I found this one in my journal.
INK.
Nothing frustrates me more
Than when you’re about to sink
Into deep thoughts galore
And then you run out of
Tag: humor
Utensils for Eating Ice Cream
Utensils for Eating Ice Cream
Ice cream should only be served with a small spoon.
So that the end will not arrive too soon.
A large spoon makes the moment all too short
But will suffice if it’s a last resort.
The other exception that I could make
Is eating ice cream with my cake.
I wouldn’t break the cake-fork combination
For the small spoon Ice cream sensation.
Plastic forks though, change the rule of play
Since you don’t know when a prong might break away.
When using plastic, a spoon’s the way to go
To be safe on all utensil rules I know.
But the one ice cream utensil that’s the best
By far, held up above the rest
That trumps the spoon rules I suppose
Would be the one that’s underneath your nose.
My bank changed its name
My bank changed its name
One day they’ll make bank signs cheaper
like Halloween USA.
A temporary keeper
Of the name they picked that day
They’ll stretch their flimsy banner
Across the stonework on the lawn
And call the formal manor
A name that will be gone
By the time I order checks
And see that they’ve arrived.
I bet they’ll have the next
New name that they’ve contrived.
Choking on the Eucharist
I don’t plan on dying anytime soon, but if I were to go, I can’t imagine a better way to go. -Andy
Choking on the Eucharist
There might be some theology I’ve missed
But if I find my life has to be done
I hope that I choke on the Eucharist
If I’m to end this life without a list
Complete, or even one that has begun,
There might be some theology I’ve missed,
But I’d still welcome a death that was kissed
By the Real Presence of Jesus the Son.
I hope that I choke on the Eucharist.
I wonder if it’s a sin to insist
To die with Jesus and rise with the Sun.
There might be some theology I’ve missed,
If Hell tried to take me, I’d raise my fist
Victorious at the devil who thought he had won.
I hope that I choke on the Eucharist.
I smile at the thought of Satan pissed
If I died at the instant his work was undone.
There might be some theology I’ve missed.
I hope that I choke on the Eucharist.
Insect Victory
Insect Victory
This fly is bugging me.
No, I’m not waving you down
This bug that you can’t see
Is flying all around
And trying hard to find
The most annoying spot
To land and then unwind.
My foe is finally caught,
Turned to bug guts on my fingers
So I brush him on my pants.
Insect victory will linger
On my leg, I see three ants.
End-Standers
End-Standers
I laugh to myself at photos
Of end-standers who suppose
They wouldn’t make the cut unless they lean,
If they evened out their weight, they’d be unseen.
These end-standers lean in as if there was some pull
Of gravity or something at the time of the lull
In conversation when everyone jointly said cheese
Then smiled to wait for the moment to freeze.
But the capturer captures a good inch or so
Of background, around those who don’t even know
That their purpose in leaning is not to be seen
But grant me enjoyment in viewing their lean.
A question I’d ask Mama Mary
Asking Mary about Sneezes
“What would you say to Jesus
when you happened on His sneezes
would you call upon the other two?
Or simply say, You bless You?”
Some Times I Make Typos – Proofread copy
I guess you could say this is the English translation of Sum Thyme’s I’m ache Thai Pose. You’ll want to click that link if you haven’t read the original version of the poem.
Some Times I Make Typos.
Some time’s I make typos,
But I suppose
That’s a part of using
Computers. We’re losing
Our ability to auto
Correct or we’d rather
Machines somehow know
How words choose to gather
Letters in a specific order,
Which is better. And I’m,
a red squiggle supporter
who’s now saving time.
If it’s not under lined in red
There’s no sense in rereading
To check spelling for misleading
Things I might have said.
Sum thyme’s I’m ache Thai pose
My apologies for yesterday’s typo. Here’s a poem on typos to make up for it.
Sum thyme’s I’m ache Thai pose
Sum thyme’s I’m ache Thai pose
Butt eyes up hose
Hats apart off fusing
Come pewter’s. Whirl oozing
Are ebb ill it he two ought toe
Core hector weed rat her
Ma sheens um owe no
how herds chews too gat her
let hers inn us pacific hoarder,
Witch his beater. En dime,
air head squid gills a porter
whose know shaving thyme
Whiff hit snot hunter limed inn read
They’re snow since inn re reed ding
Too Czechs peeling four miss leading
Thinks eye mite half’s ed.
Now CLICK HERE for the easy to read version of this poem
Grilled Cheese Vs. Taco
Grilled Cheese Vs. Taco
Taco cuts to the cheese, “Lets get down to business.”
Looks at the sandwich and says, “I can wiz this.”
Onlookers respond, “dude, that cheese is cut
He’s ripped out like Rambo to kick your butt.”
But still Taco thinks “no man I’ll unbread him,
Leave him for slices of cheese then I’ll shred him.
He’ll crumble like feta, shake like parmesan
This grilled cheese is girl cheese I’ve stumbled upon.”
“Careful,” said Grilled Cheese “you shell of a taco.
I’ll break you apart and make you a nacho,
I’ll flatten you out and scare out your toppings.
Don’t bother me kid, go scrape up your droppings.”
BonjourPoetry 