I have a fountain on my porch.
It’s one I never bought.
I have a fountain in my truck
That, on the road, I caught.
I’ve got twelve fountains all in all.
New ones turn up now and then.
I keep them safe in my back yard,
Within my fountain pen.
Tag Archives: Humor
A Day At The Beach
A dog and his man
Hopped into a van
And drove down to the ocean.
The dog jumped in the surf
And rolled in the turf
While the man put on suntan lotion.
The man made sand castles,
The dog ate some tassles.
They both watched a volleyball game.
The dog chased rubber balls
And peed on brick walls,
And the man covertly did the same.
The man and his doggy
Wet, dirty, and soggy,
Hopped back in their automobile.
And they drove back home,
Covered in sand and loam,
With the dog in control of the wheel.
Filed under Poems
The 100-Year Love
I forgot your birthday,
Our anniversary,
And the day we’d planned
To spend, just you and me.
But I’m a very lucky man
To be in love with you,
I guess because, in hindsight,
You forgot them too.
Filed under Poems
The Bad Day Begins
I took a fifteen minute shower
To get all clean and bright,
But when I stepped in it
The water wasn’t right.
At first it was too hot to stand,
So I bumped it down a little.
It turned out either hot or cold,
But nowhere in the middle.
I got out and toweled off
And went to check the heater.
It may have been fine. I don’t know.
I couldn’t read the meter.
So I called up a plumber
To come down that afternoon.
He said that he would call me back.
I hope he shows up soon.
And so I had a sponge bath
That took upwards of an hour
Cause I waited for the sponge to cool
From the overheated shower.
Then I hopped into my car
Stuck in my key and turned,
When a friendly orange dash light
Said my gas had all been burned.
I sweated thirty miles
On my tandem bike, alone.
I’d have called you when I left
But I forgot my phone.
And here I am, alive and well,
Although I’m somewhat harried.
Any minute now my darling one
Will come, and we’ll get married.
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
Pre-Presidential Career Advice
Math has strength in numbers,
Computer science has Intel.
Musicians can pull the strings,
And drama can as well.
But the nerdy occupation
That wins while hardly trying
Are the mattress beta-testers,
‘Cause, oh man, they’re good at lying.
Filed under Poems
Stay Tuned
It would be great to write a poem
About someone named “Heigl.”
What other name can be pronounced
To rhyme with Beagle and Bagel?
But all the Heigls that I know
Do not like dogs or bread,
So I’ll settle for “Smythe,” and rhyme
With Myth and Lithe instead.
Filed under Poems
Pottery
Pottery is a hobby
And an art form, in a way.
To do it, you spin a wheel
And use lots and lots of clay.
You stick the pot-in-progress
In a special sort of stove,
And you paint it different colors
‘Cause the default’s sort of mauve.
Once your pot is finished
You can fill it up with stuff
Like pebbles, beads, or flowers
Or all sorts of girly stuff.
Then you stick it where you’ll look at it
And feel the nostalgia
Of the day you took to potter
Instead of studying hydromalgia.
Filed under Poems
Happy Green Booze Day!
Once a year we celebrate
Some unruly Irish saint
With our Friday evening fun,
Although it’s Tuesday, and only 1:00.
If you’re a kid not wearing green
It’s better that you not be seen,
For this day’s for the violent sort.
Pinching’s an encouraged sport!
And tomorrow, on goes the fun
As we avoid noise and the bright sun.
So read this poem tomorrow at noon,
And you’ll know why you fell asleep in the bathroom.
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
What’s for Breakfast?
Today is the Ides of March,
When Caeser was made invalid.
We celebrate with leftover pie,
Orange Julius, and Caeser salad.
Filed under Poems
Good Riddance
Let the record show
I really didn’t know
That an iceberg could do damage
Like that iceberg did.
Don’t think I didn’t care
That a floating bit was there,
Begging for some rammage
With nine-tenths of its body hid.
Let the record indicate
That good-old-me, the captain’s mate,
Gave warning to the skipper,
But he did merely scoff.
Then the captain broke the ship
And so he went out for a dip.
He was a lousy tipper,
So in the end, we’re better off.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 