The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Posts tagged ‘Poem’

De Jour of the Week (1/4/10)

1/4/10

Boise State and TCU and … poetry! What a night!

My Supreme Intellect

I can tell by my supreme intellect that you’re mad at me,
I can tell because your middle finger is held up so clearly.

Aha, once again my might brain comes to my rescue
I can guesstimate with some amount of confidence that I’ve just had a miscue
When you asked me ‘do I look fat in these jeans?’ that was my cue
And I think my choice of saying, “did you seriously just ask me that?” and then laughing was a choice I’ll rue.

Once again my mind is hard at work –
I knew something was bothering you the second you stopped swearing and foaming at the mouth and finished your rant with the word ‘jerk.’

My mind is wonderous, wonderful, and wondering
When will my phone ring?
Sure, I broke the ice by saying I liked your wedding ring,
But I just felt like we really had something …
I’m waiting for your call with baited breath my ho-on-the-side darling.
But my intelligence tells me it may not work – that slap did sting.

Here is an educated guess
It was a faux paus when I said, “kiss more, talk less.”

I’m even good at logical deductions
I’ve learned from experience that fortune cookies are hardly cookies, and even less so fortunes
Still, I shouldn’t have taken yours and said ‘you could do with smaller portions.’

Even though I don’t know you, I am thinking you’re miffed,
Could it be because when I cut you off I barely missed?

I’m no less than gifted at learning by observing patterns
From experience I know that I should listen to your concerns
And not respond by saying “blah blah blah” (last time you threatened to feed me your parents’ urns).
(And the time before that I learned just how hot hot chocolate really is … fyi, it really, really burns.)

Yes, my supreme intellect is something to be marveled
But please, resist temptation, I hate being ogled.

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De Jour of the Week (12/27/09)

12/27/09

I read this to my mom and she said “that’s scary.” And I said, “why’s that scary?” (I was going for funny, not fear.) Her response ended up making her “that’s scary” statement make SOME sense – but I honestly can’t remember it. Besides, who doesn’t love a good mystery?

Please Don’t Contradict Me When I’m so Clearly Wrong

Please don’t contradict me when I’m so clearly wrong
Just nod your head, say ‘mmhmm’, and play along

I’ve had a long day and I’ve thrown logic out the window
And if I say I want ice cream for dinner you say ‘let’s go’

I’ve mixed this up with that other thing
Don’t point out my error while smiling, grinning, smirking

You know darn well what I meant
Don’t point out the facts, your time could be much better spent

But don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m wrong often
I’m not, this is a hypothetical poem for that situation that’s if/when

In fact, now that I start to think about it – you’re wrong!
Who is so dumb as to not know by now to play along?
Sure, yes, I’m so clearly wrong
But you could’ve, should’ve, WILL HAVE TO learn to play along

Why aren’t you nodding your head and playing along?
CLEARLY I am once again spewing out falsehoods, fuzzy logic and all other things wrong

You’re smart at work, you’re smart at home – but maybe a little too smart
One plus one can equal three if I want it to, I know it in my heart

You remember that time I came home fuming and said ‘my boss is a jerk’?
And you said ‘well dear, last week you said your boss is the best part of your work?’
I mean really, honestly, your obliviousness was cute when it was a quirk
But if you don’t get with the program I’ll drop the q-u and it’ll just be an irk

Ok fine … I admit it … I’m sommmmmmmetimes wrong
And … I’d appreciate it if you could play along

I know your knowledge and corrections I should probably embrace
But honestly, I’d rather punch you in the face

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Shalom to Christmas

I submitted this poem for a contest with the Arizona Republic. The winning story (they said story, I and a few others said forget your story – we’re doing poems) was printed in today’s paper. I didn’t think my poem was all that good, but I couldn’t think of something I really liked. But maybe you’ll enjoy it more than I do.

Also, this is just so funny/cool to me. The neighbor was having yard work done. The guy doing the yard work? The Mayor of a nearby town, Eloy. How cool small-town kind of thing is that?! Seriously, he does the yard work alongside a few other guys … not some chump raking in the dough and managing. Anyway, Merry Christmas Folks!


Shalom to Christmas!

Christmas is tomorrow, which is very exciting
The good company, good food, good will and over-the-top (his electric
bill must be insane) good lighting.

But let’s not forget our Jewish friends, who just celebrated Hanukah –
Did you know it’s pronounced the same, but also spelled Chanukah?

And so, in the spirit of Christmas (you can define that as you will)
I’m writing this to teach you some Yiddish (I’m sure this is a joy for
you, a thrill).

Why do I think I’m the one to inform ya?
Well, it’s my moxy, my guts, my chutzpah!

Before you groan and roll your eyes and say,
“Who is this guy? I mean really, oy vey!”

Let me say I know a bisl about this
Which is a little, so it’s nothing to dismiss.

If you don’t own a Torah, then gather round, goyim
And read this (slant-rhyming at times) educational poyim.

This poem is somewhat long, so grab a little snack,
You can nosh on that food while this educational poem you attack.

(And I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll say it in parenthesis,
But you need to speak up for your dear bubbe, let grandma hear this with ease.)

Is your uncle telling that same story? What a meshugener.
He’s crazy!, he’s loony!, he’s nuts!, he’s, oh no, sitting by you for dinner.

Look at that loot under the tree, tomorrow it’ll fill you with pep
That is, until you travel home, when it’ll become just stuff for you to shlep

You can smell that honey-glazed ham, I think it’s about done –
Which is kosher for you, but not for everyone.

Just make sure whoever takes it out of the oven isn’t a shlemiel
They’d probably drop it, and then there goes the meal.

Oh, that’s cute – someone take a picture of grandpa with the grandkids
by the tree,
Yes, fine, I’m getting emotional, at Christmas I’m allowed to be shmaltzy.

Merry Christmas to you, and yours, and Mazel Tov in the New Year
You’ll need the luck to keep those resolutions (you’ll lose how much
weight?, get real).

Take in the scene around you, you’ll soon miss this
Let me say shalom to you and yours, and even shalom to Christmas.

(It’s a good thing this poem is done, the kids are all kvetching –
Which is a universal thing, yes you got it, they’re complaining.)

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