The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Posts tagged ‘rhyme’

The Egregious Eyelash

Oh of all things evil and unholy
Why did this have to happen to me …
Someone wasn’t satisfied with their home
They decided, with mischief, to roam

“Ugh!, why is their an eyelash in my breakfast!”
I stare at my cereal, betrayed, disgruntled at this mess
My body and food have colluded and crossed me
The egregious eyelash, drowning, laughs mockingly

But ah my foes, and oh my friends
That’s not where this story ends
You and I both know there is a worse crime
That makes the eyelash absolute slime

Your eyeball is a sea of calm and tranquility
You look on this beautiful world lovingly
And then MY GOD – WHAT – ACK – you internally yelp
You begin some facial acrobatics (like that’ll help)

One eye closed you make for the bathroom mirror
You look and the culprit couldn’t be clearer
Oh, of course!, it’s you!, you delinquent, hateful thing!
You decide it feels best if you stand there squinting

You gently pull your eyelid down – doesn’t work
You look left, down, right – you’re going berserk
You yawn to force tears, maybe you’ll send the problem flying
Instead you’re alone in the bathroom, awkwardly crying

Eventually the fiend leaves and your life can resume
Your outlook changes, gone is any hint of gloom
From such agony to sweet relief so quickly
I hate you eyelash, but I’ll admit, your departure was lovely

Eyelashes, you serve a purpose, or so I’ve been told
But frankly I am finding your antics a little old
You are abominable and I wish we were through
But I’ll admit, I’d look kind of weird without you

Crappy College Poetry – “Reaction”

In college I wrote a number of poems that were dumb funny (hey, I’m consistent in my approach). With a few I actually tried to be sweet, like to woo my then-girlfriend. I know I’m not a good poet, but I enjoy writing these little things. And I found this self-hating one funny. This one is called “Reaction” and it was a poem about my then-girlfriends reaction to all the bad poetry coming her way.

If I had to guess, this poem was probably written to get her to say she did like my poetry.


I’m sick, sick, sick of your “poetry”

Great. Another five year old’s rhyme, written for me.


Why do boyfriends think they’re unique?

Bad poems by a math guy? You made my week.


Do me a favor, please, take your time.

It’s not necessarily good if you make it rhyme.


Haven’t you noticed the hints when you read to me?

Big yawns, my staring at the clock, longingly!?


It’s not just boredom, it’s even my health

My eyes have rolled so much I’m stuck looking at myself.


The first time it was sweet

But now, my dear, notice my exit on fleet feet.

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