There once was a man from Spokane /
who dated a woman named Diane. /
What they did they all say /
would take your breath away /
and still to this day has been banned.
Tag Archives: rhymning poetry
Sunday Limerick: “Banned in Spokane”
Filed under poetry by author
Photo finish Friday: “The Preacher and the Creature”
The preacher and the creature: a hirsute tale
The preacher and the creature
were creeping around the wilds.
The preacher and the creature
were a contrast in styles.
The preacher had a squint;
the creature had a smirk.
The preacher gave out hints;
the creature walked herkyjerk.
They roamed the wilds together,
though rarely arm in arm
for the creature’s hide of leather
could do the preacher harm.
Yet one day he tried a saddle
upon the creature’s back
and with a little paddle
he gave a gentle whack.
Now, let this be a tale of care
for all who go astray:
the preacher had a full head of hair
until that fateful day.
That little whack, it came back
with a much bigger response.
The creature went on the attack
and sent out a fiery launch.
And when the smoke had cleared
upon that faith filled day
the preacher had a beard,
but no hair to comb away.
///
photo by Chris Buice
poem by David E. Booker
Filed under Photo Finish Friday, poetry by author
Limerick: “Lear-ing”
Lear-ing
There once was a man named Lear /
who wrote in verse to make it clear /
that no matter what you say /
if you say it the right way /
even the sincere can come out with a leer.
[Editor’s note: This limerick is in honor of National Limerick Day, which was actually May 12th and Edward Lear, the 19th century English poet, author, illustrator known for popularizing the limerick form of poetry.]
Edward Lear, 1812 – 1888
Filed under poetry by author
Photo finish Friday: “Half of it”
Sometimes, a relationship just doesn’t hold together.
The man in the waders
by David E. Booker
The man in waders
met the woman in half.
When others saw them,
they thought they were daft.
They met at the creek,
down by the water’s edge.
It was a salvage operation
of the heart it is said.
She could not say
where her lower half went.
Like a little mermaid
she was half woman, half rent.
The relationship didn’t last.
Alas it is said,
the fact she had no bottom
went straight to his head.
Filed under Photo by author, Photo Finish Friday, poetry by author
Boxed in
by DAVID E. BOOKER
I will not put her in a box
I will not use one with a lock.
I will not bury her beneath the blocks
nor stuff her in the freezer with the lox.
I will not ship her far, far away.
I said I won’t, no, no not today.
But my patience is running thin
and should she try it, yet once again…
I will not be responsible for what I do.
My five-year-old could do it to you, too.
Return postage not included.
Filed under cartoon by author, poetry by author, Silly Saturday
Monday (morning) writing joke: “Stuck”
There once was writer of plays /
who could not get his character his way. /
“Oh, no,” they said. /
He shook his head in dread /
and he’s stuck in Act I to this day.
Filed under Monday morning writing joke
New Holiday Character: “Bow Man”
The Bow Man
By David E. Booker
You say you don’t like them,
Then you begin to shout.
You’d better be very careful
Or the Bow Man will clean you out.
He comes on Christmas Day
After you’ve unwrapped all your toys
To take all the ones back
With which you seem annoyed.
Complain about a doll:
“It’s not the color I like.”
He’ll take away all your toys:
Games, dolls, scooters, and bikes.
Beware what you dislike
For that’s just what he enjoys
He’ll snatch away your gifts
Even from good girls and boys.
Don’t like the new dress?
He’ll snatch it off your body.
He’ll take your jacket and your scarf
While sipping your hot toddy.
He’s worse than the Grinch,
Who took your stuff at night.
The Bow Man will do it today,
In the broadest of daylight.
He once snatched a mouse
Right out of an old cat’s paws.
The cat complained the mouse
Was not from Santa Claus.
The Bow Man’s big and fat,
And wears green ugly clothes.
If he ever comes to see you,
His smell will turn up your nose.
He’s dressed in ribbons and bows
But don’t let the festive look fool you.
If you complain about your toys,
He’ll keep Christmas from being cruel to you.
A grainy photo of the infamous Bow Man. Note the Smiley Face made from bows as a way to lull you into a false sense of security.
Silly Saturday: “Christmas Time”
Christmas Time
By David E. Booker
Christmas comes but once a year
As songs and calendar make clear;
And then the bills come blowing in,
Heralding a new year, amen.
So out into the cold I go,
Fighting wind and debt and snow
Bringing Christmas joy and cheer
’Til my bank account is clear.
Then the credit cards come out
And out and out and then about
The time I think I’ve spent enough
There is a present that I’ve muffed.
So back into the store I go
For my tale of substitute woe
Where the clerk tries to smile
And I feel I’m in Kafka’s Trial.
The guardians of tradition wait to ensure your every move is the right one.
O’ Christmas becomes a time surreal
When some dance and some kneel
And oftentimes my intentions digress
And I come out feeling less and less.
As the stories of Christmas past
Tell tales of deeds that truly last.
Try as I might, I come to the day
Watching the show now on display
And feel as the tree tops glisten
And children listen, that I am missing
A moment of my own to clasp,
Something sweet and ethereal to last.
For it’s those moments ill-defined,
When a smile is given un-timed,
When the heart is opened to the moment,
That the soul finds console-ment
That this season means more than here
And those people you wish to hold dear
Find their place and their own rhyme
In your heart, beating in a new time.
[Editor’s note: This poem was first published in a small publication in 2007.]
Filed under Christmas, Photo by author, poetry by author, Silly Saturday
Freeform Friday: “Bah … Festival”
Bah … Festival
[Poet’s note: My poetic response below is to the message in the link above.]
Happy festival of planets and stars
of magic men that travel from afar
of little people who slave all night
in the cold so someone else can take flight.
Happy festival of growing debt
of presents you don’t want or haven’t seen yet
of holiday cheer without smiles
of jammed parking lots and lines for miles.
Yes, Merry Christmas to you and yours,
attending parties that feel like chores.
Yes, Merry Christmas and presents, too,
and the tree that lights: red, green, and blue.
You say, “Merry Christmas is all I’ll hear,
and please don’t feel less of any good cheer.
Kwanzaa and Hanukkah, well they’re just fine.
You have yours and I’ll have mine.”
So in this season of brotherly love,
of peace, good will, and stuff from above,
when a big fat man dressed all in red
driving flying reindeer and a toy-laden sled
slides down your chimney in the middle of the night,
even if you don’t have any, though you just might,
coming at the moment when your dreams are strong
and hope has it greatest chance to belong,
I hope you have a Merry Christmas without dread
and don’t let Happy Holidays play with your head.
For if you do and you then let it stew
your heart will miss out of the headiest of brews.
Have a ho-ho-ho-whole lot of fun this Holiday Season.
Filed under Freeform Friday, Holidays, poetry by author
Sunday Silliness: limerick: “Ohio”
There once was a woman ill from Ohio
whose love life was in complete spiral.
She took to her bed,
pulled the pillows over her head:
her boyfriend had voted across the aisle.
Filed under poetry by author, political humor, Sunday silliness
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