humor

I’m Listing

lillian21 Comments

Some days I feel as though I’m listing,
weighed down by too much news.
Hantavirus, gas prices,
John Roberts resurrecting Jim Crow,
taxpayer money gilding an extravagant,
exaggerated, excessive, exorbitant,
extraneous, bawdy ballroom
for Mr. You Know Who.

Perhaps a blooming list might brighten my day.
My favorite blooms then, in no particular order:
hyacinth, cherry blossoms, tulips, daffodils,
crocus, lilacs and *panties of the week.

Listing toward eighty now,
purple veined hands, crepey knees,
fading eyebrows, expanding girth.
All changes I can live with.
I can still dance the waltz,
twist lasciviously, bunny hop ridiculously
and show off my *bloomers
doing high Rockette kicks.

So the point is, listing at my age
is more than a poetic feat.
It should tell you I am alive and well,
not planning any time soon
to take a docile back seat!


Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today, Bjorn from Sweden is hosting.

WORDS OF EXPLANATION:
1. The astericks on panties and bloomers. Back in the day, panties were called bloomers!

2. Panties of the Week were a very popular fad in the 1950s. You bought a 7-pack of girls underpants and each one had a day of the week embroidered on them!

3. The Prompt: Bjorn asks us to write a “list poem”. He says, “The use of lists in poetry can be very powerful. You can start with a list and expand around it. Maybe even your shopping list can be made into poetry by reflecting on what the list tells you about the season. The whole poem may be a list, but you may also use a section only as a list.”

So basically we’re to write a poem that involves listing. I had fun with this one!

Image is AI created on Bing Create.

Tussie Mussie Life

lillian53 Comments

She bloomed in every setting.
Rose patterned everyday dresses,
cherry cheerful flannel pajamas,
fruit speckled summer skirts.
Wisteriaed wall paper
wooed her to sleep each night.
Bougainvillea borders
bedecked her breakfast nook.
She lived up to her name,
Lily lived a lovely cheerful life.


Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today I’m hosting at the pub and asking folks to write a Quadrille (a poem of exactly 44 words, sans title) that includes the word “bloom” or a form of the word.

Image: Hopie in the Garden, painted in 2021 by Hilary Pecis, on display at Boston’s Museum of Fine art in their Framing Nature: Gardens and Imagination exhibit.

Explanation of Tussie Mussie: During Queen Victoria’s reign (1837 – 1901) a small bouquet of flowers called a tussie mussie was a common accessory. Flowers were considered more modest adornment than jewelry for young women.

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

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

Hear Ye, Hear Ye, Puss in Boots Fans!

lillian26 Comments

That nine lives saying?
A reincarnation tale.

Rowan, Puss’ cousin, was the original one.
He died on a cold winter’s night
giving rise to number two, Tabby Tat.
Nearsighted, she met her demise
squinting down a busy street.
Number three was Kit the Kat,
catapulted to fame by a candy bar.
Sugar highs and alley fights
finally did him in.
Mouser came next, not very smart,
he followed a mouse into a trap
and was last heard to say, oh crap!
The next reincarnation came in a far away land.
Penelope the Puma,
sadly and cruelly killed by a hunter’s hand.
Her ghost became the charming Ms. Cheetah,
seduced to her death by a devilish Tom.
Lorna the Lynx was up next.
She lolled through life until her untimely death.
And now if you’ve been counting with me
we’ve come to the ninth penultimate life.
That final reiteration,
none other than Felicity Feline,
intensely happy, true to her name.
I am delighted to report, she found a happy home
with the prolific painter, Mr. Louis Wain.
Her portrait, painted in joyous colors,
stands out in his collection.
And so, while all those other eight are forgotten
Felicity lives on in perpetuity,
frozen in time, displayed on an easel,
for generations to visit and see.


Screenshot

Written for NaPoWriMo day 23, off prompt.

Written for dVerse Tuesday Poetics on prompt where Melissa is introducing us to the English artist Louis Wain. He is “best known for his drawings of anthropomorphised cats. Born in Londin in 1860…he attended the West London School of Art, where he would go on to teach for a time….In 1884…The Illustrated London News was first to publish Wain’s art. It wasn’t until 1886 that he received more widespread recognition….he was elected president of the National Cat Club….he was a prolific artist. During his lifetime, he drew thousands of cats (it is estimated that the number exceeds 150,000.” Melissa asks us to choose one of his paintings/drawings she includes in her prompt, and to “write a poem inspired by the artwork. Simple enough, right? There’s just one catch – you may not use the word cat anywhere in your poem, including the title.”

I selected Wain’s painting, Untitled.

I had some fun with this….using many different words that refer to cats: puss, tabby, kit, mouser, puma, cheetah, tom, lynx, and feline. I also had some fun with wordplay, without using the word “cat” as in the Kit Kat candy bar, and catapulted.