Judging by response
Of yesterdays rhyming junk
You folks not fans of grammar.
This poem be good then, so me did thunk.
Us will judge by them responses
Whether stuff like this be fine.
And if you dont not dislike it
Please feel free to whine.
Tag Archives: Silly
Don’t Circum To Temptation
Circum is a prefix
Whose presence does effect
In many ways its second part,
For instance: Circumspect.
If Circum is added to
A position in a dance
You will find that you have made
A unique circumstance.
If instead you circum
A trip to another state
You might be delighted
That you can circumnavigate.
There are circum words
That most people can’t define
Like circumference and circumscribe
And circumquasiredefine.
But there’s a word that to circum
Would not be very wise.
You may have guessed by now
That that word, of course, is “size.”
Filed under Poems
Then After a Twist Of Fate No One Could See Coming…
If your story’s just beginning
But your ideas have run out
There’s no need for disappointment
So you can quit your silly pout.
All the greatest stories
Lose their steam before the end
And that’s why we continue
The “something lucky happened” trend.
It’s why stormtroopers can’t hit a barn
And main characters don’t get shivved.
Executions are delayed for a monologue
And Harry’s the boy who lived.
It’s why Ringwraith’s can sense the ring
From half a world away
But not when hobbits hold it
With a tree stump in the way.
Heroes outrun explosions
While the villain merely dies.
The white hats still draw faster
Despite the sunlight in their eyes.
So if you want a writing tip
I’ll give you one to keep:
As long as sh*t works out in the end
The fans will lose no sleep.
Filed under Poems
Horse Shoes
Clip-clop, clip-clop.
The horse passes by.
Clip-clop, clip-clop.
It has no shoes, but why?
Flip-flop, flip-flop.
Problem solved.
Filed under Poems
Regarding The Going-On of Hearts (Near, Far, Wherever…)
As icy water wraps me
Like Satan’s comfort blanket
The naked truth hits me
Like one of my French girls.
I realize that I will die
And almost certainly not win an Oscar.
I look out on the ocean,
Green waves far away massage
Where the shore’s shoulders would be
If the shore had shoulders.
A cold wind turns the surface
Into a speckled visage,
The watery face of a teenage boy
If that’s what the ocean were.
Leagues below, seaweed dances
As a beloved mermaid sings
About how unsatisfied she is
With royalty and wealth.
All I hear is screaming,
The sound of burning wreckage
Sinking below the surface,
And Celine Dion warming up offstage.
As I gaze into the eyes of my love
Whom I met a few hours ago
My suffering diminishes
For I do not suffer alone.
A thousand boyfriends will share
This 214-minute suffering
For so long as home videos exist.
I was her shoulder to cry on,
Something the shoulderless shore
Will never be.
Okay, I’m cold now.
Filed under Poems
… Just Disappointed
I’m not mad that in a day
Awareness of the Manta Ray
And its lack of presence in verse
Has hardly changed, for better or worse.
I’m not mad that my attempt
Has not resulted as I dreamt.
Alas, it is not as I wished,
For still few care for the flat gray fish.
And so in my last plea to you
I wrote, of the Manta, this haiku:
Swimming manta ray.
Crocodile hunter slain
And still no poems.
I hope I have inspired you
To write rhymes of the great ray too.
Rhyming’s hard, and some will balk
Yet still I’m glad we had this talk.
Filed under Poems
Universal Spoiler Alert
“I think you’re wrong” said someone
Who thought that they were right.
“I think you’re wrong,” said someone else,
And they began to fight.
I’d bet a million pesos
You saw that on TV last night.
Filed under Poems
“An Updated Classic” Or “Backstory”
It was one of those days
When you want apple pie
But the waitress is cute
And you’re just too shy.
It’s one of those days
To spend at the riverbank
But when you drive there, the water’s
All stuck in a tank.
You want to hang out
With men who are classy
But good guys are drunk, so you settle
For guys who’re half-assy.
And you and your half-assy
Friends you’ll soon see
Just sit around singing
About mortality.
Oh my my,
I missed the American pie.
Drove my chevy to the levy
But the levy was dry,
And the good old boys
Were drinking whiskey and rye.
Yeah, I guess this’ll be
The day that I die.
Don’t We All
They say I’ve a nose like a bloodhound,
Eyes of an eagle, ears of an elf.
That’s a polite way for people to say
I suck at hide-and-seek when I play by myself.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 