Humor

The Tooth Fairy

lillian2 Comments

Translucent diaphanous wings.
Only one of her
not like hummingbirds who flit.

Collector of juvenile items
pulled or shed.
Never antiques.

Never the payer,
she collects payments
for the collectibles she collects.
.
Fair in her fee structure
adjusted to inflation.
Remnants of my youth, worth a dime.

Collectibles from my son? Fifty cents.
Today?
One dollar or more.

Children grin,
proudly display gaps in their mouths.
Proof of her existence.

I wonder, is she swayed by wealth?
Or is she kind-hearted enough
to make pro-bono flights?


NAPOWRIMO 2026. Day 30! Last day of National Poetry Writing Month.
Prompt: Write a poem about a real or mythical being or profession with a musing yet dispassionate tone. AI image generated on Bing Create.

Tanka Torment with Mr. Goodbar

lillian2 Comments

Me, sweetaholic?
It’s not alcoholism.
But it’s an ism.
Have some carrot sticks instead.
I’d rather unwrap than peel.


NAPOWRIMO Day 22. Prompt: Write a poem where the speaker is in dialogue with him or herself.

Mr. Goodbar is a real Hershey’s candybar. Here, it’s simply me arguing with my conscience and my sweet side wins out.

TANKA: A Japanese poetic form of 5 lines with the following syllabic content: 5-7-5-7-7. Some say it’s a haiku that has more to say!

Poetry for me is . . .

lillian9 Comments

power and magic and lilt
and creativity and rhythm and feelings
and making sense with words.
Rhyme scheme, haiku, free verse
and so much more.

WTF? NGL.
Will the flying thumbs of today
have the patience to spell it all out?
I’m just asking, will poetry survive?
FAWC, I’m SMH and wondering.
You may be BWL,
but this is FR.
SRSLY, PLZ tell me
how to write a sonnet,
create a rhythmic flow
or express my POV
using this shorthand chicanery?
IKR?
Maybe like Basho,
there’s an enterprising new poet
waiting in the wings
who will add RIZZ
to this new language.
Teach us oldsters to translate.
PAW. I’m watching.
I’ve got TFW
something new is on the horizon
and the actual problem is,
I’m just really over the hill.


TRANSLATION

What the fuck? Not gonna lie.
Will the flying thumbs of today
have the patience to spell it all out?
I’m just asking, will poetry survive?
For anyone who cares,
I’m shaking my head and wondering.
You may be bursting with laughter,
but this is for real.
Seriously, please tell me
how to write a sonnet,
create a rhythmic flow
or express my point of view
using this shorthand chicanery?
I know right?
Maybe like Basho,
there’s an enterprising new poet
waiting in the wings
who will add charisma and charm
to this new language.
Teach us oldsters to translate.
Parents are watching. I’m watching.
I’ve got that feeling when
something new is on the horizon
and the actual problem is,
I’m just really over the hill.

NAPOWRIMO Day 14. Prompt today is to “write a poem that bridges (whether smoothly or not) the seeming divide between poetry and technological advances.” AI image generated on Bing Create.

Mabel’s Phone Call from Yesterday

lillian1 Comment

So she said to me . . .
I did it! I’m here in New York City,
finally in the Easter Parade.
Cost a bundle for the flight.
But I looked out the plane’s window
and saw the Archangel Gabriel.
A real added plus to the trip.
Couldn’t afford a real Easter bonnet
so I resurrected my Christmas wreath.
Tied it under my chin with pink ribbons,
made it look more spring-like.
Everyone said I just glowed.
Best part of all, was the tinsel.
It framed my face in a sparkly fringe!


NAPOWRIMO day 6! Today’s prompt: try writing with a breezy conversational tone, while including at least one thing that could only happen in a dream.

Image from Bing Create. And no, I didn’t get a phone call like this yesterday and I don’t know a Mabel. But if she was real, I suspect she’d be a lot of fun.

The subject is . . .

lillian2 Comments

. . . eggs!
Hens lay them, people abscond with them.
Shelled with white and yellow insides,
eggcellent when fully cooked.

Who among you drinks raw eggs?
Holiday eggnog is not for me.
Bourbon or rum added to nog?
Never enough for me to imbibe!

Runny yolks pool on your plate,
drip from your fork,
require slurping to consume.
That is definitely not for me!

Give me on-the-dry-side scrambled,
well done frittatas, firm omlettes,
or a good solid hard boiled egg.
What can I say?

I’ve always been
a firm handshake kind of gal.


NAPOWRIMO day 5!

The prompt today, for National Poetry Writing Month, is “to write a poem in which you talk about disliking something – particulary something utterly innocuous, like clover. Be over the top! Be a bit silly and overdramatic.”

I thought it appropriate to write about eggs today since that silly Easter bunny has presumably been hopping around leaving Easter eggs for so many folks.

Image by Myriams-Fotos from Pixabay

I Love Lucy

lillian4 Comments

Long-legged Lucy played with the boys,
Barbies or baby dolls not her toys.
Miniature soldiers marched in her room.
Games with a ball, she really bloomed.

Grown up Lucy? A soccer star.
Local legend, legs are her fame.
Precision, passing and footwork her game.
Pele’s bicycle kicks win acclaim.

Off season? You’d never guess.
Third from the left in that famous line,
a seasoned Rockette
her kicks still shine.



NAPOWRIMO Day 3. April is National Poetrey Writing Month.

Prompt: “Write a poem in which a profession or vocation is described differently than it typically is considered to be.”

Confession: as a young girl, I always wanted to be a Rockette!

Image by Keith Johnston from Pixabay

Haiku Reference Guide

lillian9 Comments

Prickle on parade.
Suddenly frightened, fluffs quills.
Porcupines ready.

Squawking, gawking fun.
Flamboyant cacophony,
flamingos’ party.

Tower strolls slowly
searching for acacia trees.
Giraffes’ favorite treat.

Bloat walks to water,
waddles with heavy slow steps.
Hippos seek cool bath.

Troop hops high and long.
Daily constitutional,
kangaroos’ amble.

Black and white striped suits
mimic Armani’s men’s wear.
Zebras’ dazzle style.

Alfred Hitchcock’s muse,
murder gathers on roof tops.
Crows screech, caw loudly.

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today, Bjorn is hosting Open Link Night from Sweden. OLN means we are not confined to a particular form of poem, or rhythm, or rhyme scheme. Image created on Bing Create.

FYI: I’ve used the group names of animals here: a group of porcupines is a prickle; a group of flamingos is a flamboyant; a group of giraffes is a tower; a group of hippos is a bloat; a group of kanagaroos is a troop; a group of zebras is a dazzle; and a group of crows is a murder.

Come On Along and Join Us

lillian34 Comments

KIT KAT KLUB HEADLINERS TONIGHT

Mr. Goodbar and the Red Hots
     jazz like you’ve never heard it before!

The Sugar Babies, Twizzlers and Sweetarts
     let your imaginations think about that!

Mike & Ike serving the best hootch in town
     great way to cap your payday!

Leave the Missus at home or bring her along
     she’ll enjoy the Big Hunk struttin’ his stuff!

A bit-o-honey for everyone
     AT THE KIT KAT, WE NEVER DISAPPOINT!


It’s Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today, I’m hosting and having a bit of fun with the prompt. I’ve listed names of twenty-seven candy bars and asked folks to create a poem that includes at least one of them in their poem. They’re free to include more than one from the list if they choose. If they select a candy with the word “bar” or “bars” in it, IE Oh Henry Bars, they can drop the word “bars/bar” — however, except for dropping that word, they must include the name of the candy exactly as it’s named in the prompt…no words in between etc. Can you find the candy bars I’ve included?

Image created on Bing Create. Candies I’ve included: Kit Kat, Mr. Goodbar, Red Hots, Sugar Babies, Twizzlers, Sweetarts, Mike & Ike, Payday, Big Hunk Bars, Bit-O-Honey

Zoo Keepers See Danger Ahead

lillian23 Comments

A flamboyance followed
the out-of-control antics
of the most orange one.
They dumbly stood on one leg
seemingly unable
to stand on their own two feet.

Conspiracies exploded in numbers
as zookeepers looked on aghast.
These animals were becoming
a colony, a clan,
a bloat on the community,
a herd of blind cows.

Behaviorists know otters may romp,
crocadiles bask, and zebras dazzle.
But humans who gaggle,
needlessly creating a pandemonium,
deliberately crashing the order of things
that’s dangerous to every zoo in the world.

All zoo keepers must issue a warning:
Beware the squeal of a muskrat
in cahoots with a flamboyance.
Remember the movie “The Birds” –
they gather precariously on a high wire,
the murder creating the cacophony.
We cannot let them succeed.

Written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today is April Fool’s Day and in keeping with the date, Melissa asks us to write a poem that is partially a lie and partially the truth. She suggests a 60% to 40% ratio.

Not sure about my percentages….but suffice it to say, my poem is not about a zoo. There is much truth here however. Note the use of actual names for groups of animals.
Flamboyance: a group of flamingos (who are orange and often stand on one foot)
Conspiracy: a group of lemurs
Colony: a group of ants
Clan: a group of hyenas
Bloat: a group of hippos
Herd of cows
Romp: a group of otters
Bask: a group of crocodiles
Dazzle: a group of zebras
Gaggle of geese
Pandemonium: a group of parrots
and finally, a Murder is a group of crows.

Image by Kev from Pixabay

Let’s Talk Today

lillian16 Comments

ME: Want to know the fourcast? As in f-o-u-r?

YOU: The forecast? Don’t you mean as in f-o-r-e?

ME: No, the four year fourcast.

YOU: How can meterologists do that?

ME: Well, they can do it now. They watch the gulf-stream pattern, from the Gulf of America and the blow-hard-wind data from Mount McKinley. They even have access to X-rated data.

YOU: So what’s their prediction?

ME: A four year blizzard! Be prepared!

YOU: How?

ME: Just head to a fabric store.

YOU: Do those exist anymore?

ME: Go to the one on Blue Avenue and head to the left side of the store. They have a good supply of outerwear patterns. Get plenty of heavy fabric. Take it to a seamstress and tell her to make of it a parka. For your soul then, wear it outside every day and resist the storm!


Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today is Prosery Monday and Lisa is our pubtender. She provides us with the lines
“Make of it a parka
For your soul.”
from Before you know you owned it by Alice Walker. We are to include these exact words, in this exact order, in a 144 word piece of prose/flash fiction. We are however, allowed to add punctuation or change the punctuation. Image made on Bing Create.