i found god ! i found
god ! i found god ! ‘doggone !’ god
said , ‘ i wasn’t lost ! ‘
.
haiku
Category Archives: It’s a joke!
tag team
everyone gets to
go crazy in a marriage
but you must take turns!
.
haiku
but end
sorry to end this
apology poem so
very abruptly but
.
not quite a haiku
indignant breakfast
me wus , i profess, perfectly happy
as bread
but instead me gets sliced and stuffed
under a red hot grill til i’m toast!
.
wusn’t it ‘nuff me got pummeled ‘n punched
when me wus just a bit of dough
— me didn’t need that!
and unceremoniously shoved in an oven
— me actually loved that!
i rise under torture a beaut!
but toast?!
an insult
even if some like it hot, up to a point, me don’t
aaargh, nearly burnt
meeeeee!
ahhhhh, smooth sooth meeee
with butter and jam
wham!
what’s this…?
teeth! struth!
i can’t believe it!
what new hell is……
.
not a haiku
.
NaPoWriMo day 20 prompt
write a poem that anthropomorphizes a kind of food. It could be a favorite food of yours, or maybe one you feel conflicted about. I feel conflicted about Black Forest Cake, for example. It always looks so pretty in a bakery window, and I want to like the combination of cherries and chocolate . . . but I don’t. But how does the cake feel about it?
the art of malicious
mockery black-eyed
black-pie-packed hot with juices
too bitter to sup
.
haiku
light & funny ( don’t fall down !)
you could fall up, dear
unless choosing to obey
law
of gravity
.
haiku
The Fowl and the Bully-rat
NaPoWriMo day 26
I.
The Foul and the Bully-rat were put out to sea
On a manky-scant wee boat
They were thrown some spitballs, catcalls tar and feathers for good measure
Wrapped up in a cautionary note
.
The Fowl growled up to the stars above
With a sound like a small chainsaw
You, Bully-rat, you fat hunk of shite
Gimme room in this boat, oar,
I swear
I swear
I’ll haul your arse out!
.
II
Said Bully to Fowl, you evil great bleep
How charmingly sweet you bleat!
We’re in this together, you’d better not blether
Oar, I’ll cut your throat while you sleep!
III
They floated this way for a year and a day
To the land where the spliff trees grew
And there in the woods, a beautiful woman stood
They puffed up their chests and and jousted their jests
All to impress their importance upon an isolated female
Soon to be in their thrall. What a boon!
But she saw straight away they were
Up to no good
Up to no good
Though they begged so sweetly for fun and for food.
.
They warbled, aw, darlin’ It’s probably you’re also hungry for a fine feast of a man , we’re a bit wobbly but
honey girl, would you give us a whirl as a nibble
Supply us some vitals and a sniff of your spliffs, we’ll all bob along well, we can tell
But the woman was wise to all of their lies
She’s smelt them coming for miles and miles
So, she called on the conch to the other girls of her tribe, and they had them split-toasted in a flash, for their ladies lunch.
And hand in hand they danced
By the light of the moon
But the light of the moon
Full-bellied and stoned, they pranced
They licked the fat from their fingers and runcible spoons be damned!
.
btw April 26, 2021
parody picked from the teeth of the Owl and The Pussy-cat, loosely and unabashed.
And now for our (optional) prompt. Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a parody. Besides being fun, writing parodies can be a great way to hone your poetic skills – particularly your sense of rhyme and sound, as you try to mimic the form of an existing poem while changing the content. Just find a poem – or a song – that has always annoyed you, and write an altered, silly version of it. Or, alternatively, find a poem with a very particular rhyme scheme or form, and use that scheme/form as the basis for a poem that mocks something else.
If you’d like to get some inspiration, you might consider some of the poems that Lewis Carroll included in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, which parody the moralistic verse of Isaac Watts. For example, “The Crocodile” is a send-up of Watts’ “How Doth the Little Busy Bee,” while “Tis the Voice of the Lobster” is a parody of Watts’ poem “The Sluggard.” Or, for a briefer and more whimsical poem, consider “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Bat,” which is a parody of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”
I
The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
“O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!”
II
Pussy said to the Owl, “You elegant fowl!
How charmingly sweet you sing!
O let us be married! too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?”
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Bong-Tree grows
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.
III
“Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?” Said the Piggy, “I will.”
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.
team dad
his favourite sport
was one-fingered
in front of the telly
when no-one was watching
it was thought
the private sport
of extracting dried snot
from his double-barrelled slot
for rolling into bullets
to flick into the carpet
was after-dinner entertainment
.
enough!
.
i catch myself in the intimate act
in odd moments discreetly
plumping for ugly pearls
to tuck into tissue paper
for later
.
gotta laugh!
.
.
not a haiku
.
ps. i may or may not have picked this up from my dad…..
.
btw april 15 2021
think about a small habit you picked up from one of your parents, and then to write a piece that explores an early memory of your parent engaged in that habit, before shifting into writing about yourself engaging in the same habit.
what does this mean?
i’ll offer you bouquets
of butter&daisycups
giggling childishness
.
haiku
p.s
Victorian meanings:-
Buttercups = childishness
Daisies = innocence
Our optional prompt for the day is based on the concept of the language of flowers. Have you ever heard, for example, that yellow roses stand for friendship, white roses for innocence, and red roses for love? Well, there are as many potential meanings for flowers as there are flowers. The Victorians were particularly ga-ga for giving each other bouquets that were essentially decoder-rings of meaning. For today, I challenge you to write a poem in which one or more flowers take on specific meanings.
handkerchief
isolation brings
out the mischief in me
playing with myself
.
haiku
P.s Just for fun!
barbaraturneywielandpoetess 