I began composing a poem for Father’s Day and midstream decided against it. For some reason, I simply got bored and decided to work on a commission instead. If you’d like to finish the poem for me, you can: Our father, who farts in our den, Hallowed be thy game. By halftime come, Thy will be done. The score is zip to seven. Give us this day our daily beer And give us backstage passes… Oh, and many apologies for…
In a land full of mystery, magic, and mist, In a time oh so long, long ago, There were creatures like unicorns, ogres and trolls. There were creatures above and below. Below, there were brownies and fairies and elves, Tiny people with magic for might. There were dwarves who worked mines in the deepest of caves. There were zombies who walked through the night. In the forest were nymphs who were souls of the trees, Running naked like babes when…
I took a poetry course in college as one of my requirements in my writing major. In one class session, the TA had each of us write a question on one piece of paper and an answer on another piece of paper. Then, we were to pass our questions to the person on our left and our answers to the person on our right. Whatever question and answer combination we ended up with became our little impromptu “poem” of the…
With so many books and not enough shelves, I need help with stacking, so send me some elves. I need a new desk and some file drawers, too. I’ve got oh so much (far too much) crap stuff to do. I haven’t done laundry yet. Nor have I cooked. My pots are still packed, and don’t ask if I’ve looked. My plates are still hidden (I eat standing up), And oh what I wouldn’t do for a clean cup. I…
Give me your tired feet, poor feet let me rub them and give me your huddled masses of sweaters I made you wear this morning I know you’re yearning to breathe free of them your feet, like wretched refuse, stink dip them in the waters along the teeming shore and send these rolls of film to your father he’s there, taking photos of the homeless this tempest-tossed umbrella…