Still Life

I look at the bowl.
Nothing at all is moving.
Stupid, lazy fruit.

Lowku

The mole is digging
Mariana  is  trenching
The Dead Sea just is

"Luck Be Some Minions. Luck Be Some Minions Tonight."

I'm trying to move.
But there's stuff.
Doggone it all
If it ain't rough
To get things just so,
So they won't break.
Really, how much time
Does it take?
I want some minions
With a large truck.
Now that would be
A stroke of luck!

If Thomas Hobbes Wrote Poetry

Happily hopping, the bunny went out
Searching for yummies to nibble.
Then came the wolf, with intentions so bad
That he turned the poor thing into kibble.

The End.

Focus

On days like this I have a list
And try hard to stick to it.
I tick the things that I must do
And try to show some grit.
Distractions come and wink their eyes
Enticing me to flit
On to less important things,
But I say, "No, you git!
I'm tryin' to do important things
So just pipe down and sit!"

No Trespassing

I'm fixing a hole
In the floor of my house
To keep out the rat
And keep out the mouse.
I want it all sealed,
An impregnable fort
So all their attacks
Will fall down quite short.

Free Couch

There once was a couch from a 'burb

Headed for life on the curb.

While loadin' 'er in

I knocked up my shin

And spoke quite a blustering blurb.

This limerick is mostly fictional.  There was a couch, a suburb and a truck.  We were not clumsy, though, and my shins went unscathed.

A Truly Lousy Poem on the Title

I got ordained the other day
So now they call me Reverend.
The formal sound sure strikes me weird;
At least my name's not Sigmund!
For Reverend Sigmund would be foul
To my own ears for certain.
If people called me such a thing
I'm sure it would be curtains.

Road Trip

One truck,
One wife,
One child.
The day
Will soon
Get wild.
We'll toodle
Down
The road.
Refusing
To
Be Slowed.
We'll reach
The place
We seek.
And hope
The babe
Don't reek.

The Truck

I shook my fist in impotent fury.  The truck wouldn't start.  "Start, you big dumb lug!"  

It clicked its engine at me.  "No, I think not.  I will be napping right here."

I was the one who wanted a nap.  I was the one who wanted to bury myself in blankets on the downstairs couch.  All I had to do was go take the truck, pick up a chair, and then lumber down the stairs.  And now the beastly thing was taunting me.  I couldn't very well threaten it with a sledgehammer since it's not my truck.  It would know that I was bluffing.  Nothing to do but jump it.

Wretchedness.  There shouldn't be this much green on the terminals.  It's not even Packers green.  "Don't even bother.  It's not going to work.  Go back inside and take your nap.  I won't tell."

If only...  But alas no.  I really must go.  But it's cold outside.  And I feel derided by a truck.  It's not even four wheel drive!  Maybe she's right.  Maybe it won't work?  And why am I thinking of this truck as a she?  What does that even mean?

[interlude]

It didn't work.  She was right.  It's going to take surgery.  Where was that sledgehammer?  

"Just give up, Sweetie.  I'm not worth your bother."

"I know you're not, you wicked thing!  But I can't take a proper nap without a clean conscience!  Naps demand it.  It's in their contract."

Corrosion.  Rust.  Bitter cold.  Darkness.  Ulysses would be proud.   Go to store.  Mother in law buys battery.  Come back.  Socket set?  Doesn't work.  What?  Work!  I just want a nap!  I don't need a fancy couch.  I'd settle for the floor.  

And then... finally, oh no, oh yes, yes!!!  It's coming together.  Hope, so long dashed, is rising from the snirt and grime, like a delicious bass from the lake!  Will she start and make my joy complete?

YES!!!

And now I'm too excited to sleep.  Stupid truck.

Home Made Juice Is a Win

I made a glass of juice today.
I made it for my wife.
I try to do the healthy things
To make a better life.
I peeled three oranges and then
I tossed some apples in.
And then, to top the beverage off,
I added lime for "WIN!"

A Conversation

Knock, knock.  Who's there?

A peck of pickled pepper pear.

Pickled pepper pear who?
And what the heck's that anyhoo?

Just a fruit that's spicy some,
Bathed in habanero rum.

Egads! that's nuts!

Nope, no nuts involved.
Just the ingredients I already mentioned.

When Is a Poem Not a Poem?

The verse inside my head 

Is hidden from my brain.

I'd like to write some poetry,

But think I'll just refrain.

Rather I'll just jot these words

Before they start to wane.

Easier than rhyming words

Is yankin' yer all's chain.

Baby Benjamin!

Baby Benjamin had many peeps.
And many peeps had baby Benjamin.
I am one of them and so are you,
So let's just call him cute.
Right arm!

Baby Benjamin had many peeps.

And many peeps had baby Benjamin.

I am one of them and so are you,

So let's just call him cute.

Right arm!  Left arm!

Baby Benjamin had many peeps.

And many peeps had baby Benjamin.

I am one of them and so are you,

So let's just call him cute.

Right arm!  Left arm!  Right foot!

Baby Benjamin had many peeps.

And many peeps had baby Benjamin.

I am one of them and so are you,

So let's just call him cute.

Right arm!  Left arm!  Right foot!  Left foot!

Dirt

Being    stuck    in  the mud
Is no excuse        for  desiring to stay dirty.
(But some people  just  loves them some mud.)

Four Thoughts

Oftentimes,

When the atmosphere is light

I smile and maunder.

Sometimes,

When I'm in the house alone,

I lie there and ponder.

Never,

When barraged by the quotidian,

Should I lose a sense of wonder,
...

But I do.

...

Always,

Though I'm foolish and ungrateful,

God has claimed me for his own.

Neither Here Nor There (A Shakespearean Sonnet)

I'd love to write a sonnet,
Making rhymes so easy.
I'd love to wear a bonnet,
But nothing that was sleazy.
I'd love to win a pony
And rent it out to babies.
I'd hate to be too bony,
Or covered with the scabies.
I'd like for things to warrant
Great praise from every man.
But sometimes there's a torrent
Of things I'd like to ban.
What do you do about that?
Just put on your pork pie hat.

Football

The football season's not quite done;
The Packers won today!
So now we play the "Dirty Birds"
Who stand right in our way.
I'm pulling for a victory
That isn't even close
But any win will sure suffice
Lest I become morose.

Home Medicine Limerick

I once had a wart on my toe.
And then it started to grow.
I burned it with flame
And then the pain came.
Now I've got one foot and woe!

Classic (and lousy) Meteorological Verse

Snowbanks are white
And cloudbanks are gray.
The palette is limited
On a cold winter's day.

Epiphany (just a wee bit weird)

Ann-Tie-uh-Cuss  E-Piff-uh-Knees
Was doing bad one day.
He went to ol' Jerusalem
And this is what he say,
"Your God is very weak, you see,
And I'll just show you how."
He roasted pig in the holy place
And boy that made him proud.

But Epiphanes was sore mistook
When he thought he could mock God
By putting bacon in his house
All bathed in piggy blood.

Epiphany means God shows up
But not to knock some heads.
Not even ol' Antiochus
Who was already quite dead.
No, God shows up in Jesus Christ
Not proud, nor spillin' blood.
He comes to testify to truth
And do his creatures good.

12 Drummers

A tone deaf drummer is much like an apple pie

Without any fish in it.

A non sequitur.

A rhythmless drummer is much like a lake

Without any water in it.

A travesty.

Twelve drummers flailing are much like Excedrin

Without any medicine in it.

A headache.

A Piper

I dream of certain things for my old age,
Fanciful whimsy that I do not subject
To nagging ethics
Or the moral considerations that have such pride of place today.
These fancies of mine are mostly philanthropic in nature,
Though they have a bit of a crust.

I want a porch.
A big wrap around affair, no screen, but fully covered.
I want a big chair of sorts
With the imprint of my bottom and my bottom alone.
I want to shake a stick at youthful types
Telling them loudly about gout and other wonders.

And I want a pipe.
I want to fiddle with the sweet smelling tobacco
And try to light it,
Lose track of the thing
And try again.
"Where were those matches again?"
(It's not a matter of forgetfulness, but insouciance.)
And I want to sit there and puff awhile in the summertime
Lingering over memories,
Perhaps cooking up hare-brained schemes.
I want my wife to come out with lemonade and say with crinkled nose,
"Are you bothering yourself with that stinky thing again?"
"Yes m'dear.  And I love you dearly."

I want to be a piper piping.
And I want to glory in life which has been so beautiful.

Lords Don't Leap for Just Any Old Thing (the 10th Day)

The Earl of Gloucester, the Baron of Kent,
The Duke of the county of Devon,
All were together and sporting one day
When 'round bout the hour of eleven
A maiden passed by and shouted out loud,
"Thy feet are like old hunks of stone!"
And like a gazelle she did prance on her way
Thus leaving the lords all alone.
"What did she say?" said the Earl with a huff,
I'm bouncy as bouncy can be!"
"Ha, ha" said the Baron with obvious mirth,
"I'm surely more nimble than thee."
"Codswollop, gents.  I think it's quite clear,"
Said the Duke with superior air.
"I'll leapfrog ye both.  I'll go flying by
And leave several furlongs to spare!"
So right on the spot, without wasting a breath
The lords started leaping like toads.
And so lost in fun did those same lords become
That they leaped several miles down the road.

Progressing Haikus (The 9th Day of Christmas)

When I dance
The awkward steps up...
And trips me.

When nine ladies dance
The graceful pirouetting
Is smooth like butter.

When I dance with nine ladies
The butter greases the parquet floor
And we all crash and break limbs.

Hope I Don't Get In Trouble for the Eight Day of Christmas

When baby came the milk did too
For health and strength to bring.
My wife's been pumping for some time
And will do till the Spring.