle”

The odd-shaped pickle.

The odd-shaped pickle.

I’m in a bit of a pickle.
I don’t know what to say
About this green sweet midget
I found just the other day.
Some say it looks like a mitten;
Others, a cactus gone awry.
I say it looks like a device
I’ve heard some give a try.
There is a pick up line
About nickel to tickle a pickle.
I say the shape of this one
Might just be the pickle tickle
As the holiday approaches
And Summer flows into the air
I want to solve this issue
So I can enter without a care.
If you have any idea
Of what this shape is about
Then please let me know
So I will no longer have any doubt.

A Vlasic classic?

A Vlasic classic?

–Photos and poem by David E. Booker

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May 2, 2015 · 10:24 pm

An unfortunate juxtaposition

The headline meaning is clear, or is it?

The headline meaning is clear, or is it?

An unfortunate juxtaposition

It was an unfortunate juxtaposition
An editorially poor rendition
And a layout contradiction
Of the work being done that day.

The ladies were up in the air
Arms and legs wide without a care
And the photographer “froze” them there:
A fine photo some might say.

But a headline was then put in place
Above their wide-open pose embrace
Each with a smile upon her face
And things came out another way.

The headline read: “Let’s go, Beavers”
And for those who are “mis-perceivers”
The headline was an overachiever
Of the double entendre sort of sway.

Some members of the fourth estate
To this day cannot contemplate
How such a printing came to state
Something that put such a pun in play.

So let this be today’s object lesson
About laying out a front-page section
And how others can have a perception
Where you place things a certain way.

–poem by David E. Booker

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May 1, 2015 · 10:52 pm

Photo finish Friday: “Wedding dress”

An unlucky dress?

An unlucky dress?

Wedding dress

Wedding dress, wedding dress beside the road
In a plastic bag, story untold.
Was it for a marriage gone terribly bad?
Or was the bride free and very glad?
Was it tossed out in spite and anger?
Discarded maybe after he strangled her?
Was she elated to see him go
And she tossed it out just for show?
The button on the bag said it was “EASY”
Was it really or was it simply sleazy?
The dress in question raises questions galore
Some answers we know, for others we want more.

Abandoned in a bag with a red button on the side.

Abandoned in a bag with a red button on the side.

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April 25, 2015 · 4:56 pm

Random Acts of Poetry: “A little rendezvous”

I fly through the air with the greatest of ease.
If my engine cuts out, I have no trapeze.
Since I have no trapeze, there is no net.
If my engine cuts out, I may not live to regret.
Keep an eye on the sky, watch for me to come by
If my engine cuts out, wave and give me a sigh.
That mountain ahead may be my new home.
Across its ragged face, my body may roam.
If the pilot is sane, I may stay in the air.
If my pilot is nuts, then what do I care?
Birds sucked in the engine? I’ll have a bad day
But then, come to think of it, so will they.
I fly through the air with greatest of ease.
When this damn thing comes down, avoid the trees.
May the landing be soft, the pilot’s touch light
For I’m holding your arm and I’m holding on tight.
A bump as we land could cause an incident:
You could lose your arm and my bowels would be spent.
I fly through the air with the greatest of ease
If the engine cuts out, some regrets there will be.

–by David E. Booker

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April 25, 2015 · 12:41 pm

Be gentle upon him

Be gentle upon him, whatever you do
For killing him outright, could leave you in a stew.
Then what will you do for the rest of the cruise?
Hide the body aboard and leave misleading clues?
Will you tell his friends, “Wait, he’s over there.”
Or strolling down the promenade without a care.
You’ll have to make up stories of where he might be
Which may keep you awake to a quarter past three.
And as you tell these stories of his life aboard the boat
Will you see his body out the window afloat?
Will he be smiling at you, his arm high in the air
waving you to join him, to promenade without a care?
And then oh then tell me what will you do
When he gives you the evil eye and thinks you’re a cutie too?

by David E. Booker

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April 7, 2015 · 5:40 pm

An Act of God, you say

An Act of God

It was an Act of God, we said
that killed the children and made them dead.
There was no other answer so
for why the children had to go.
The triggers were pulled, the bullets fast
and it was God when made them past.
Oh why, oh why would God do so?
But “An Act of God” is all we know.
We now put guns in our parks
in case of criminals there in the dark
acting out God’s will, you know
culling the herd of those too slow
to pull a gun and aim it fast
to squeeze the trigger and make it blast
the muzzle to thunder with God’s own voice.
After all, you know, we have no choice.
“It’s An Act of God,” we will say
when the police take us away
and we’ll utter that magical chant
and our actions we won’t recant
when the body’s pulled into the light
of the child who’d hidden in fright
thinking we were the ones to fear
and how that now seems so queer
that we would be the ones to fear.
Yes, we would be the ones to fear.

Written by David E. Booker

Inspired by this political insanity: http://nashvillepublicradio.org/post/top-republicans-say-theyll-oppose-proposal-let-guns-tennessee-capitol

which is part of this: http://aattp.org/tennessee-state-rep-proclaims-child-shootings-an-act-of-god-like-bicycle-accidents/

Background information: http://www.knoxnews.com/news/state/haslam-expresses-major-concerns-about-gunsinparks-bill_96846738

and http://www.knoxnews.com/news/state/tennessee-mulls-removing-control-over-guns-in-parks

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