33-Word Trifecta Writing Challenge: Shades of Clayton

Welcome Dear Readers!  This weekend’s 33-word Trifecta Writing Challenge is as follows:  Give us a thirty-three word piece that has a color in it. Use the color to describe anything you like, or use anything you like to describe your color, but keep it creative and keep it short. 

I chose this colorful picture of my grandson, Clayton, to write about today.

colors!

Shades of Clayton

Propeller’s blue, steering’s green

With shades of Mickey in-between

Here’s a fellow, who likes yellow

A mellow little yellow fellow

But his pants this poem will sabotage

Cause there ain’t no color camouflage

Friday Fictioneers: Fly Like a Butterfly, Sting Like a Bee

Welcome Dear Readers!  My philosophy of life can be summed up by Lou Grant from the old Mary Tyler Moore show when he said, “You’re born, you die and everything in between is filler.” 

And I can’t think of a more fun “filler” than writing a hundred words inspired by  Friday Fictioneers  picture prompt hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields at Addicted to Purple.

This week’s picture is provided by Douglas M. McIlroy over at Ironwoodwind.

maui-from-mauna-kea

Fly like a Butterfly, Sting Like a Bee  

 If I had an apparatus

To keep me in the misty stratus

If I could hang out in the air

With the billowy things that live up there

 I think, at first, it would be fun

I’d be best friends with everyone

I’d say I like you!  Yes I do!

You are my best friends, brave and true

But then before my very eyes

You’d change into some apple pies

You’d switch it up

 (You’d be so wiley)

You’re Cher! . . .  No wait! . . . Charles Nelson Riley?

 Who could keep up? Who could cope?

I’d become Muhammad’s rope a dope

* * * 

Until next time . . . I love you

An Ode to Al Gore

An Ode To Al

al-gore

Oh dear Al Gore, we love you so

For making up stuff, as you go

You’re so much fun, you’re such a  gas

And of late, a colossal mass!

Al Gore's epitaph

You are The Man of all things global

The recipient of prizes, Nobel

There’s really nothing we can do

To fill your carbon footprint shoe!

Al_Gore thinking

Though the environment’s in such a state

There’s still not too much on your plate!

There’s greenhouse gas, there’s ecosystems

(Well it’s far too numerous to list ’em)

algore_slaphead

Oh dear Al Gore, you always please

When a tear for polar bears you squeeze

And when you apply your concentration

You can actually pronounce “deforestation”!

300px-AlGoreGlobalWarmingTalk_Crop11

Oh dear Al Gore, what would you do

If we weren’t burning fossil fuel

And melting glaciers left and right

To aid you in your noble fight!

al_gore_1

When all is said and done, Dear Al

And you shuffle off to be God’s pal

Those pearly gates you’ll enter yet

For giving us the Internet

al-gore-pray

Until next time . . . I love you

Sally Milkerson Becomes a Good Read

Sally Milkerson Becomes a Good Read

Little Sally Milkerson wanted a tattoo

She asked her mother Wanda

If it was something she could do

Wanda would have answered her

But you see she couldn’t hear

What with all the piercings that were pinning shut her ear

 

So Little Sally Milkerson went and got a pencil

To write her mom a note that said

May I please have a stencil? 

Wanda would have answered her

But her eyelids wouldn’t open

Thanks to all her piercings, in the dark she was agropin’

 

Little Sally Milkerson told her mother not to worry

She’d take the task upon herself

And get tattooed in a hurry

She skipped down to the tattoo parlor

A wad of cash in hand

And gave it to the Tattoo-er — behind the counter, Stan

 

 When Little Sally Milkerson came waltzing through the door

Her mother Wanda’s color drained

She toppled to the floor

A miracle! — It had occurred from somewhere up above her!

For her darling little daughter now

Had Harry Potter on her cover

Humorous Poem Sally Milkerson Linda Vernon Humor
Hey Sally can you turn around so we can see what happens next?

Until Next time  . . . I love you

Me and My Turtle, Jeems

Hello Dear Readers!  This poem goes out to all my blogging friends and their turtles!

Me and My Turtle

I never leave the house it seems

Without my turtle (his name is Jeems)

He reminds me as I go about

To follow my nose (or follow my snout?)

He reminds me in this busy world

To keep it real, to stay unfurled

He says take care when you cross the street

Cause Jeems can talk (it’s really sweet!)

Jeems he likes the pace we go

When we keep it really really slow

I’d say Jeems was the wiser one

But Jeems, he don’t get nothin’ done!

Humorous Poetry Linda Vernon Humor

Until next time . . . I love you

The Weekend Trifecta Writing Challenge: Disaster at the Farmer’s Market

The weekend Trifecta Challenge is as follows:

This weekend we are giving you three variations on a prompt.  We need you to give us 33 words back, and 2 of those words must be either “cheap flights,” “sandwiched in” or “spectacularly clean.”  This weekend, your piece must also be non-fiction (poetry or prose).  And yes, we reserve the right to call your mothers and former lovers to ask for verification on your tales.

Disaster at the Farmer’s Market

Twas my kin

Quite sandwiched in

‘twixt turnips and potatoes

Still alive, he had survived

The horrible tornadoes

I said to Jim (I called him Jim)

 “ Hope you remembered to get tomatoes.”

" uuuhhhhhh . . . ."
“Uh . . . “

This is a true story with the exception of the tornado (it was actually a light breeze from the air-conditioning vent), and we were at Safeway instead of the Farmer’s Market.  But my son, Jim, did remember to get tomatoes . . .  except they were potatoes.

***

Until next time . . . I love you

Limericks Based on Ads from 1953

Hello Dear Readers!  Well another week has rolled more or less away, and as we slide into Friday on this last day of November, we have to ask ourselves what was going on with ads from 1953?  (See how I did that great segue way?  Who says things don’t get done right on Friday.)

Here are some ads from a magazine called Better Living from 1953 that for some reason, my brain, Peanuts, insisted on boiling down into limericks.

img584

There once was a product named Kleenex

That met you half-way when you sneezed next

Little LuLu and Godfrey

Got paid by the wad, see?

To get Father some money for Xanax.

img584 (2)

When poor fifties Mom must relax

After featherdust-wacking does tax

She chews Beechnut Gum

But it makes her feel glum

What she needed was Father’s Xan-ax!

img585

There once was a little food dude

Who claimed Wilson’s B-V was a food

It subtracted from rents

Just one point five cents

But to like it, you had to be stewed.

img586

There once was a man who wore lipstick

People thought him the consummate dipstick

He drank coffee that sounded

Like a law firm compounded

So his wife mixed his cream with some arsenic 

And there you have it, Dear Reader, the first installment and quite possibly the last installment of Limericks Base on Ads from 1953.

Until next time . . . I love you

Limerick Lamentation

Limerick Lamentation

“Don’t get me wrong. I like being tall . . . but not THAT tall.”

There once was a girl named Doreen

Who was as tall as a mutant string bean

Even when kneeling

Her head hit the ceiling

And now both her ears have gangrene

Trifecta Weekend 33-Word Poetry Challenge: Reaching Singularity

This weekend’s Trifecta Writing Challenge is to write a poem in 33 words:

Reaching Singularity

on an elevator
alone
with just yourself
life delayed
on an elevator
alone
with just yourself
plus 14 people — but they’re so quiet it’s like being
on an elevator
alone,
with just yourself

“Maybe this is the alone button.”

Rummaging Around The Poetry Barn

First of all, let me thank El Guapo at Guapola for coming up with the excellent idea for the title of this post.

He was actually just reading my last post about Pottery Barn, wrong, but that doesn’t diminish the fact that El Guapo is a genius and not just because he nominated me for the Versatile Blogger Award!  (Though it is further substantiation.)

BTW, I am planning to write my Versatile Blog Award acceptance post next week once the Eggnog runs dry.  And I would like to officially thank my blogging buddies, GuapolaRunning Naked with Scissors and The Mainland  all of whom were kind enough to nominate this blog for the Versatile Blogger Award and whose blogs I enjoy so much I have to wait until AFTER I drink my coffee before I read them so as not to coffee spray all over my desk.

So without further adieu, allow me to  welcome you to this blog’s unveiling of:

The Poetry Barn

On a Cold Chill Winter’s Day

Off the top of my head

From the depths of my heart

I shoot from the hip when I say

That I love you and know you

Like the back of my hand

On a cold chill winter’s day

I’ve got a leg up on love

My elbows are greased

My eyes are peeled only for you

You skin is as clear

As the nose on my face

So I’m sorry it’s over, we’re through

Until next time . . . I love you

And Merry Christmas! 

Ode to the the Brain Brain

“Eww!”

Ode to the Brain

Oh little brain, we love you so

For thinking up the things we know

From your hemispheres to your thalamuses

You know the times of all the busses

Your skull cap’s skewed so jauntily

You’ve hit a spinal chord with me!

And furthermore, let’s be quite placid

Because of your amino acid

We do not sail this synapse sea

As hairy as a chimpanzee

 

Until next time . . .I love you