One fine day, as hot as Hades,
Six respectable old ladies
Decided they would take a trip
Before the winter chill could nip.
They drove out to the countryside
With rolling hills and river wide.
The place was quiet, full of charm,
But, oh dear me, the weather warm.
Gran became a trifle naughty
Heat made her a little potty
Decided she would take a chance
You only have one life to dance.
Removing both her diamond rings
She cast off all her under things
And dived into the swimming hole
Then with a flash, the show she stole.
This lady in her autumn years
Was young at heart, for her, three cheers.
The other ladies’ eyes, they popped.
While with their hankies, brows they mopped.
Then one declared, ‘It looks so cool.’
And all at once, a river full
Of naked ladies having fun
Beneath the hot and blazing sun.
Copyright © Margaret Foster | Year Posted 2011
Let’s just take the day off and maybe call in sick,
Just one day away from work I think will do the trick.
We could start by sleeping late then lay around in bed,
Sharing conversation or something else instead.
Then it’s off to the diner to have some eggs and cakes,
While we read the morning paper, however long it takes.
We’ll wander around the bookstore for as long as we feel,
Pawing through the discount books looking for a deal.
Then let’s pick up the dog and take him to the park,
No one else will be around so we can let him bark.
We can share our hopes and dreams and far off distant plans,
All the while we walk the path while holding each other’s hands.
The leaves have changed their color it’s a perfect autumn day,
If we’d waited one more week the color would have faded away.
Then back home and I’ll light a flame in the fireplace,
We try to read until we fall asleep in the warmth of its embrace.
There’s a purple sky outside the window when we finally awake,
You make us salads and baked potatoes while I grill us up a steak.
We can watch an old movie wondering if Cary Grant will read the letter,
While all the while I’m hoping that by tomorrow, we won’t be any better.
Copyright © Tony Lane | Year Posted 2011
Long miles of tedious journey,
Missing my darling honey.
Travelling impatiently, spend thousands of
Hope god will bless me with ma lucky soul
at this season.
Equatorial island exploring its amazed
beauty, glittering with immersed grasses.
Wrapped by queens necklaced small lake
aside, at the outskirts of dalhousie.
My heart dwelled into its god gifted
When the night lime lighted,
Millions of stars scattered around
As if its was a wondering boon.
Lucky enough for landing with my next
Eagerly waiting for my heart chaser,
Girl passed near by, few seconds later.
Flaming beauty mould my soul.
Topped with innocence, ready for my
Her chic appearance,
Her innocent appeal.
Strucking heart raised with high beats..
Awaited for our romantic date in ma
Frequency of our nature matched.
Stolen Eyes of each other were catched.
Strings of our heart whistled
Everything had happened miraclelously.
I rebelled the three precious words of
Accepting my red rose, She blushed.
At event of recreation, campfire were
Nobody around us, private moments
between we two spotlighted.
Playing guitar, she sinked with every beat,
That's the coincidence our eyes again
Hand in hand danced with the soothing
Sparkling smile on her face beamed.
Getting closer to her, because of her
Expecting the light around us to be dim.
The romantic moment again came,
Flaps of my soul opened for the grand
She looked too pretty in her gold lame
My heart awarded her an order of chivalry.
Don't know who are you, but baby you are
the one, I am in love.
You live in me, You are my love
I feel you in my heart,
You are my world, I just cant stay apart!
Please don't hesitate, please don't lie,
Whatever you feel, my heart can buy!
Angel of life, Its just you.
Completeness in life can't be without you.
Wanna Carry journey happily together.
Tickling nose, Queenly beauty of my white
Hold my senses, its caught by you.
Don't let be just memories, wanna feel
ecstasy of love towards you forever.
Promising to hold your hand throughout
life in this lovely weather.
Will be your shadow, because your pain
will be mine.
Its destiny that our heart clicked a
snapshot of each other's soul.
Stopping by my question, Will you marry
me, my Kindred Soul?
Copyright © Madhavi Sarjare pagare | Year Posted 2013
They danced and they turned and they tumbled
In wind, how it sighed and it grumbled
With force, how it howled in its fury
But still they bore no trace of worry
In cool autumn winds they cavorted
My foot! How they laughed and they sported
They flew through the air just like pheasants
Till set in my excellent presence
“Red Leaf,” quoth I unto the leader
“To fly, there is nothing more neater
But weren’t you the least bit affrighted
As thus from the breeze you alighted?”
“Dear sir,” quoth the leaf as he flitted
“To fear, for a leaf ain’t permitted
We’re taught from a bud in the cradle
That even a crash isn’t fatal.”
“I say,” quoth I unto the yellow
“You seem to be such a neat fellow
I wonder how likes you this sporting
Or if you a damsel are courting?”
Quoth he, “All this sporting is splendid
The days of my courting are ended
My lover has flown to the northward
While I am constrained to fly southward.”
Before one more word could be spoken
The peace of that moment was broken
Away flew those leaves o’er the treeses
Borne by the chill autumn breezes
October 25, 2012.
For the contest, Up in the Autumn Air. Second place.
Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2012
Tiny goblins run around
Some in mother's dressing gown.
Witches cackle with delight
Was there ever such a night,
In this hallowed little town.
Copyright © Richard Breese | Year Posted 2015
Shall I compare thee to an Autumn day?
Thou art more windy in the afternoon.
Old leaves of gold October throws away
Can never match your bottom's lively tune.
The scents of fruits are sweet at harvest time,
While scent of you can make a strong man cry.
Much beer and curry serve to fuel your crime
For saving scent of harvest I must sigh.
Each year the sweetness fades to winter rain,
When mud and grit are mixed with diesel fumes,
Your pungent stench appears whene'er you strain
Eternally we know your rank perfumes.
So long as beans are served and you still live,
You'll have a complex mix of scents to give.
Copyright © Jeff Green | Year Posted 2009
This summer was so crazy with a drought but still where mosquitoes multiplied.
And we’re leaving behind a hurricane that attacked the Midwest from all sides.
The crops were lost as months of over 100-degree temperatures, drove us hard.
They were Months that steadily held us captive within our own house doors.
I was soooo looking forward to Autumn where every thing would step aside.
I was dreaming of cool nights so mellow and days where I could walk my dog.
Yes, where the dogs feet and our shoe bottoms, would not be melting off.
Where leaning over the fence while talking to neighbors could be done.
But then, BOOM, along came Autumn, and I do mean with a capital B-O-O-M!
Our acorn tree decided for the first time in 30 years…to go forth and bloom...
And the gumball tree with its little spikes, doesn’t ever want, to be outdone.
The trees are very old and big at more than three stories high, you know…
I shouldn’t have watered them soooo much during the drought and heat, with glee.
For those cute little acorns are now shooting off the trees at mock ten, I do believe.
They hit the house and ground, then ricochet with a force that makes me grieve.
Dozens come down, at a time, bouncing with speeds even planes can’t achieve.
Umbrellas don’t seem to work as they bounce off the house and patio below…
Lord…help me Jesus… I say, as I dodge back and forth, under the rain below…
My dogs won’t go outside… and even my birds have moved a few yards down…
To a more docile terrain we’re all bound, as we were steadily run, off ground.
Even the squirrels stopped trying to bury them, and have left it all behind, so forlorn.
They're hanging a few doors down as my ground has become, wall-to-wall acorns.
Acorns have hit with so much force, that I’ve had to cover my windows for once.
I no longer sit by my window to write… Yep… Bazinga! Won, with a vengeance...
Once the acorns finally end…the spiky gumballs will be gleefully awaiting, to begin.
I’m looking forward to winter, though I begin to believe it’ll be an unusual clincher.
As I’ve learned to say… You never know when life will send you a… Bazinga!
And that... sometimes Autumn's fruitfullness isn't so mellow after all.
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2012
IF IT’S AUTUMN, CAN WINTER BE FAR BEHIND?
Whose woods these are I’ve no idea
But my little horse sure thinks he’s queer
His house ain’t in the village no more
He promised he wasn’t stopping here.
Between the woods and frozen shore
Live many people rich and poor -
On the darkest evening of the season
They watch at every window, every door.
They think the weather’s dreadful freezin’
But feel that it is almost treason
To not watch woods fill up with snow;
Doing otherwise seems contrary to reason.
Bells a-shake, dark, deep in the snow,
Their heroes murmur sounds so low.
For these people Frost is someone they know:
There’s Jack outside and Robert below.
I simply couldn’t resist a parody of Robert Frost.
Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2011
Mr. Webster defines "impatience" as a dislike for anything causin' delay.
Alas, my paucity of patience I am reminded of each and every day!
'Tis a subject upon which the Lord and I are in constant consultation.
Lord, help me in my quest for more patience is my earnest supplication!
On Sunday morns I squirm in my pew listenin' to the preacher pontificate.
His interminable oration goes on and on - for my football game I'll be late!
Again that very afternoon I lose all patience with my favorite football team!
Their fumblin', stumblin', bumblin' play just makes me want to scream!
I have little patience with slow movin' traffic causin' me to lay upon the horn!
Others extend a finger in response! (As I understand it, that's a sign of scorn)!
I impatiently wait for the leaves to blossom on my trees around the first of May.
In the autumn season, my patience is taxed rakin' those infernal leaves away!
I lose patience with the government always intrudin' in my life,
With their inane and meddlesome schemes that are so very rife!
I'm impatient with folks who babble on and on when a word or two will do,
Or retellin' a story I've heard a dozen times - 'tis a classic case of deja vu!
Forgive me Lord when at times I even become impatient with Thee.
If impatience is a sin, Lord I pray that You'll show mercy unto me!
Help me in my quest to be more patient is my earnest supplication,
But won't You please expedite Thy accomodation is my exhortation!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2010
How I look forward to October the thirty-first each year!
Though the autumn be chilly and the weather a bit drear,
I have the pleasure of meeting strange little imps by the score,
As they visit, lisping "twick or tweat" at my front door!
The door bell rings constantly it seems as I leap to me feet,
Wondering about the wierd characters that I shall meet!
Will it be a devil or an angel or a frightful ghost?
Whoever it might be, I must be a generous host!
Hordes of fairies, cowboys and Indians grace my stoop,
Along with sheriffs, desperados and soldiers by the troop!
Ferocious pirates, scary skeletons and dreadful witches,
Leer and grin at me, nearly scaring me out of my britches!
Standing regally is a king and queen, each wearing a crown,
Along with their court jester, a gaudily bedecked clown!
There's a sweet little princess decked out in ribbons and lace,
Smiling demurely with cute dimples on her pretty face!
A little secret with which those little monsters I'll never share,
But I'll clue you in on my own little Halloween trick if I dare -
I dole out bubblegum, candy corn and stuff I don't care for much,
But keep the Snickers bars, Babe Ruths, Hershey Kisses and such!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2012
It was a chilly morning in paradise...
Autumn was already here...
A time for strange things to happen, as it is that time of year...
She was up most of the night, doing a write....
Regarding some hubs and her series titled "Legend of Fred "
Ahh the questions she had... rolling around in her head..
Were “where were her readers, her followers “ her Hubbers...?
They had all seemed to like what she wrote in the past..
But lately her hubs were falling so fast....
She had written articles on health and life..
perhaps she had targeted too much strife...
Maybe they wanted to read about food..
But when you're not a cook, that would be kinda rude..
Oh, will wonders never cease ?
So she decided she'd get some zzzzz's
She lay in her bed, not moving at all...
but breathing quite deeply, as I saw the covers fall...
So I stretched my muscles and walked ever so slow..
So as not to wake her , then I spied her big toe..
Sticking out from the blanket..it was such a temptation..
And with me having such a" foot fixation".. however...
She needed the rest , so she can finish her quest..
I have some thoughts of my own...
that I would like to share in a poem..
And I would be happy to help her.. but..
I don’t think the world is ready for me...
as I am a BLOGGING CAT.. you see
So I will close for now...everyone have a great week...as
I'm off to seek something that has a tweak and a squeak..
Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2013
Around the Corner Contest
(WINTER is around the corner)
By Sally Wood
There's an old man I heard is new in town
They say he's not shy as he takes over the land
His business is snow and ice and cold rain
The neighbors are talking he's all the rage
He changed the scenery his very first day
While the trees lost their leaves and died away
He has a blower for harsh cold winds and rain
And later he'll order people to dress his way
This old man has taken over our town
People are running in attempts to escape his plans
They wear heavy clothing, boots, and hats on their heads
As they pass him, he laughs, he has nothing to dread
Yes, there is a new old man in town
Who has people angry and avoiding his frown
He'll keep on moving a few months down the line
But for now, our town won't be free for quite some time!
Copyright © joan woods | Year Posted 2014
Horizons painted orange and red and yellow and gold,
Means there will be added garbage bags to fill and fold.
Temperatures cool and people begin to move inside,
Soon Influenza is at its peak, you’ve no place to hide.
Flu shots may help, but you seem to get sick anyways,
Rainy wet weather, dull and dreary, much shorter days.
Doesn’t sound like splendor - outstanding and grand,
But I still think its the best season, please let me expand,
There’s good things and bad that comes with autumn,
The splendor for me, is more clothes to cover my bottom.
Written by Lee Ramage
September 8, 2012
For Russell Sivey’s contest
Copyright © Lee Ramage | Year Posted 2012
In the Fall we are flooded with all things that are Pumpkin Spice.
Some are just plain weird, and not so nice.
Many we wait for all year, like the café latte, which is delicious.
But Pumpkin Spice in my Hershey’s kisses makes me suspicious.
The Pumpkin Spice beer I would definitely steer clear.
Twinkies in Pumpkin Spice is so wrong… I would not go near.
The Pumpkin Spice Oreos and Doritos make me shudder.
When I see Pumpkin Spice toothpaste and Listerine I say, “Oh brother!”
People have become obsessed with the Pumpkin Spice flavor.
It gives us a warm, fuzzy feeling that we savor.
The Pumpkin Spice craze borders on the bizarre.
But the Pumpkin Spice pie is the best thing by far.
Copyright © Brenda McGrath | Year Posted 2016
He strokes away the greens
To touch mosaic
Upon, the now of autumn trees
And amidst set breeze
Leaves of paint chips scatter
And from on high, let a harrowing slip sneeze
Lastly to December
Branches, canvas bare
When He's decided...
To shake away the dandruff, from right out of His hair
Copyright © Michael Smith | Year Posted 2011
Thank you, Ma’am, for the pumpkin.
I am not distressed in the least.
Though it’s not of my preference,
It’ll suffice for a Halloween feast.
Mother Nature could have mixed up her seeds.
That could explain why the color is bland.
One might think Jack Frost didn’t finish his work,
Or, Autumn is making a political stand.
I am so glad you came with this pumpkin.
Come on in Ma’am, and stay for awhile.
No, I don’t mind it isn’t bright orange,
Though it isn’t the most popular style.
Please, have a seat as good company should,
And quit the uncertainties filling your mind.
Don’t doubt my plan for sweet pumpkin pie,
As giving me this ugly, white pumpkin was kind.
Copyright © Virginia Mitchell | Year Posted 2011
As the autumn and winter seasons inexorably unfold,
You can bet that I'm destined to catch my annual cold!
I've tried every remedy from the local pharmacist's shelf,
Includin' syrups, lozenges, even toddies to cure myself!
My nothe ith all thopped up an' I can hardly respthire.
My lungths are congesthed - they feel like they're afire!
My eyeths are red an' thwollen an' I can barely thee.
Every bone an' muthel in my body acheths - woe ith me!
I called the docther's offith for relief only to be told,
That he wath home in bed nursin' a nasthy cold!
He would've told me to take an athpirin an' go to bed.
I reckon I'll juth have to thuffer through it here inthead!
'Cold' ith a mithnomer for thith afflicthion anyhow.
"Why ith it called a cold?", I muse, throkin' my fevered brow,
An' quaffin' noxthious concothions to relieve my burnin' throat.
The meds can't quash my mithery, as the pharmathy ads promote!
Man hath thent rockeths soarin' through the boundleth univerth,
So why can't they find a cure for thith worrithome curth!
There musth be some college kid who thomeday will find a cure.
She'd be more than eligible for Nobel estheem I'm quite sure!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rightths Resethered
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2011
~Naked in the Moonlight~
Sleep eludes me once more,
I can see the new bright moon
The wind howls through the open window
The curtains billow in the room.
Silently I creep downstairs
I bathe in the bright moonlight
It’s strange for such bad weather
The stars still twinkle every night.
The autumn nip is in the air,
I am naked as the day I was born
Hoping no one is looking out,
Because it is now nearly dawn.
The wind whips round my naked form
Its takes a while to pass
In fact I’m now a wind break
It can’t get past my ass…
© 14/ 09 /2012 ~GG~
Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl | Year Posted 2012
I must say that in my four score years I've done it all and seen it all,
But in the autumn of my life, noxious noises drive me up the wall!
I like the soothing sound of most music and birds trilling in the trees,
But, Lord, spare me the wheezing of those bagpipes, if you please!
I like the sound of thunder and the rain falling softly on my roof,
But I could strangle the neighbor for letting his mutt yap and woof!
I can tolerate classical music until the prima donna Madame Zaria,
Begins to belt out her raucous contralto in an intolerable aria!
A most trying nuisance and I suppose one of my biggest gripes,
Are kids with boom boxes and their jalopies with those roaring pipes!
I don't mind the occasional rumbling of a train or the screaming jets,
But when dining I suffer acid reflux hearing inane cell phone vignettes!
I've got a bone to pick with the inventor of the wailing saxaphone!
That and the squeaking of a clarinet are more than I can condone!
I like western musical harmony sung by "The Sons Of The Pioneers."
But spare me those "She Done Me Wrong Songs" - they aggravate my ears!
Why can't folks keep their cats inside so they aren't yowling on my lawn,
And a hex on the dude revving his Harley Davidson waking me at dawn!
I reckon before I blow a gasket or worse yet lose my poise,
I'd better rush out and buy some ear plugs to stifle that noxious noise!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2012
I do not know?
Summer's sun shily entered the season
keeping the Northern Hemisphere's Southern regions
comfortable, a spirit quite forgettable.
Deep down, everyone knows
it's just a matter of time, till it shows
its true color upon all living creatures.
And August went on fire, sweating out
all the anger ever held - burnt out
to a crisp, wisp of hot air, ceasing to exist.
What was it that blew out of proportion?
apathy, perhaps, making us anxious
wishing for things to matter, sense-filling?
Needs to happen before Autumn comes
knocking on the door, our hearts gone numb?
Our lips parched, our skin wrinkled, dried.
This wave of heat has turned us into beggars,
barren of pride, destitute, pining for the waters
Looting from anything wet, loosing footing, falling.
Our eyes then lift up as one to the heavens
sunfilled, tearing, realizing pray is a better manner
our hands grab another, another, another.
We wait in faith, we sing, we dance for rain,
what transpired in the hearts shines like sunrays
and the heavens can't help but open its door.
Thunder clouds gather, noses smell what's about to happen
faces brighten into smiles, watching the descent of water
our thirst becomes assuaged with its pure flavor.
And the new morning issues, the incredible breaking news.
Copyright © Caroline Cécile Delacroix | Year Posted 2012
The leaves all cover the garden
I thought, “For goodness sake”
Then I went into the shed
And found the garden rake
I scraped and pulled for hours
Until I had a pile
I could see the green lawn grass
And it really made me smile
The pile grew bigger, I was pleased
They were ready to be binned
Then I heard a rustling
The howling of the wind
Now I shouted lots of words
And it wasn’t, “For goodness sake”
The leaves all cover the garden again
So I binned that useless rake!
Copyright © Robert Broadbent | Year Posted 2015
Give me a season....give me a reason...to start anew
It's gonna be autumn soon and the leaves are dropping like dew
Give me a season...give me a reason...to change color
I bet I'd be the color blue....Ohoohooooh... But I'm just a blur
Give me a stairway...teach me the baby steps...to start anew
It's gonna be a tornado...pretty soon and the wind is blowing so true
Hold my hand...hold it tight...give me your trust...give me a sign of contentment
I bet you're the color yellow...like the burning sun....ohoohoooooh...we'll set up a tent
We'll be together at last...the ocean won't separate us...ohoohoooooh no!
We'll be partners at task....the mountains won't make us give up...ooh ooh no!
We'll be together all the time!
We'll be together...no matter what time...
What season...what day...what hour
We both got the power
And we won't cower!
We will blossom up like a flower
And we will be as vigilant as a tower!
I'll change the season to spring time
Just for you...just for you...
I'll obliterate the darkness and destruction...I'll wipe off the grime
From your hand...from your hand
Our friendship will never cease
And we'll create peace...
Peace in mind
Peace that you'll find
In the Spring time
There is a time
For peace, love and hope
I'll do what you wish and never say "nope!"
Because we'll be working together
And we will conquer!
And we will be stronger!
And we'll create peace...
in due time...we'll have peace in mind
Peace that we'll find
In the Springtime
Copyright © JW Earnings | Year Posted 2012
In the following rain
will make friendship with the sun.
I will open my feelings ..
Anything could happen !
The four seasons will dance with trees.
Anything will takes the warmth of poetry.
I live with a new light.
A new rose.
A new star.
A new song.
The darkness leave me , forever.
Copyright © MD ALZHRANI | Year Posted 2015
Down in the meadow
where the pumpkins grow,
God is putting on an extravagant show.
Bright orange pumpkins
lying all around…
Little pumpkins, middle-sized pumpkins,
and giant pumpkins can all be found.
Hundreds of pumpkins
waiting for the day,
when they’ll be loaded
on a truck filled with hay.
To market, to market,
and then to the store,
Soon they’ll find a home
by someone’s back door.
Then Grandma will cook the pumpkin
and turn it into pies,
And that’s why God
rains pumpkins down from the skies.
Copyright © Betty Butler | Year Posted 2016
Frothy exhaust curdles the Lumpkin
Hard Cider breath exudes from
every male bumpkin
Screamin kids Crab apples into
melted taffy dunkin
Uncle Leroy's flabby ass into
shredded bale sunken
Aunt Polly on the sagging porch
Cousin Marie on sawdust kitchen
floor corn husks shuckin
Baby Liza in corn pone crib goat's
milk from RC botttle suckin
One-eyed Grandpa Moses up at
Bear Cove spelunkin
Copyright © Stephen Parker | Year Posted 2012
Hazy pictures were displayed
Old oaken frames contained them
Hanging slight off kilter right
The walls littered like leaves in autumn lawns
Grandma keeps glimpses of every leaf pile we made
Remember that Day? Indepence Day, we think...
Smiled postures, sincere familial moment
Each recounting the tales we told most well
Classic family fables...annual oral essays
The laughs reached hysterics, when we remembered.....
These pictorial journals stand proud
Historical record of Easter egg-hunt/fist-fights
account of dogs who eat cake...sons first birthday
the dog ate the cake on his FIRST birthday?!!
Picture proved guilt for Bailey, you mutt!!
Chocalate chops-licking as if smiling for the camera
Christmas collages of gift wrapping typhoons
Swirling in heaps covering everything
Your eyes were half shut holding
holding an Alf doll...old school dated stuff
Fashion victim flashbacks...man, you had a perm?!
relishing rubicks cubes , mysterious artifact
I could never have vengeful laughing
without this"Wham" haircut snapshot
Grandma likes the silly one we took
eyes crossed, fish lipped child faces
chubby wind burned cheeks, pushed through snowsuit hoods
Snowman center stage in a motley group pose
bordered either side, white barred polaroid
taped, crudley cropped, in center of this frame
Each still reinactment is a Joyful look beyond
Life had painted beautiful moments,
and we were there to catch it....
Copyright © Steve Voorhees | Year Posted 2009
We leave on vacation to see the Grand Canyon
I ask my son when is the last time ha changed his socks, his feet smell like
My wife laughs and says that isn't his feet, it's his breath
I tell her no more equate toothpaste, we're switching to Crest
My wife says in a panicky voice, I forgot my social life line
I tell her to calm down, everything will be fine
She says, turn around and head toward home with the speed of a Russian Mig
We can't take this trip, I can't be without my wig
One hour and two tickets later we finally arrive back home
Now she has her wig in hand and her voice has a nice, calm tone
She says what are we waiting for, let's be on our way
It's only 9:30am, it's already been a long, long day
Now we are back to the area where we had to turn around
I remember that singles club called Lost and Found
As evening settles in, we stop by an eatery called The Autumn Twig
She says please bear with me as I put on my wig
My son and I sit in the car quietly, as we are close to death from a lack of food
My wife tells us let's enjoy our vacation, you two need to adjust your attitudes
We sit in the car and watch as people come out of this greasy spoon diner
I keep reading their slogan, If you're lookin' for rib stickin' food ain't none finer
I keep having these visions of me at the table, eating so much, my wife and son
call me a pig
Finally she is done fixing her wig
I watch in horror as the Diner's lights go off
My dream is gone, no pig, no trough
She says in disgust, that's just great, where can we get a bite to eat now
I tell her about a barbecue joint five up the road called Four Sides of a Cow
She says okay, but I could not belive what she just did
She smiles and says I told you everything will be okay, as she removes her wig
We arrive outside the place rated as some of the best barbecue around
She throws her wig on the dash and laughs like a circus clown
She says my hunger has taken over, I believe she's flipped her lid
She says let's go on inside, these people don't know me, they have never seen
me without my wig
Copyright © Eugene Carmen | Year Posted 2008
In time corpse shine twilight sun had tainted my inner vision
Shooting blanks at the rooster just supose another number feeling somber
Doesn't any wonder?
The inclusion within vile pathetic outrage
Shooting blanks as busy as Tyra Banks in bikini eating linguini
Torpedo, remember Frank Serpico?
Frantic in Autumn looking brightly colored orange
In pivotal choices sense of remoseful inclusion
In dirty laundry vile smell who could tell
A window opens air will blow to breath in the steam,
Shouts of glory to untold story morning glory;
Shooting blanks getting lost in the shark tank
Romantic interlude toward vanity
In tuned harmony to its hidden beasts menagerie
Shooting Blanks in the phone at the door
At the beach while Mrs. Polly eating a peach.
Copyright © Mario Vitale | Year Posted 2012
Autumn Better in Theory Than in Fact
By Elton Camp
Love of autumn many will opine
Some changing leaves do look fine
The gingko and the maple tree
Are the best colors I can see
But truthfully, when I look around
Most of the leaves simply turn brown
To praise, a special poet it does take
Surely one who doesn’t have to rake
I have to work very long and hard
To remove them from my yard
Knowing beyond any possible doubt
Next day, more will be scattered about
It makes the choice easy to understand
Why some build houses on treeless land
So as to glorious fall leaves I must say
I wish that green, all year, they’d stay
Copyright © Elton Camp | Year Posted 2012
O help me! I've fallen
And I can't get it up!
I'm stuck here acrawlin'
Up a Double-D cup
Now don't let us dicker
I am over the hill
Just be a mite quicker
Slipping me that blue pill!
Copyright © Rico Leffanta | Year Posted 2017