A blooper, a blunder, a bungle, a botch
A miscue, a misstep, misjudgment and more
A faux pas, a boo-boo, a bumble for sure
A miscalculation, a miscomputation, grade goes down a notch.
In time dissolved silence we watch,
vibrant, throbbing jugular notch,
connecting head ovoid to heart,
gifts of silence, we best not botch.
All nodes entwine, none stand apart,
since bliss has been added to cart,
whence as we frolic in delight,
each life breath is a work of art.
Touched by spirit by day and night,
embarking on a wingless flight,
doing nothing, remaining still,
one with God, we garner clear sight.
Nectar flows, we drink to our fill,
sounds of silence within us trill,
brought forth by divine magnetism,
graced thus when we surrender will.
Hooked onto the jugular notch
is a ray of light under God’s watch,
that soul’s ascent ego may not botch.
Noticing the happenstance reoccur,
with bliss magnetism we concur,
as nodes within, in joy purr.
She wasn’t a beauty
though pretty enough
Her gait charismatic
with looks to rebuff
He wanted to stop her
he waited and watched
For light in the tunnel
one chance not to botch
At last she took notice
his heart beating fast
Their eyes locked together
a fleeting repast
Time was suspended
new love in the air
As she boarded her plane
—leaving only a stare
(The New Room: November, 2023)
My little brother cut his hair on my watch
I decided to fix it, the best I could do.
He was squirming, it’s uneven, a job of botch.
Not my fault I told my mom, blame it on Hugh.
Hugh is three, mama said. I blame you, you, you.
That made me angry, now I am irritated with Hugh.
When a little bro cuts his hair, what’s a big brother to do?
I have to tell you, now we are both in the doghouse too.
Your prescription is ready,
The pharmacy wrote.
Reminders were steady,
Each day a new note.
I gave in at last,
Just a ten minute stroll.
Get it over with fast
Was my Saturday goal.
No big deal, but a chore
I did not want to do.
When I entered the store,
It was quiet; I knew
That I’d goofed, for my watch
Said ‘twas 1:35,
Which means that I did botch
When I chose to arrive.
From 1:30 to 2,
They pull down every gate
So the pharmacy crew
Can have lunch; no debate.
Though annoyed at myself
(I’d forgotten this fact)
Nothing on any shelf
Made this shopper react.
So I left, even though
Today’s task wasn’t done
But tomorrow, I’ll go
Before break time’s begun.
I Hit Your Car
I hit your car in the parking lot.
I was there and you were not.
So I write this note as the people watch,
and my licence plate they will botch.
And now this driver he must go.
I don’t want to be here when you show.
By
Josehf Lloyd Murchison
Here is the sad tale of the moronic bullfrog king
He may be royal, but he is a ding-dong-ding-a-ling.
He cannot tie his shoes, drive a car or even sing.
Whistling is out, he is a lackadaisical old thing.
He has a name, but he does not answer to it.
For he does not remember it day-to-day, not one bit.
Majestic maids and butlers are much smarter than he.
He does not even hit the toilet when he takes a …..
He has no friends, but his court is always full.
People can steal his riches with a tug and a pull.
For he does not notice as they grab his watch.
No robbery there ever had even one small botch.
Lickety-split here he comes, so pretend to bow.
He will either ride in on a donkey, pelican or cow.
He is the oddest bullfrog king we have ever had.
And this was all said by his mom and dad.
The truest of the truthful dukes who chooses to amuse the fuse of the groove to let loose /
So soon a bloom that is to loom over any gloom /
Forget bigots they’ll never get big like shots or lots /
As I’m aloft through the roof of this joint like I smoked your top locks off /
It's time to prove a hue of stooge slew anew over the slop and open up shop /
This is just my hop to jot through rot like I’m laying sod around the job /
Lost a corn cob as I jogged and juiced a hog in marinade across the log /
Sogged the mob and their pishposh hodgepodge /
Lobbed a rock at her wishy wash lodge she thought she had locked /
Got a troth full of suave to unlock and dislodge /
As we opt for a broth onslaught to loft all the costs /
I mopped the spot of rot sought after by maggots /
We hoped not to botch what my hero’s fruition brought us /
But a lying jont of stop watch witches forgo wishes and forge a lot unjust /
Upped the ante of the pot and ended with no loss just profit /
Stunned the evil planning in a trot as we tended to our cause
School and work resumed today,
The holidays complete,
So now we’re moving forward,
Hoping slips we won’t repeat.
Of course, there will be blunders
And perhaps a huge snafu,
But the ways we botch and bungle
Should at least be fresh and new.
If we’re fortunate, then maybe
We can laugh at our mistakes
And accept that there are times when
We just can’t catch any breaks.
So far things are going smoothly;
Well, at least they are for me,
Thought there’s lots of time ahead
To mess up 2023.
I've never learned to change a tire.
It's not a skill I wish to acquire.
If stuck I'm always going to hire..
Also, can't change my car's oil,
perhaps I was a bit spoiled.
Cooking I botch, even with foil..
Couldn't dance til I took aerobics.
I've always been math a phobic.
Don't have the patience to be stoic..
There's just one skill I'd like to hone,
speak Chinese on the phone, so
telemarketer's will leave me alone...
Who can see this happen? I'm scared
It moved me and made my heart feel snared
But I knew I could only watch
Blood splattered violently across the botch
While you are engaged in an endless game
Everything is unfair, I kept thinking, what a shame!
Written: September 21, 2022
after drinking scotch
what we did do was to watch
plan they had would botch
up efforts will boost
while we watched a chicken roost
that they always must
we would like to wish
always again and again
free us from our sin
fight with an ally
worst was fighting without them
would prefer the first
wonder which is worse
living a life of leisure
struggle until death
putin ounce by ounce
bad news and on will pounce
also try to trounce
they played a tom tom
had a lot of RAM and ROM
sounding like blasting bomb
did learn how to drive
were certain we would survive
then remain alive
never gave a hoot
we prefer to prosecute
finding all the loot
we had heard a bird
knew was totally absurd
liked her coffee stirred
When an uptick in violet crimes
Made the front page of the New York Times,
Seems the cause of the botch
Was the proof of the scotch;
Now the checker hawks greeting card rhymes.
—————
SECOND PLACE WINNER
For the “Valentine Challenge” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich
Form: Limerick
2/6/2022
A gunslinger carving a notch
Slipped, sticking the knife in his crotch
Of course it drew blood
But more like a flood
So right thar lies Cassidy Botch
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