Category Archives: Poems

Mirror Burns

I created a monster this weekend.

I call it “Ms. Evil Head.”

It’s like a mirror, but I gaze in it

And see your face instead.

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Never Bring Home A Genie

I know a gal who’s a genie

Who I found in a bottle of wine.

She grants my wishes now and again,

But she’s certainly no friend of mine.

Sometimes when she grants me my wishes

I still have an urge just to throttle her

‘Cause the wishes remain ’til she clogs up my drain,

Then they vanish when I try to bottle her.

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Maybe I Should Toast It?

I was mad at my TV,

So I shot it.

My toaster was asking for it,

So it got it.

I got a not-so-smoothie,

So my blender went kablemma!

Now my gun is malfunctioning,

And I face a dilemma.

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It Works For Both Parties

A hangdog and a long-faced horse

Walked into a bar.

A few hours later they both walked home

‘Cause they didn’t own a car.

They didn’t much enjoy themselves

Nor change their sorry fate.

But it was fun compared to

Watching the GOP debate.

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My Motto, Age 12 Months

Sob, sob, sob

Cry, cry, cry.

Woe is me!

Oh my, oh my.

Waah, waah, waah.

Whee, whee, whee.

Everybody

Look at me!

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And The Award For Best Pet Goes To…

I’ve had a lot of pets.

Okay, not really… but a few

And I tell you with conviction

That the best of them is you.

When I read my poems to goldfish,

Guppies, betas, or trout

They get neither the humor

Nor what the poem’s about.

When I read my rhymes to kitties

They bite me on the thumb.

When I read my verse to doggies…

Well, alas, they’re cute but dumb.

When I read poems to my girlfriends,

Oh sure, they laugh and smile

And beg me to be their only love,

But that’s just not my style.

But you stay with me, readers.

You are my best friend and my steed.

I’m a lucky guy to have you,

And you don’t cost much to feed.

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I can’t hear you… Just some sexy music

They say iPhones have bad signal strength.

I think that’s a misconception,

Because I use a saxaphone.

Now that has bad reception!

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What Is A Sunday?

if Monday was productive

It would be Tuesday instead.

If Tuesday were called “Hump day”

Maybe we’d want to get out of bed.
If the end was in sight on Wednesday

We would enjoy it more.

If after Thursday was a weekend

It would not be such a snore.
Saturday’s a Friday

During which we needn’t work,

But Sunday is what Saturday

Would be if it were a jerk.
On Sunday we do nothing

Just like on Saturday,

Except our nothing is interrupted

By our freedom sneaking away.
We’re filled to our proverbial brim

With end-of-weekend anxiety.

That is what a Sunday is,

Or maybe that’s just me.

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But It’s Organic!

It had an extra leg, I think,

And several extra eyes.

I don’t know how it got into my drink.

Oh look at that… it flies!

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I’m Not Even Going To Apologize

Sometimes dogs are happy.

Sometimes dogs are sad.

You wanted a clever poem?

Well today, that’s just too bad.

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