Tarry Not Dear Gwendolyn

Horrible Art by Linda Vernon

Tary Not Dear Gwendolyn

Tary not Dear Gwendolyn

In TJ Max or Sears

Your bank account’s in shambles

And your bills are in arrears

 

 

Tary not Dear Gwendolyn

On stationery (lined)

That credit card you just ran through?

It’s sure to be declined.

 

Tary not Dear Gwendolyn

Over bobbles do not fuss

It would serve you well to keep in mind

You can’t afford the bus

* * *

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

33-Word Trifecta Challenge: Etched into a Stone

Hello Dear Readers! This weekend’s 33-word Trifecta Challenge is as follows:

The word lithium comes from the Greek word lithos, which means stone  (http://chemistry.about.com/od/lithium/a/10-Lithium-Facts.htm).  This weekend, we want you to give us a thirty-three response using the word stone as one of your thirty-three words.  You can use any definition of the word that you’d like, but we are specifically looking for serious, well-conceived entries.  This isn’t the weekend for light-hearted posts about the difficulty of posting before the linkz close, and we are not looking for hilarious commentary about your cats (THIS time).  We want something serious and deep from you guys this weekend, because the sun is starting to shine a bit more, and we think we can handle it now.  Take your time with it and give us your very best work.

Etched into a Stone

Carve thy bust

In injudicious stone?

Thou must?

Maketh not

A thing beheld

Upon thy

Wizened throne

The jamboree of C’est la vie

Of destiny unknown

Tis merely thine own hieroglyph

Etched into a stone

LInda Vernon Humor Poetry, Embedded in Stone
http://commons.wikimedia.org

* * *

Until next time . . . I love you

Trying (Yet Again) to Cheer Up Edgar Allan Poe

Hello Dear Readers. As you may recall, from time to time, this blog takes it upon itself to try to cheer up America’s most famous Gloomy Gus, Edgar Allan Poe.

“At midnight, in the month of June, I stand beneath the mystic moon.”

“Uh . . . Edgar, what are you doing outside at midnight?  Don’t you realize it’s 1835 and antibiotics haven’t even been invented yet?  It’s almost like you’re trying to catch cholera. For god’s sakes, Edgar, go home and go to bed!”

“An opiate vapor, dewy, dim, Exhales from out her golden rim.”

“Okay, I hate to be the one to break it to you, Edgar, but the moon doesn’t have a golden rim; plus, I’m pretty sure the moon’s a boy.  I really must insist you put down your pipe now and go in the house.”

“And, softly dripping , drop by drop, Upon the quiet mountain top”

“Now that’s a nice upbeat phrase.  I like it because it’s positive.  Why don’t you tell me another one while I lead you into the house.    I’m just going to take you by the hand!  Yikes your hand is cold!” What do you have ice cubes in your pockets?”

“The rosemary nods upon the grave; the lily lolls upon the wave”

“Sckrrrreeeechk . . . record scratch!  There you go again with the graves. I don’t care if ALL your friends are dead, Ed, sitting around the graveyard moping 24/7  is just going to make things worse.  Oh, and are you sure lolls is a word?  You might want to double check it with your friend, Daniel Webster — if he’s still alive, that is. Ha ha.  No! No! Edgar he is still alive I was just kidding.  It was a joke Edgar!”

“All beauty sleeps!- and lo! where lies; Irene, and with her Destinies”

“Irene? What happened to the Lenore your raven was always flapping his beak about?  Oh, so now that you’re a big fancy poet you just cast Lenore aside for Irene?  Lenore who stuck by you when you were a nobody?  And now that you’re a big shot writer you just cast her aside for some floozy named Irene?”

“The Lady sleeps!  Oh, may her sleep, which is enduring so be deep!”

“Hey lookee here, Edgar!  I bet you’ve never seen this before?  It’s called duct tape, and I’m just going to stick it over your mouth like so!  There now that’s better.  That’s much, much better!”

* * *

Until next time . . . I love you

Poetry Barn: An Ode to My Annoying Brain, Peanuts

Well my brain, Peanuts, was really annoying this morning. (Peanuts being the nickname my brain insisted on giving itself.)  Peanuts sometimes runs amok and when that happens, all I can do is stand by and watch helplessly.

This morning Peanuts was writing fast and furiously!  Peanuts was so pleased about what was materializing on the computer screen that Peanuts was feeling confident to the point of being cocky.  This is a dangerous state of mind.  Last time Peanuts got like this it cost me and Peanuts $300.

That’s because Peanuts said we could  go 59 when the speed limit was 35.  Peanuts rationalized this decision by explaining that Peanuts didn’t see no cops so there ain’t no cops. Sometimes Peanuts insists on talking with a cheesey, fakey made up dialect. (I always have to roll my eyes.)

Anyway, sure enough  Peanuts spent all morning typing up a post that Peanuts had to stop and laugh at every five minutes.  It was really kind of nauseating how cute Peanuts thought it was being.

So it really served Peanuts right when Peanuts went to hit SAVE DRAFT and the little donut started spinning and spinning and spinning and then the Wordpress screen disappeared altogether!  Peanuts panicked and flailed around clicking buttons and icons like a regular banshee but to no avail.  The post was gone entirely.

I took it rather well, but Peanuts threw a big, huge, hissy fit by pounding fists on  the desk, and shouting the F word, then shouting the S word and then went back to shouting the F word.

Of course, this display of immaturity didn’t do Peanuts one bit of good.  I told Peanuts that in so many words, but Peanuts wasn’t listening.

So instead of posting the hilarious post that Peanuts lost us thanks to cockiness, Peanuts and I will rerun this poem entitled Ode to Peanuts.  It’s really called Ode to the Brain, but Peanuts thinks it’s about Peanuts so we’ll just let Peanuts keep on thinking that:

ODE TO My Brain Peanuts

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 buses

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,

You do not sail this synapse sea

As hairy as a chimpanzee

That ought to shut Peanuts up for a while!

Until next time . . . I love you