The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Posts tagged ‘Poem’

To My Girl, With Adoration (and Corrections)

It’s hard to believe, seven years ago was our first date
(Not to be nit-picky, but it was actually eight)
I bought you dinner, and you bought us ice cream for dessert
(It was actually some frozen yogurt)

We went on a walk, enjoying the beautiful weather
(It was so cold I had to borrow your sweater)
You looked so cute in that flower-print dress
(Is your memory under some form of duress?)

You have the most beautiful blueish-green eyes I’ve ever seen
(Define what you mean by ‘blueish-green’?)
I hope our daughter has your beautiful brown locks
(It’s light chestnut! … Not to get on my color-wheel soapbox)

You always smell like lilacs, lavender or Ungaro
(You’re just saying the fancy smell-words you know)
I made you this CD, it has our old song
(It’ll be fun to see how you got that one wrong)

I just want you to know how much you mean to me
(I like you and your bad memory)
Even as I get older and my mind starts to fade
(I will be your memory maid)
I’ll always know how much you mean to me

The Lonely Adventurers

Little boys see danger
Where there is only a tree
Little boys see adventure
While escaping responsibility

Little boys grow up and make for great adventurers
But, have you ever stopped to wonder,
When they’re out shaking hands with death
If, when their body comes back, their heart’s all asunder

From Portugal to India, you opened the world, but,
Did you call out for your mama?
When on your death-bed with malaria,
Oh, explorer-great, Vasco de Gama?

You can circumnavigate with the best, Ferdinand Magellan
You sail with seemingly no hint of fear
But you couldn’t circumnavigate your need for a hug
As you died, pierced, by a bamboo spear

Here, fishy, fishy!, heeeere, fishy, fishy, fishy!
Where did you go, Jacques Cousteau?
And where are you now, exploring still?
Or are you cuddled up with a throw pillow?

Aging is terrible, said the fountain of youth, laughing
A quest to find it was the aim of Juan Ponce de Leon
He failed, dying of an arrow wound, and reconnecting with his youth:
The fetal position is great for when you’re poisoned and alone

Adventurers embrace risks and danger
They will go down in history’s annals
Often so close to their goals …
They only lacked stuffed animals

So … I really like this idea, but I don’t like this poem much. I’m throwing it out there with the best of intentions to re-write it at a future date. Really, being an explorer would be craaaaazy scary. And these guys (except Cousteau, the only modern one in this bunch) kept dying in foreign lands! (Not for no reason, they were often taking “unclaimed’ lands and killing or converting as they saw fit.)

Anywho, it’s “funny” (maybe interesting is a better word) to think of explorers dying, sad and lonely, in far-away places after living an incredibly tough-guy, amazing life.

Also I don’t like the concluding verse … But I chose to watch the basketball game rather than think about it. GO LOUISVILLE!

An Ode to Old Guys at the Gym

Entering the gym locker room and oh Lord, here we go,
An older gentleman, naked, who I unfortunately now “know”

Old guys in locker rooms, what’s the deal?
With aging muscles showing the strength of veal

While your confidence could be considered wonderful
It doesn’t go well with your breasts, which are plentiful

There seems to be a natural correlation
The less appealing, the longer you take to change without hint of humiliation

There is always the same set of three –
I call them the croissant club, because they’re doughy and pasty

What’s your purpose? What cause do you serve?
What evil have I done to make this what I deserve?

I set down my clothes and begin to change quickly
When a naked man carrying his towel sits next to me

Why, naked man, don’t you wear your towel?
Why can’t you notice my gag-reflex-slash-scowl?

Maybe it’s my WASP upbringing and I’m a prude
But your hairy body is making me come unglued

Taking care not to have my bare feet touch the floor
I keep my head straight and stare at my locker door

Finished, I make for the exit as quick as can be
Head bowed as though I’m praying dutifully

And again, I feel anger and sadness flow
As a naked man cuts me off … going … so … slow

Finally! I’m out the door and ready to work out!
…The images of the locker room croissant club hang about

In a flash (no pun intended), their anti-underwear-wearing purpose is clear
They’re here to motivate, to inspire, to frighten, all to get you in gear

So come on, inspirers and inspirees, let’s all head to the gym!
But I’m going to change at home so I won’t have to see any of them

Non Traditional Valentines Day Poems

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I haven’t been taking my meds
The government watches everything you do

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Today is Thursday
We’re all going to die alone

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
We never just talk anymore
What. The. Hell.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Not to be creepy or anything
But I watch you while you’re sleeping

Working on My Communication

In light of her telling me
(Not so succinctly,
I might add ironically)
That communication is to me what the heel is to Achille

I want to compliment her with words that will be like flowers
Yes, I’ll unleash my verbal super powers
(I could pontificate for hours and hours)

It is imponderable
How can you pack a baleful
Of kindness in that skull
AND be a heaven-sent eyeful.
It’s almost intolerable
How you can be so beautiful
And conversationally wonderful.

Yes, my darling, my sweet, I should compliment you more often
So that your look, in that cute way, will soften
And you will stop imagining me in my coffin

Just answer me this question
(Which is a not-so-subtle suggestion)
If I’m the one working on my communication
(In an attempt to avoid future condemnation)

How many more times could I have said I wanted to watch this game?
So please … love muffin … move out of the frame.

To the Fans of the Mayans

Meteors are crashing down

Destruction rains all around

Dinosaurs have re-inhabited the Earth

They are crushing people with smirks and mirth

Five hundred tornadoes suddenly appeared

But I don’t find any of this weird

Godzilla is riding a super-sized dragon

Throwing presents from his TNT-filled wagon

An earthquake has swallowed Hawaii

Ignorant dolts are screaming ‘why, oh why!’

I don’t mean to sound crass or mean

But all I’m feeling is this dopamine

You see, when you are proven right

A shot of dopamine is there for your delight

I KNEW the Mayans had it figured out

I knew it with all my heart, without a doubt

So you see … oh crap, a foul-tempered liger

Excuse me while I run away with my righteous swagger

Attn: Ellen (12/19/12)


Ellen DeGeneres Christmas poem

Back (apologies for my handwriting!)

Ellen DeGeneres Christmas poem

The text of the postcard is

Dear Ellen,

It’s crunch time for presents,
That one person is left.
Though crowds are full of tyrants …
You can’t leave that one bereft.

(And pst, what’s with that one?
The one you can never figure out,
Leaving your to-do list undone
That non-gift-inspiring lout.)

You head out to a nearby store
Seeking gift idea motivation
Oh, look, there’s something so-and-so would adore!
But you’re set there, you think with aggravation.

Then you see a weirdly realistic looking cat shaped soap dispenser
If it can’t be perfect – here’s a simple rule – go for tacky
(The soap comes out of an orifice not associated with a cleanser)
From me to you, I hope your holidays are delightfully wacky!


Why am I doing this?

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