I said “kinda farty,”
And mommy got mad.
That’s what her dinner tasted like.
Now I live alone with Dad.
I said “kinda farty,”
And mommy got mad.
That’s what her dinner tasted like.
Now I live alone with Dad.
Filed under Poems
There was a skunk named Dink
Who didn’t stink,
Which, at least for Dink, stank.
He played at skunk school
But smelled really cool
And thus his social standing sank.
They flunked the poor skunk
And he packed up his trunk.
He greatly disliked the school’s thinking,
But he too understood
Skunks can’t be what they should
If said skunks stunk like Dink did at stinking.
Filed under Poems
Hello dear readers!
I’m here to announce
A new opportunity
On which you may pounce:
My latest collection
Of poetical stuff
Is now featured on Amazon
As purchasable fluff.
The link is below
If you care to explore.
If you buy it I may
Be able to go to the store
And put food on the table
(Or just eat food in bed).
You know what to do.
Thanks to all! Thus, I’m fled.
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
Sitting on a bus
Waiting to go home.
I don’t feel creative at all.
The driver is gone.
If this moment were art
It’d be the plain red stripe on a hotel wall.
Dogs are pretty.
Pretties are not always dogs.
If you thought you’d be happy
With this poem’s conclusion
Reread the first two lines.
I was the star of my football team
Through high school and beyond.
I was six-foot four, 400 pounds…
When I walked I shook the floor.
When I got to college
I tried out for the offensive line
But apparently “make me a sandwich”
Had been used, and I was declined.
I dieted, I exercised,
I worked both day and night.
I dropped to a mere 250 pounds
And practiced catching right.
I came back my sophomore year
And became the team’s tight end.
I got a jersey and a girlfriend.
I thought my life was on the mend.
But, through football player logic,
I thought some heads needed a dent.
The police disagreed with me
So off to jail I went.
Now four years later I return,
No longer a brawler or deceiver.
You may go to jail a tight end
But you return a wide receiver.
Filed under Poems
Sleepwalking,
Night stalking…
Insomnia is killing me.
Dead of night,
I feel no fright.
Just a few more hours ’til I’m free.
With empty hearts
And bulging carts
They leave my shelves so very bare.
Their hands are deep
In all that’s cheap.
At these poor beasts I stare.
All these hours
Living in a haze
Just a few more days
On the night shift.
I waste my life
Repeating strife,
Putting boxes back on the shelves.
My peers and I
Just want to cry,
Go home and be all by ourselves.
I ain’t got paid,
But I’ve quit and stayed.
Oh! How that paycheck calls…
I say I’ll walk,
But it’s all talk.
I haven’t got the balls.
All these hours
Hoping its a phase.
Counting down the days
On the night shift.
Then in an instant
I hear the TV:
“Todays winning numbers are
“7, 6, 5, 4, 3.”
Thirty-eight million dollars
Are mine! All mine! Then…
My boss yells “you’re fired
“If you doze off again.”
All these hours
And finally an excuse…
No need for such abuse…
Time to take another snooze…
On the night shift.
A feminist told me
“All men are pigs!”
And I almost took some offense.
Then another told me
“Men and women are equal.”
Now the first woman’s making more sense.
Filed under Poems
Thirty-six hours in the hospital
And $17,000 dollars later
I regret my Halloween in Florida
And bobbing for that gator…
Filed under Poems
If I get a pet dragon
(For business or for kicks)
I’ll hide it in my dungeon
And prob’ly call it Trix.
I’ll feed it little children
To give it a dragon’s fix,
But mostly for the privilege of saying
“Silly rabbit, kids are for Trix!”
Filed under Poems