An Anniversary Message

They say marriage is about sparks,
About that someone who in the dark
Sets your mind and loins aflame.
But isn’t that meager? Lame?

I’ve learned in this blissful year
That’s it’s more like cracking a beer
Open and accepting farts
Are made by those with good hearts.

So while I take a hot shower,
You grunt on the throne with power.
It’s the sign of your loving care
That you keep pooping and don’t stare.

Happy Anniversary!*

This was written for Chel Owens’s A Mused Poetry Contest for 2 October 2020. I got my idea from these stupid things online about how “I wish everyone would realize love is about little things like snuggling or getting to the point where you don’t care about each others’ farts!”

Yeah, maybe you’re right, but it’s also just not terribly fun to think about in terms of romance. So here I go, making fun of those things.

*It’s not my actual anniversary.

Photo by Designecologist on Pexels.com

The Standing Stones

 

He chased her through
the standing stones,
to catch, seize her
smile and laughter.
He crashed into
megalith‘s bones
to a place of
grass and heather.
Now he’s lost to
a world unknown
unable to tear
at the aether.
She laughs anew,
his pitied groan
feeding banshee’s
lustful anger.

This poem was written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt,¬†Megalith. Because I didn’t know the word before looking it up, I thought I’d clarify that a megalith is a stone structure like stonehenge. Pretty neat!

Photo by Stephen + Alicia on Pexels.com

The Forbidden Fruit

Note: This is for the A Mused Poetry Contest, so don’t read it, Chel.

At night you’ll see me gently creeping
With mom and dad hard a sleeping
In through laundry room door.
I open the bag of forbidden snacks –
Attractive gummies, laundry packs.

Then you’ll hear my lips a smacking,
My YouTube channel gaining backing
While I eat Tide Pods galore.
My mouth – it foams with Clean Breeze
And a few civilian casualties.

The tags may say “Danger!” “Warning!”
But industry tools are boring.
As a big attention whore
I munch and crunch on banned fare,
On poison beautiful, I’m well aware.

The Chel Owens A Mused Poetry contest (get it? A Mused, amused? Lol) has just now started up – and you can bet your bottom dollar I’m in it to win it! ūüėČ This week the theme was warning labels, and I went with the most necessary warning label of all: that added to Tide Pods after the Tide Pod Challenge.

Gondola Dreams

venitian-garden

Row me on your gondola,
‘Neath the royal bridge.
Marble, carved and hewn,
And rocks – just a smidge!

Row me on your gondola,
By the palace grounds.
Perhaps I’ll catch a prince,
Get yearly a thousand pounds!

Child, there’s no gondola –
We’re not in sunken Venice!
Now wash those dirty hands
Or you’ll be a public menace!

 

Then buy me a gondola,
And row me all around.
We’ll go see Nan in Manchester –
Daddy, how’s that sound?

We’ll paddle the waters:
Over the sea to Skye,
Across the pond to India,
To London for a pie!

How ’bout we cross this bridge
And see the other side?
Perhaps it’s the grocery shop,
Perhaps we’ll play seek and hide!

Sounds great, Daddy!

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Hokay, so, this is a wee bit late – but the story in the poem came right to my little brain-o when I saw the prompt picture on Crimson’s Creative Challenge #81.

Birds Aren’t Real – A Poem

nature bird red wildlife

What are those creatures flying in the winds?
No other feathers bear, none else do dive.
They’re strange for a reason: The Man – he sends
These drones out to monitor our dull lives.

Yes – those eyes are cameras, watching you vent
While you eat, walk, play your video games,
Or plan to overthrow the government.
The birds, battery-powered bots, take aim.

Have you ever examined their “feathers”?
Clearly, they are just recycled plastic.
Feel them – are they scales, skin or leather?
They’re neither natural nor fantastic!

So while we wait indoors for Covid’s end,
Remember – their lithium batteries
Are charging now, then our lives they’ll attend
And tattle on our overdue book fees.

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This was written for Chelsea Owens’s first ever Weekly Hilarity Contest! This week, the theme was¬†birds, and I was astonished because¬†birds aren’t real.

The citation says:

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
But we all know it’s just a government-issued photo.¬†

An Ode to Giant Turds

the end text on tissue paper

This was written for the final Terrible Poetry Contest, a morbid lament about something long gone. I had to pull out something truly terrible that rhymed, and this – this is my final chance at victory!

Those who are faint of heart may turn away, but there is nothing truly offensive below. Just quite foul.

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Look how ye curl
Above the water’s surface
You big, sassy turd, source of my pride.

Rare is the whorl
Which rises enough to lance
Through soft, golden expanse, brave height.

But now, brown pearl,
I must take the flushing stance
And send you away, unforgotten but affright.

Thou doth swirl
In a porcelain water-dance
Amidst ribbons and twills of white.

Gone! Flushed, hurled!
My mind is blown, in a trance,
That I couldn’t share your largess and might.

The joy of my innards
When you escaped by chance
During a bowel movement after midnight!

I’ll never unfurl
Our secret toilet stance
That created you, the biggest turd of my life.

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Yes, this was about the sadness one feels when flushing a turd so big you kind of feel proud.

Photo by Markus Spiske on Pexels.com

The Death Machine

bloom blooming blur brick wall

Some new thoughts
are scary-
they’ll ruin our
ways.

So we’ll fight,
kill to choose
the future’s
course.

Why must the
death machine
precede a new
epoch?

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This was written for Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt #146, Epoch, in 27 words.

Learning to Meditate

background balance beach boulder

Think of one word.

Focus.

Focus…

My mind races.
Other thoughts enter,
I cannot
do-

Forgive yourself.

Try again.

Try again…

Will I ever be
Able to do this?
I cannot
reach-

Transcendence requires patience.

Don’t rush.

Don’t rush…

There’s no way
To empty my mind.
I must give
up.

For today, perhaps.

Come back.

Come back…

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This post was inspired by Jade Wong’s World of Words prompt this week,¬†shanta, which is a Bengali word meaning calm and peaceful. This reminded me of when I tried to learn to meditate and how reaching any sort of calm was so hard. Patience, young grasshopper, patience!

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Big Science Mountain

scientist

The mad scientist created
Freeze rays and said, “This is the best,
I dare anyone to beat me.
I’ll freeze banks and avoid arrest,
Then freeze folks at the city hall
To cause the government to fall.
Yessir, I’m gonna have a ball,
With my freeze ray and my money.

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This poem was pooped out of somewhere for the Terrible Poetry Contest #55, “Big Rock Candy Mountain.” In order to do this, I had to read up on the song and found out it was supposed to be about Hobo Paradise. I wrote about Mad Science Paradise.

I chose this photo because all the science done in the 50’s and 60’s was mad science because they didn’t really care if they died from some insane exposure to chemicals or whatever.

Photo by Museums Victoria on Unsplash

You Carried Me

purple crocus in bloom during daytime

You carried me.
I didn’t ask,
But then again,
I couldn’t speak.

You settled me
On soft, silken,
Pinkest pillow,
Kissed me tender.

My eyes were shut,
But I still knew
You adored me.
I cherished you.

I wanted to
Clean the sad pile
Of tissues at
Your well shod feet.

Did my urges
Disrespect your
Sadness and grief?
I allowed tears.

Upon your exit
Through sanctum’s door,
Someone shut my
Coffin’s wood lid.

When you returned,
You carried me
In my casket
To earthen home.

But my spirit
Carries you now
Until you come
To rest by me.

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This was written for the January 9th Carrot Ranch prompt. Sure, I took a long time getting to it, but it also took a long time to figure out what to write. Also it didn’t turn out to be a flash, but you know, I tried…

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com