People say I have energy, but
You should see me when I’m in a rut!
My only cathartic
Bet you’ve already guessed, it is—-what?
A cup of good strong black caffeine
And I’m instantly UP, well I mean
I’m an energy ball
I can run down the hall
I’ve the get up and go of a teen!
Oh, I forgot to reveal: I’m no chicken!
It’s amazing I’m lively and kickin’!
With coffee I’m twenty
(Decaf: dolce far niente*)
Without coffee I’d be panic stricken!
*Dolce far niente: pleasant idlenesss
A pair of most feminine eels
Were dying to try out high heels
But their teeters and totters
Made their dad sigh, “Oh, daughters,
Who would think I could raise
A lovely old fashioned word: fetching
Its meaning allows for such stretching!
As in "to fetch and carry"
Or: you're so fetching, let's marry!"
But (if you're angry) you just might be kvetching!
I write prose, too and am in a memoir-writing group that turns out 500 words every week. We get “prompts.” Most of what I write there wouldn't work for a verse website, so here's one, in verse, that I wrote for the prompt, "What makes you feel at home?"
FEELING AT HOME
I’m sure 500 words won’t be needed!
As soon as I’m comf’torbly seated
And sit down to compute
Well, the words fairly shoot
From my fingers until I’ve completed.
Does this actually make any sense?
I should time from the time I commence!
I BET fifteen minutes
From when I get in, it’s
A pome of some real consequence!
That sounds quite immodest, I know
But truth to tell, it’s probably so;
I feel so much at home
When I’m writing a pome!
I start up and the words seem to flow!
I’ll tweak it, of course, and the rhyme
Will undoubtedly change over time
And caffeine is a must
Or I might just go bust
But the bald truth you want is that I’m
Just a natural limerick poet
And this here is the way that I show it.
The time this took? Guess!
Fifteen minutes? Far less!
Maybe 5? Maybe l0? I don’t know it!
It’s odd, though, that while I can write
Through a morning or evening or night
During 50 years wedded
I just never said it
As today I most certainly might.
Neither husband nor even one kid
Would have guessed—except one time I did
Write a funny long rhyme
For his artwork that I’m
Pretty proud of—which I never hid.
He made this weird, tactile steel mound
That you had to keep turning around;
The poetic odd link
Was inscribed in black ink
And was meant to confuse and compound.
Which it did!
But if you were the first to have read it
And successfully said, “Oh, I get it!”
It was yours then to keep
As you’d sown, then you reap!
And the challenge was tough but you’d met it!
In closing, I much need to thank
The helper on which I most bank:
My rhyme dictionary
Is my au-xil-iary
Without it I’d’ve long ago sank!
Oh, and once again, thanks to caffeine!
Without it I’d be silent—and mean!
And thanks to the friends
Who supply odds and ends
(You should eavesdrop at some breakfast scene!)
SPLIT PANTS LIMERICK
The other day, in aerobic dance
I accidentally split my pants
They were old, they were thrift
Very cheap—like a gift—
Still—a most unwelcome new circumstance!
You’re prob’ly too young to recall
World War 2 (well now, aren’t we all?)
But they had a wise saying
That I keep “replaying”
And I’ll share it now, once and for all:
“Use it up, wear it out
Make it do—-do without”
That was the war’s wide assumption—
Nowadays it’s — conspicuous consumption!
So…I use it up, wear it out
Make it do, or do without
Regardless of peoples’ assumption!
But I have to admit, don’tcha see,
These split pants showed the world just a knee!
If it had been my keister
I might have been triste-er
So be sure to congratulate me!
I always wrote “pomes” as a kid—-
It’s just about all that I did!
I filled empty times
With limericks and rhymes
Math? Geography? Heaven forbid!
And now that I’m grown and degreed, umm…
I see no evidence that kids need’em
But what really is worse is
When I write all these verses
I find grownups who can’t even read’em!
“There was a young lady from——-“ get it?
Just read it aloud; once you’ve said it,
The next lines? Piece of cake!
You can’t make a mistake——
Well,hallelujah, you’ve read it!
WE ARE "THEM"; "THEY" ARE US
Look around that restaurant EVERYONE’s an immigrant! Diners, servers, busboys, cooks Once all garnered dirty looks! If not themselves, their folks for sure From people who thought themselves “pure”! I dare you—‘cause I’m sure you can’t Find one soul NOT an immigrant!***
*** Except, of course, the Native American
Big news! I have managed to pick up
A cure for the much-dreaded hiccup:
You’ll need a friend near you
To talk—when you hear, you
Will find no more hiccup will kick up!
It depends on the art of surprise
So let’s keep it between us, you guys—-
Ask a question or two
That comes out of the blue——-
Like, “Do you put ketchup on fries?”
Better yet: “What’s your uncle’s last name”?
(Or….your aunt’s, or….your grandma’s—this game
Sends a bolt from the blue
That so much startles you
That your hiccups go back whence they came!
“April is the cruelest month”
So T.S. Eliot said—-
He didn’t add (or did he?)
Which other month instead
Was better. No, we need it!
Its downpours bring the blooms
That let us love our hallways
(When we can leave our rooms!)
Yes, I think we need the downpours
And of course they’re needed too—-
With no rain (and no April)
What would umbrellas do?
Odd word, don’t you think, is meander?
Look closer—-yeah, take a good gander!
Instead of an object
It should start with a subject
Or perpetrate grammatical slander!
So “meander” should thus be “I-ander”
If we, to the literate, pander
“Me” don’t go to the show
We don’t say, “Yes, me know”
In all frank and confessional candor.
Hmmmm, that makes we wonder anew….
And perhaps it has crossed your mind too
If you think of a word
That’s grammatically absurd…..
I’d love to hear about it from you!
Hi! Do you know the words “shmoose” and/or
Well, in this case they’re both introducing
A gal who writes rhymes
And spends most of her times
When she isn’t just shmoosing—producing!
The Everest of my ambition
Never got any higher than wishin’
To do nothing at all
But let the chips fall
And spend every day goin’ fishin’!
One more rhyme and this concerns Trump, he--
(The Everest of the wee hump) he--
May have nailed it that once
But his myriad stunts
Prophesy (fingers crossed!) Humpty Dumpty!
I had a great friend, Johnny Est
Who do always do everything best
And whenever Est
Was put to the test
He left in the dust all the rest!
Since I cannot recall the details
I’ll use rhyme where my memory fails!
I know it was Texas
Where the car gods would hex us
And of course I was driving—-(she wails!)
Rick would never have crashed in a wall——
But he was asleep thru it all!
The car on my right
Came so close and so tight
I just had to swerve left—my downfall!
I intended to move just an inch
Or maybe a couple—a cinch!
‘Cause what I went and got
Was a crunch and an eye-closing flinch!
So now our poor car wouldn’t move!
And if YOU knew my Richard, well, you’ve
The tale’s ugly rest
Except—it is going to improve!
‘Cause—OMG! —We were near Dallas!
And we’ve relatives there , Joe and Alice
That’s not their real names
But it rhymes, so no shames!
And their business? They ran a scrap palace!
Yes, I promise that that part is true!
It was big and successful and new!
And our cousins could boast
They recycled the most
At the time it was done by so few!
And of course all the cops knew them too
Somehow cops and scrap businesses do
Seem to know one another
It’s like, “Hiya, brother!
And what can we do to help you”
Course in those days no one had a cell
But the cops called and heard them both yell
“We’ll come and get you
Sit tight—cops will let you
” And ya know how it ended? Real well!
They sent some big tow truck or other
Our cousins and someone or other
(I don’t know if that’s true
But it rhymes and so you
Can imagine they came with their mother!)
(Which they did not!)
For a couple of days we stayed there
And they fixed us with nary a care!
We got back in the steel
(I was NOT at the wheel!)
And we kept on the road, but to where?
I just cannot remember the rest!
I’m so sorry, but maybe that’s best
The ghost of my Rick
Must be shaking a stick
At the way this whole story is messed!
And I realized I haven’t used “brakes”!
Which is really not awfully great shakes
‘Cause you got the whole gist
That a turn of my wrist
Led to major —yes, major!—mistakes.
In the end, tho, we had a great time
Though I must say that writing this rhyme
Is the hardest I’ve done
But it sorta was fun!
Like a kid being covered with slime!
And the fact that the facts aren’t all true
Is that really bothering you?
I just can recall
Almost nothing at all!
Of the rest of the trip! Oh, boo-hoo!
This next one was written on a lovely day—just hours before all hell broke loose in Chicago
WERE YOU ONE?
Were you one?
Who took advantage of Saturday’s sun?
And decided to go out for fun?
Were you one?
Were you two?
A couple who took a walk, too
I passed you—all masked—but just knew
That was you!
Were you three?
In the park before dark on a spree
With maybe a little one—whee!
Were you three?
Well,let’s hope that we get to be more—
’Til at last there’s no need to count, or
Stay away from our beautiful shore
Sarah Palin—remember? The shock!
“From my place I see Vladivostok!”
The equivalent, see?
of Trump saying: “Virus? A crock!”
Mr. Spellcheck, when you are detecting
Take care which weird words you’re correcting!
(Or maybe you’re “Miz”
Sure, you probably is—)
But those spellings are mine: for effecting!
“DENY MENU MONEY MO”—
Can you guess what that SHOULD read? I'll show!
Word one should start “e”
Then another “e”, see?
We’ve another few stanzas to go!
We can’t skip verse two, which, like one,
Shows that spellcheck’s still having its fun!
How they came up with “menu”
Let me know if and when you
Have figured it out just for fun!
The third would have sounded like:”iney”—
(No, not “inky”, s-c, kiss my heinie!
That isn’t polite, kids
But here it sounds right, kids—
Their change was a hoot, tho quite tiny!
And finally, here’s good ol’ “mo”!
Not a lotta new words they could show!
If and when you decode
Everything that I showed—
Please, anyone, please let me know!
DENY MANY MINTY MOB
(with thanks to Minna Taylor)
Eeny meeny miney mo—
Works fine, as these slang phrases go…..
But Minna’s spell check
Knocked the words all to heck
And through me she is letting you know
Hers emerged as a real phrase!
“Deny many minty mob”—and these days,
A Madigan guy
Says “Here’s mud in your eye”
And sends them along on their ways!!!!!
TEENY WEENY MONEY MOM
(with thanks to a friend)
Spellcheck’s just so crazily varied!
We thrusted, and it has just parried
Eeny meeny miney mo
Is butchered every time, you know
if a birth, we would say it miscarried!
Which is specially useful for this
‘Cause “Mom’s” in a state of real bliss!
She’s little, we see
But is rich! Ah, oui oui
Let us end this whole verse with a kiss!