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
(and other themes)
The old Brits were as good with their syllables
As we Yankees are now with our billables
But as any can see
When it comes down to me
I am best when I’m feasting on fillables.
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.”. One week the prompt was to write “What makes you feel at home”, and this is what I wrote:
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!
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