Tag Archives: Happy

Heaven Is Real

This world of ours has beauty

Hidden where you’d least expect.

There’s a chance for redemption

In every life that ends up wrecked.

In every gray face on the corner,

In every drop the clouds can cry,

There’s a way for you to heal

If you only choose to try.

So when the sun stops shining

Take comfort in the shade.

The beauty in the pink of dawn

Is equal to when day fades.

Eagles think they’re falling

When they first learn how to fly.

Love is all around us,

Not just in some beholders eye.

The world has many faces.

Close your eyes, the faces stay.

Whatever you think of the world

It doesn’t change its way.

Regardless of what you may believe

The truth is always true.

If you don’t believe in Heaven,

Heaven still believes in you.

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Chicken Couplets (Guest Poem from S-BC”CAG”BPCTWMYB[P])

By Katy:
Chickens are so much maligned,

But if you look I think you’ll find

That if a chicken lays an egg or two,
That’s much more work than me or you. 
When you die it’s with a selfish craze,

But a chicken gives back with a ginger glaze!

And so to chickens you should be kind,
For they seem most helpful to my small mind. 
Thanks Katy!

Do you think chickens are great and deserve to be recognized positively via the medium of mediocre poetry? Enter the Semi-Bicentennial “Chickens Are Good” Bad Poetry Contest That Won’t Make You Bald (Probably)!

Get the details here:

https://www.google.com/amp/s/thedailytravesty.com/2017/02/25/announcing-the-semi-bicentennial-chickens-are-good-bad-poetry-contest-that-will-not-make-you-bald-probably/amp/

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It Pays To Be Uninformed

It’s hard to write a travesty

If, indeed, you are like me

And despite your hopes and dreams

Nothing hurts and no one screams.

It’s hard to find valid complaints

When no one bleeds or pukes or faints,

When songbirds sing and angels fly

And all the spiders up and die.

It’s hard to be a downer debbie

When light stuff’s light and hebby’s hebby.

The world is peaceful, lovely, flat…

Oh wait, it’s not?

I can write about that!

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Sensi-Ball

I want to see a sport

Where forty normal guys

Cooperate athletically

To share a worthy prize.

No one would hit each other.

No feelings would be hurt.

They’d go home with clean jerseys

And their hands devoid of dirt.

No penalties are needed

For good sportsmanship prevails

And from such competition

Comes a host of happy tales.

Such sports would be refreshing

And a lovely change of pace

But for now I’ll stick with boxing

‘Cause I love some hand-to-face!

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Being Mediocre

I may not be Annie Oakley

But you’ve never seen a fellow

Hit the broad side of a barn

Like I can do!

I may not be a doctor

But when a friend turns yellow

No one can say “there there”

Like I’ve learned to!

I’m not a jack of any trade.

Perhaps that’s why I’ve got it made.

I’m a wizard who can’t even cast a spell!

But that stuff is overrated,

Sloth underappreciated.

Yes, being mediocre’s pretty swell!

 

I haven’t learned a trade,

Nor the sciences or arts,

But I can sit around

Like no one’s business!

And when you see me doing

Nothing that requires smarts, you’ll ask

The fellow next to you

“Who on earth is this?”

I’m a man with no profession,

Absent when class is in session

Because I’m born unable to work well.

But that won’t dampen my mood

‘Cause my life’s still pretty good.

Yes, being mediocre’s pretty swell!

So if you’re not a Grant or Lincoln

There’s no need for you to feel

As though your greatest dreams

Will not come true!

Your dream of happy lounging’s

Achievable through clever scroungings

And if I can do it, surely

So can you!

I’m no poet but I rhyme!

You’ve a quarter, I’ve a dime!

I’ve no fear at all of being damned to Hell

‘Cause they’ll never let me in.

If you do nothing, you can’t sin.

Posthumous mediocrity is swell!

Yes being mediocre’s pretty swell!

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Breakups Are Hard

Oh my darling, oh my darling,

Oh my darling Clementine.

You are lost and gone forever.

On second thought, that’s just fine.

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Confessions of… Someone Who Isn’t Me *wink*

It seems when I awake

With the rooster’s joyful call

Then I approach the day

Knowing I can conquer all

But when I awake

With the sound of my own snoring

I can leave the conquering to you.

I like my life more boring.

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