Red roses for passion.
White roses for peace.
Yellow for friendship
And renewing your lease.
Yet why I am here
Nobody knows,
For what is the meaning
Of a camouflage rose?
Tag Archives: Poetry
Outliers
Filed under Poems
Miscommunication, Baby
I cried all night,
I cried all day,
But still these parents
Won’t go away.
Filed under Poems
Missing You
Far and wide I looked for you,
O’er mountains and rivers and bogs.
I fought off a dragon and two rabid dogs
And the rest of your family too.
I questioned the oracle up on the ridge
And she asked, “Where did you see her last?”
And so I pondered the memories past
And went home to look in the fridge.
Filed under Poems
The Anarchist’s Haiku
Dark banana peel
Right beside the “wet floor” sign:
People watching spot.
I Am Chicken
I am chicken:
Hear me roar.
Feeding me
Is a daily chore.
Every fancy
Meat you see
Tastes exactly
Just like me.
I am chicken
With great legs.
I’m a prolific donor
Of my eggs.
Which came first
I cannot say,
But people ask me
Every day.
I am chicken,
But do not scoff:
I can outrun you
With my head cut off.
Call me cowardly
And you’ll have strife indeed.
You’ll awake to my call
And be paid with my feed.
Filed under Poems
Seriously, Why Not?
Dolphins are smart and playful,
But incapable of talking.
Why hasn’t someone hooked them up
To speak like Stephen Hawking?
Not even hollywood has thought
To contemplate that scenario
Instead the make “Sharknado 3.”
It must be they just don’t care-io.
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
Productivity
There are days when a lot gets done.
There are days which are tons of fun.
Then there are days that start with “Mon.”
Today was like the latter one.
Filed under Poems
Now Serving Number 1,347,362,897,363,076…
I think that when you die
You go up to the sky
And log in to the Heaven registry
Of those awaiting birth
Again onto the Earth.
It’s just another big bureaucracy.
You spend the days after your doom
In cloud-nine’s waiting room
With the patio salesman, Bill.
So if you have a heart attack
You’ll see why Christ has not come back,
And at this rate, he probably never will.
Filed under Poems
Variety
I went to a fancy restaurant
On the other side of Vermont.
The air outside was a silent mist,
While within was a wandering violinist.
The atmosphere was nice, for sure,
But the cliche was hard to endure.
So just once in every while
A wandering trombone would make me smile.
Filed under Poems
Linguistically Correct
I went to the movies
With a hefty bag
Of detritus, garbage, and junk
Because you told me
To take out the trash.
This was the date up which I thunk.
Filed under Poems
