When I spotted a six-legged deer,
I admit that I started to fear
I was titched in the head,
Till the deer calmly said,
“Relax, man, there’s two of us here.”
–photo by me
Tag: humor
paradise lost again
if i should leave
to live on mars
i’d see the earth
among the stars
and wonder why
we foolish men
have passed up
paradise–again
–photo not by me lol (pinterest)
bite
there’s a little
frosted cake
in the middle
of the lake
and i’m wishing
for a bite
while i’m fishing
at the site
–photo by me
Me, Milli, and I
Milli and I
Are subjects when
We’re first
In line, you see,
But then again
We’re objects when
The ending’s
Her and me.
–Photo by my son, Aaron
inchworm
i like to make
things out of wood
i never really
thought i could
but i have help
my inchworm friend
who carries out
the measuring end
he scoots along
then parks his butt
to show me where
to make my cut
but he’ll become
a moth someday
he’ll feel his oats
and fly away
and on that day
he does escape
i’ll have to buy
a measuring tape
–photo by me
High Noon
In the middle of our supper,
The night fell with a thud,
Splattering gravy everywhere.
Smokey licked most of it up,
But the damage was done,
And it stayed dark all night.
Then, at breakfast, the day
Suddenly broke overhead,
And our corn flakes went
Flying in every direction.
Again, Smokey cleaned it up,
But the damage was done,
And the day stayed broken.
For lunch, we went out to
The pasture to eat more of
The mushrooms we’d found
There a few days before.
Suddenly, Smokey pointed
Up at the sun, and yelled,
“It’s high noon! Hit the deck!”
But the damage was done
And we stayed high all day.
Limerick 9
I thought that I knew what now meant,
Till I used it to date an event;
Now my lingering friends
Claim that now never ends
But the now that I meant came and went!
bigfoot (cinquain)
bigfoot
monstrous, hair-raising
jumping, stomping, roaring
i’ve seen actual footage
truck
Cold-hearted Wind
A bold, cold-hearted wind
Slipped discreetly into town;
He was out to look for victims,
And he fast came swooping down,
But he ran into a snowdrift,
So curvaceous and fair,
That he caught her in his icy grip
And threw her in the air.
And ’round and ’round they whirled
In the closest kind of dance;
He had swept her off her feet
With his whirl-wind romance.
She hoped he’d never let her go,
She really thought he’d stay–
‘Til he dumped her on a rooftop,
Blew her off, and flew away.
–Getty Images
They Say
Now they say that
There’s no rhyme for silver,
And they say that
There’s no rhyme for orange,
But I’ve petted
A bleating young chilver,
And in high school
I studied a sporange.
So they say that
What is often isn’t,
And they say that
What isn’t often is,
So I guess that
What isn’t isn’t isn’t,
And what is isn’t
Is isn’t is.
michaeljordahl 