THE MUMMY’S CURSE

 

 

Of all the frights I’ve had in life

There’s none unnerved me worse

Than that dreadful night of terror

That I heard the mummy’s curse

 

While in the Pharaoh’s pyramid

With only candlelight

I happened on an ancient scroll

Wrapped in a bundle tight

 

Then I read with trepidation

Its hieroglyphic verse:

“Beware, O foul defiler, now

You’ll hear the mummy’s curse!”

 

Then from a stone sarcophagus

Against a darkened wall

Emerged a fearsome mummy

Who stood immensely tall

 

Wrapped head to toe in linen

Hate blazing from its eyes

It stalked me like a tiger

As I whimpered wretched cries

 

It backed me to a corner

Then things went from bad to worse

As to my utter horror

I heard the mummy curse

 

“You mother-bleeping robber

You thieving sack of bleep

How dare disturb my Pharaoh

In his everlasting sleep”

 

“Be gone you bleeping infidel

And mark my words with dread

If you show your worthless bleep again

And I’ll crush you bleeping head!”

 

Then to its stone sarcophagus

It shuffled in reverse

No, I’ll not soon forget the night

I heard the mummy curse!

The Wart On Jenny’s Nose

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The female form is glorified in written word and song

From gently curving bosoms to legs so lithe and long

Yet, of all the charms appealing from tresses down to toes

There’s none that strike my fancy like the wart on Jenny’s nose

 

Resting on the very tip for all the world to see

It runs from brown to purple and is textured like a pea

Perched upon the precipice as if about to fall

It makes her look quite like a seal who’s balancing a ball

 

She doesn’t try to hide it and she won’t have it removed

She says it makes her special and I think her point’s been proved

It whispers not of vanity, but screams of depth within

Perfection’s not a virtue, nor is a flaw a sin

 

If beauty really rests within each beholder’s eye

Then we needn’t all appear the same and shouldn’t even try

True beauty’s point and counterpoint…thorns enhance the rose

And nothing’s as beguiling as the wart on Jenny’s nose

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This poem is linked to One Stop Poetry.

Blue Lady Blues

This post is in response to MagpieTales prompt #67 which is the image above.

x

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I’m through with on-line dating

It always ends a mess

I can’t believe I wasted

Ninety dollars on this dress

His profile: Young and handsome

But he turns out old and fat

His clothes are so last century

Dude, please lose the hat

He takes me to a sports bar

To watch football on the tube

Then he brings a friend along

Can you believe this rube?

The loser with that awful lute

Is really bugging me

Strum the freaking strings, you creep

And not my freaking knee

I’ll grit my teeth and muddle through

Nothing rude or brash

But first thing in the morning

The computer’s in the trash!

x

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A Jog In The Rain

In response to Lot’s of Laughter prompt “Rain.”

 

There once was a jogger named Jane

Who ran in the buff in the rain

“The more that it trickles

The more that it tickles

And the gentlemen rarely complain”

A Life Gone Sour

Magpie Tales posts a weekly prompt to stimulate the creative process.  Check it out…it’s fun.  Anyway, the photo above is this week’s prompt.  Here’s is my take on it.

I came upon a lemon

That lay bleeding in the sun

“I’ve lost my zest for living

Stick a fork in me…I’m done”

Dangerous Ducks

I wonder where the ducks go

When the sun goes down at night

Its quack and waddle all day long

While plainly in our sight

 

They paddle gaily ’round the pond

While always in our view

As if they need an alibi

For what they plan to do

 

But when it’s dark they disappear

And who knows where they go

I’m sure they must be somewhere

Ah, but where I’d like to know

 

We know that rabbits burrow

And the wrens head to their nest

But where the ducks go still remains

A mystery at best

 

Do they check into a cheap motel

And play the TV loud?

Or put on leather jackets

And run with a rowdy crowd?

 

Do they smoke and drink and party

And hang in sleazy bars?

Or terrorize their neighbors

Stealing hubcaps off of cars?

 

Go on and laugh, if you see fit

That’s certainly your right

It is, that is, if you know where

The ducks go every night!

This poem is linked to One Shot Wednesday at One Stop Poetry and Jingle Poetry and Purple Tree House

War of Words

Sometimes, it’s hard to keep the peace among the elements in a line.

My verb and object disagreed

It was a heated fight

I tried my best to mediate

But couldn’t make it right

The harshest struggles in a line

Are often intramural

The verb, you see, was singular

The object being plural

And so I sought an adjective

To help diffuse the fray

“I modify, not mollify”

Was all it had to say

This poem linked to Poets United.

ONE OF MY FAVORITES

First Fig

My candle burns at both ends;

It will not last the night;

But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—

It gives a lovely light.

…Edna St. Vincent Millay

I really like this. It communicates beautifully with an economy of words. I have seen it criticized as “not scanning.” I don’t care. You?

THE RHYMER’S RETORT

Here’s my take on the burning issue of our time… to rhyme or not to rhyme.

 

The literati’s basic primer:

Hate the rhyme and loathe the rhymer

To them there’s really nothing worse

Than metered, rhyming, structured verse

Doggerel is what they shout

The rhymer’s work is all about

A vulgar form that just brings joy

To simple, unwashed hoi polloi

But gladly we endure their scorn

Their condescension lightly borne

Let them mock and scoff and shun

To hell with art, we’re having fun!

 

From “The Rhymer’s Cafe” available at http://www.blurb.com

To Rhyme or Not to Rhyme (Was that the question?)

I don’t have anything against free verse.  I get that fewer constraints allow for greater expression.  But to me, one of the appeals of writing metered, rhyming verse is the challenge of overcoming those very constraints.  It’s like a puzzle in search of a solution. To advance the idea, you have to solve the meter and the rhyme and do so in way that doesn’t cause the reader to wince too badly.  If the solution is elegant, then the results are very satisfying.  If it’s inelegant, well, then it’s doggerel.