Category: humor

The Fall of the Gladiator Hand

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He always gave the death grip
When the family came together
Unprompted from his arm would slip
his handshake like a tether.

You’d innocently place your hand
In vice grips he’d deploy
But quickly you would understand
Your hand was like a toy

Your whole arm moved up and down,
This mad-man grip was crazy.
I decided I could take his crown
If I could just be lazy.

The next time that we met again
I had my silent wish,
Extended out my hand and then
I gave him the limp fish.

My shake was absolutely dead
No muscles tensed at all
The limp fish that his hand was fed
‘caused gladiator’s fall.

Joys of Parenthood

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On sleepless days from sleepless nights
I’m up and solving sibling fights.
Who’s Cheerios are on the ground?
Who gets to sweep the mess around?

The poopiest of all gets changed
While my shoes are rearranged
By the other dressing up
And spilling from her sippy cup.

Our newborn doesn’t need those toys
They’ve piled on, releasing noise
Competing with his little cry,
I pick him up but wonder why

I bring him to my shoulder, pat his back
And though my shirt was colder, once was black
My brilliant son performs as if on cue
And leaves a badge of honor there for you

To notice what I’ve probably forgotten
Amidst the other joys that I’ve been caught in.

http://www.bonjourpoetry.com

Awkward Family Photos

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There’s something deep inside me that sets off an alarm,
We see a family photo full of an awkward charm
That’s worthy of the internet for all the world to see
And laugh at all those poses that you hold so awkwardly.

The knee shelves, the arm shelves, the weapons of choice,
The costumes, the settings, cause me to rejoice.
With brothers as bacon and mommy the pooh
The awkwardian era’s all there just for you

To break from your day and click through endlessly
Finding family ideas for new Photos to be
On your cards, on your walls, those glares will be free
To awkwardly stare down more people like me.

http://www.bonjourpoetry.com

visit http://www.awkwardfamilyphotos.com

Bird Poop Rainbow

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My windshield wipers smear bird poop across the window.
As if the Holy Spirit’s in the form of a Dove,
I look at this white brown and green rainbow
And start thinking ‘bout God’s covenant Love.

We want a movie with music and clean rays of light
Even though Jesus healed eyes with dirt and spit.
Although we don’t all get the gift of sight,
Don’t tell me that God doesn’t give a poop.

http://www.bonjourpoetry.com

The Bearded Food-Fighter Talking Snack

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I grow hair on my face.
And I think that’s a bit weird
That my chin can displace
Skin and grow out a beard.

These opened up pores
bring a strange facility,
My beard slowly stores
Up food with ability

To conjure it later
When the time is right
These amo’d invaders
Prepare to food fight.

If you bring it with good things
You’ve bought just to throw
I’ll wing it with ling’rings
Of “Classics” I know.

These leftovers left on
Will stay there for lunch
Lest you look for the cleft on
My chin, throw some punch.

If you prompt a defense,
We’ll counter attack
My fork circumvents
My mouth with this snack

Plucked out of my hair
To put you to shame
I’m ready, beware,
If you don’t know my name,

I am that bearded guy
Who has hair coming out of his face.
I make small children cry,
Wearing food that I misplace

In this curly red haired machine
That lets torturers each take their turn
Trying to bring me down clean
With their blades and razor burn.

No, you lost this fight yesterday
Or maybe it was the day before.
So go ahead and play
with your food while I ignore

The unsightly bits of food in my beard.
The bits of food that make me look feared
To you and your friends that think it’s weird
That halfway through lunch, my plate has been cleared.

http://www.bonjourpoetry.com

Japanese Beetles Sucked

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A Japanese Beetle should cower
When sitting on top of my flower,
Eating Petunias with Glee.
He’ll no longer mettle
I’m crushing each petal
And stomping each buffet to-be.

Trapped inside astonishment
We both hold some accomplishment
Until I find his buddies in my garden
Pesto potential’s eaten
By those who’ve found a seat in
My basil plants and fail to beg my pardon.

Previous instincts didn’t suck
So I try a whirlwind attack
Rubbing my shop vac quick for luck
Let’s hope that they never come back.

http://www.bonjourpoetry.com

This vehicle will truly get me far

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This vehicle will truly get me far,
Though I sputter down the Franciscan Way.
I still remember when I bought my car.

Car payments and I would no longer spar,
Instead I pay myself and now can say
This vehicle will truly get me far.

This vehicle is one that’s more on par
With one who lives like no one else today.
I still remember when I bought my car

Opportunity knocked this door ajar
So I went and stood inside the doorway.
This vehicle will truly get me far.

I’ll drive a beater then I’ll raise the bar
and buy something that’s less work and more play.
I still remember when I bought my car

It was a choice that some viewed as bizarre.
This turning point’s recalled as I relay
This vehicle will truly get me far
I still remember when I bought my car.

Newsprint Vs. The iPhone

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The engineer and iPhone both concurred
Newsprint’s slowly picking up the slack
There’s an application in the printed word,
Uniquely, it can turn your fingers black.

This inky application, developers can’t copy
And that’s not the only Ap that’s prized in pages
For us who think the data plan’s a lot we
Search outside the screen to spend our wages.

Buying into the wrapping application for vases,
For 3D Art we paste Paper Mache.
The competition that the iPhone faces
keeps expanding applications every day.

Certainly iPhones are falling behind
Nostalgia in newsprint technology
Advanced engineers have tried but can’t find
An Ap that’s as good for canary pee.

Encouraging Ventriloquism

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All of our children are sleeping.
while we’re stubbing our toes,
biting our fists, quickly creeping
around these furniture foes

That make me into a ventriloquist
Inflicted with a loud-noised injury.
I know that I can quietly resist,
But charming children wake to scream for me.

Depressed Lawn

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Imprint of Matthias in the lawn.

I came home yesterday to find my lawn depressed
With an indent of my child, it seems to have regressed
To a time when that small infant took a nap out in the shade
Staring up at pinecones while the other kids had played.

Stepping over sweet Matthias and crashing near his head
They wheel’d their wagons, trucks and cars across his bed.
He’s in that adorably cute, but not too clingy phase
Where we can set him down and know he stays.

Unless he’s on a blanket being dragged somewhere
And that only happens once-ish, and then there
He stays while Gianna’s being punished for kid-dragging
And then changed into a diaper that’s not sagging.

All the while my oldest drives his little pickup truck
Through our basil and our peppers before he gets it stuck
caged between tomatoes, he parks against the wall
I pause conversing with a friend so that I can call

out “Hey Duncan, don’t drive into the garden.”
I take a lunch-break-look around the yard and
add “don’t kill the plants, let the bugs eat–em.,
After all, if it weren’t for us, who’d feed-em.”

All of this in a long day lunch break passed
while underneath my blanket had been cast
A grass angel image that will quickly fade
Left in recollection and poetic form relayed.