Humor

Paging Vincent Van Gogh

lillian10 Comments

Hybrid sunflowers
big time flower power.
Fast growing giant Kong,
Bashful Lemon Queen,
bold eye catching.
Ms. Mars, uncommonly gorgeous.
Elf, compact charmer
and Little Becka too.
Madly floriferous Candy,
Strawberry Blonde, Frilly
and Crimson Blaze,
dazzle with sensuous high definition.
Sunny Bunch, Honey Bears
precious beauties,
incredible lovable faces.
All flummoxed on your easel,
sowed one quarter inch deep
in oil, denied full sun,
borders and beds.
Your fame, their demise.

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Written for Day 6 NaPoWriMo, using day five’s prompt: Create a poem using words from a seed catalogue. This is from Burpee’s 2016 catalogue, pages for sunflowers. All words, including title, are exactly as written in Burpee’s except for those italicized. Kong, Bashful, Lemon Queen, Ms. Mars, Elf, Little Becka, Candy, Strawberry Blonde, Frilly, Crimson Blaze, Sunny Bunch, and Honey Bears are all hybrid sunflower varieties. I do love the Found Poetry genre. Photo: from beautiful Cape Cod’s Provincetown, several years ago. 

Arachnophobia Be Damned!

lillian25 Comments

[With apologies to Mother Goose]

Little Miss Muffet determined to stay
plots on her tuffet as bravely she sits
needles in hand she prepares now to play,
two legs to eight, but rapier in wits.

Nursery rhyme loser? A girl who has fits?
Web spun over years into dark comedy.
Finger pricked in the snatch, spider flits
flails, then falls. Arthropodic tragedy.

Silken threads become elegant to the eye
blood dots cloth as she doth smart
needles weave and suddenly stop with spasm cry.
Game over. Venomous to the heart.

Curds and whey topple, she utters a moan
dead heat with spider, they lie on the stone.

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Written for dVerse Poet’s Pub with Gayle tending bar. We’re asked to write a Bouts-Rimes which is French for Rymed Ends. This form began in the 17th century as a rhyming game. Gayle’s challenge: use the following fourteen words in the order presented: stay, sits, play, wits, fits, comedy, flits, tragedy, eye, smart, cry, heart, moan, stone. These words were borrowed from a sonnet by Edmund Spenser. These words, in this order, must be the end line rhymes. For me, another poetry sudoku!
The real Nursery Rhyme:
BY MOTHER GOOSE
Little Miss Muffet
Sat on a tuffet,
Eating her curds and whey;
Along came a spider,
Who sat down beside her,
And frightened Miss Muffet away.

 

Ms. Poppins’ Travails

lillian29 Comments

Drones.
Little mechanical beasties
shall not be my demise!
Flashing metal, whirs and spins,
winds whoosh. Just concentrate!
Umbrella steady, point toes left.
Nose bleeding, dress in shreds
whirling blades too close again.
Children waiting. Parents chafing.
Magic wearing thin.
Umbrella soon to be
my rain-only accessory.

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With apologies to Mary Poppins.  Motivated by Dverse Poets Pub prompt: create a Persona Poem. Decided to take the “light” approach today — a little humor to hopefully make you smile.

Birthday Party

lillian6 Comments

He sat upright
surrounded by canes, walkers
tv guides, checkerboard games,
and the people that accompany them
in a place like this.

He waited patiently
for the last strands of that age-old song,
some high pitched warblers
hunched over the tinny piano
pulled out for occasions like this.

Balloons hovered above his head
as candles dripped life-time moments
onto fondant flowers.
Festive paper plates too thin
for the thick slab he desired.

And so I asked the centenarian
for the secret of his longevity.
Well sonny, I always say,
close your eyes to dream.
Just make sure you open them wide
to watch where you step.

Balloons_design_background

 

 

 

All the World’s a Stage

lillian3 Comments

with apologies to Will Shakespeare

So many footlights burned out
spotlight jarred askew
curtains removed, scrim gone
proscenium arch stands stark.

Program says Act Three,
audience hushed, anticipates tragedy.
Director expects me, in shrouded black,
to slump upon the floor.

The script be damned.

Bulges revealed in sequined leotard,
fish net stockings over varicose veins.
Audience gasps at tapping frenzy
shuffles, wings, and Rockette highs.

Grinning, laughing, I finally decide,
this coda shall end.
And in the pit, the timpani booms
as I exit like a flying dervish
to joyous applause.

also called Timpani, with two mallets

Mama’s Refrain

lillian5 Comments

Hatless, wind ruffled hair
winter snow flake dandruff
red ears and mustache icicles.
Iowa snow gnome I am
when I see my breath.
Ninety percent of your body heat
escapes from your head.
Well mom, that’s why I’m so cool!

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Photo: corner of Boston’s Court and Tremont Streets several winters ago. Story behind the giant tea kettle: manufactured in 1873 by Hicks & Badger; a “sign” outside the old Oriental Tea Kettle shop. Signs were common in early Boston to identify shops for those who could not read. On January 1, 1875 a contest was held to guess its capacity and Boston’s Sealer of Weights & Measures officially measured it.  10,000 spectators stood by as 8 boys and 1 tall man concealed themselves inside the kettle. The court was officially measured to hold 227 gallons, 2 quarts, 1 pint, and 3 gills. An attached mechanism produced steam. To this day, in the cold winter months, steam is seen coming out of the kettle. Starbucks made a wise decision to place their store here!
Poetry prompt: final assignment in Fall 2015 Poetry Apprenticeship with Holly Wren Spaulding:  write an “advice” poem — perhaps from shoulds and should nots of your early days!

 

Missing You

lillian12 Comments

Dear Iowa,
It was osmosis.
City girl absorbed red barns
waving cornfields and fresh plum jam
tractors spewing dust from dawn
drop-in neighbors and party-line phones
sheets flapping on backyard lines
towns without stop lights
and churches with hats.
Neon lights are not fireflies.
Lillian

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