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Best Cheap Date Poems | Poetry

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The Cheap Date by McGrath, Brenda

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The Best Cheap Date Poems

Details | Cheap Date Poem | Create an image from this poem.

NAME BLAME

About my name.
If only I could have had more input!
But you were so busy reading
"What to Expect" that you
Weren't expecting how much everyone would hate my name!
Rhymes, people, rhymes! Why do you think I was kicking so hard?

About a name.
Shakespeare said a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
Hmm. You could hand me the most beautiful bouquet of roses, 
But if you said, "I got these Fart Flowers just for you," I'd be spelling my name for the judge issuing the restraining order.

Changing my name.
Please don't make any suggestions;
We all know how well your first choice went. My closest friends have all put in their two cents:
Chatty, Fatty, Sweet Cheeks, Banana Beak, Mommy, Daddy (no more martinis for my husband) and others not fit to print.

My chosen name.
So many choices: Nobody doesn't like Sara Lee! Or the person formerly known by a loser name!
No. I picked a winner. Sexy. Addictive. Welcome at any party!
Smoking hot, never a cheap date and so good you'll want more in a few hours! HI! I'm Mary Jane!

January 16, 2017


Copyright © Cindi Rockwell | Year Posted 2017


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Politically Incorrect

Once transformed into an angel of light

Bite into,
Having long viscous fangs that bite
Gone our the lost days of getting respect now in a daze
Perhaps this is the politically incorrect faze?

Politically Incorrect,
Zero tollerance for misinterpretation of the text,
Others create a barrage of jokes & get respect
Having abortion on demand means nothing to these big City Thugs!

Or is it just best as I plainly reflect & sweep that notion in thought under the rug?

It used to mean something to have integrity, respect & authenticity?
Still clearer heads have prevailed while some have found there's lying in a sewer...
A transformed angel that appears light yet is the one of death
I must strictly confess,

A tulip dies beneath the sod in time

Do you all remember when you were broke down to your last thin dime?
We plant seeds of regret & then call this charm!
Sound the alarm!
Gone our the days since 1988,

A cheap date a long from that of Watergate.
What a flake I mean Nixon & his lies!
Does this notion in thought come at any big enough surprise?
We have adopted the fake mentality

A notion of disrespect in brutal reality
The onslaught of death & shut gun blasts in the streets!
You want to say something yet you can't
We have cowards for politicians & innocent regret

We erect billboards with false hidden ads
We attend war zones the most children call schools,
Still this is your society & you get to do what you want
A fight to even cope

When you have that fight with the battled old spiced soap on the rope!

Gone our the days today we just froloc in a haze
Our celebrities our fake & so is our dates
Date?
Amazonian, fake women that look like men

It's best to go down to Florida & their work on your tans!
Yet we all planted our seeds in this sod of death
A hero's text reads sorry that we met
Gone our the idols we used to hold dear

Today I sheltered a tear like the indian crying in the rain
In deep pain not shelter lies dormant in anguish against
It's deepest hardened sinners quest
Perhaps were just in some violation being put through an ultimate test?

Now I'm better your so very sorry that we ever met ?
Politically Incorrect
Where as others can say whatever they feel
Perhaps I'll just have to play my one last game of Let's Make A Deal ?


Copyright © Mario Vitale | Year Posted 2012


Details | Cheap Date Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Cheap Date

My date said, “I always order water on my dates.”
“Then I can save a couple of bucks, which is great.”
Alarm bells started to go off in my mind.
This match.com guy was either broke or cheap, and not a find.

If he cannot afford to order me a sweet iced tea,
Then to be honest, I was ready to flee.
Maybe he was too forthright for his own good,
But it let me know how he financially stood.

He confirmed my suspicion when at the end of the dinner,
He split the tab to the penny, proving he was no winner.
He seemed so nice when he asked me for the date.
This one I will throw back, he’s too much of a cheapskate.



Copyright © Brenda McGrath | Year Posted 2017


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My Five Senses

Vicks Mentholatum. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
I sometimes open the jar and stick my nose in for a little smell
Which turns into a big smell, a little on my nose, some around my
Neck, and finally I beg my husband to slather it on my back while
I saturate my chest with it.
This smell loves me, calms me, and nurtures me like no other.
I probably spent the first ten years of my life slathered like this,
It brings back memories of mother, warm cocoa, soft scarves, and books.

Nothing opens my soul up faster than Native American flute music. It brings
out my wolf wild side. I want to run to a cliff and howl at the moon. It takes
me instantly to Sedona vacations, turquoise jewelry, kachina dolls, bringing the
American Southwest into my heart, and healing the sad places.

Almost everything I see delights me – shiny things, natural things, new things.  But the thing that makes my heart sing the fastest is the sight of my grandchildren. Any one of them. I have ten, and it does not matter which one is coming toward me. There is a surge of happiness that leaps through me in a boundless joyful way that cannot be described.  It is a craziness that must be lived and felt.

Beans will be the death of me. My favorite tastes all include beans. It is a toss-up which one
I like the most – jalapeno peppers stirred in refried beans, barbequed beans, kidney beans, pork and beans, and ham and beans. I salivate when I think of any of these.  It is a spontaneous reaction that I have never been able to quell.  When I was a child we ate lots of beans, so maybe that is where this is coming from. I have no idea.  But I know these are my favorite meals. I am a cheap date.

What do I not like to touch? The list is tiny.  I am a tactile learner. To teach me, you have to let me grab it, shake it, spin it, toss it, catch it, and rub it.  I touch wallpaper, woodwork, and metal file cabinets in offices.  I touch ants, rocks, flowers, grasses.  I hug trees.  I hug people.  I am a professional toucher.
Possibly my favorite touch is warm, sudsy bath water after a trying day.  I immerse myself, washing off sadness and disappointment, thinking of the Vicks Mentholatum which I will slather on when I get out.

Written:  July 27, 2018
Entered:  My 5 Senses Contest                           Sponsor:  Viv Wigley


Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018