The greens in my salad,
Do not look the same.
Not lettuce or spinach,
Can't really explain.
The leaves are light green.
Some are light,
Some are fluffy.
Some have hallowed stems,
Like straws.
I tried to feed the puppy.
He wasn't having any of that.
The cat meowed,
Arched her back.
No one was interested in my salad,
Except me.
I built a salad tower,
Dribbled dressing down the sides.
Now the tomatoes had some place to slide.
Twas a castle with lots of sides!
Cherry tomatoe on top,
Became a boulder!
Slid off.
Knocked my fork to the floor.
Reached down ready to create some more.
Then Momma walked into the room.
Momma said," Where did you get that salad I see?"
It was a bowl on the table.
I thought you left for me.
Momma said," Those are weeds from the garden.
If you ate any your tummy will hurt!"
Oh, my!
I thought it was my salad that you had left by.
Momma said," Perhaps you should throw it away.
I'll make you a better salad today."
Categories:
dressing down, 2nd grade, 3rd grade,
Form: Rhyme
‘Faced with a fight I don’t back down’,
He, blowing last trumpet his own,
PM and Party Head,
Somewhat misty eyed, said
With heavy head on losing crown.
______________________
Happenings|08.01.2025|
Poet’s Note: Prime Minister for ten long years Justin Trudeau had to finally ‘back down’ despite all his bravado. But he himself was responsible for the loss of popularity with his immature behaviour and policies. Trump called him governor of 51st State of USA and he took it with a smug smile. Xi of China once gave him a one-to-one dressing down and he could muster little defence. His troubles with India are well known. And to top it all, he is disowned by his own party and people of Canada. No wonder, Justin Trudeau is just out-- a handsome yet vapid man who failed to do justice to his famous last name. It was in India, his first trip that proved a turning point in perception of his personality (more than his inviting a convicted terrorist to his entourage, it was his general buffoonery).
Categories:
dressing down, humor, political,
Form: Limerick
Hold my head for me, dear
For I've been trying not to lose it
The words on my tongue
Are no longer silver-plated
No longer sugar-coated
Still there remains
Some sweetness
In being plain human
I do not wish to call it nectar
I do not wish to call it ichor
or liquid light
From now on,
I think I'll just call it blood
And live just as I should
And press my feet into the earth
And not imagine it's the clouds
And try to write more and rhyme less
And try to dream more
and daydream less
And try to heal instead of dressing up
Categories:
dressing down, 12th grade, dance, perspective,
Form: Free verse
Basic training was no joke for my daughter
Her troop was under the jurisdiction of Mother Russia.
Mother Russia, their drill sergeant was five foot four.
My daughter is five foot ten. She could not stop smiling.
He did not appreciate her height.
Not highly successful; it was like Tweety Bird dressing down Sylvester.
I sent her seventeen Elvis postcards; fifteen landed on the same day.
Mother Russia’s policy was if you get more than two pieces of mail you must sing a song in front of the troop.
She was supposed to sing an Elvis song but she did not know any.
The whole troop had to sing one and coax her along.
It did not help that the troop next door was carousing most of the time.
They were being referred to as “Disneyland”.
Categories:
dressing down, america,
Form: Prose Poetry
Yesterday
her nest she made
today inside
three eggs she laid
for three weeks incubation
and then the celebration
but until then
upon her nest
she’ll sit
for her
there’ll be no rest
both day and night
and night and day
for her there is no
time to play
her partner gone
for hours on end
no doubt he’s out
amongst his friends
when he returns
so she can fly
I hear her
talking
whilst she’s walking
up and down
she squawks and walks
up and down
she walks and squawks
he’s in the dog house
so to speak
he’s been too long
he knows he’s wrong
so patiently he sits
whilst taking all her hits
for going out upon the town
she’s giving him
a dressing down
then flying off for food
and drink
back in a hurry
for her eggs
she doth worry
she settles down
he’s on the town
he’ll be taking the flack
when he gets back...
Written 19th May 2020
after witnessing this scene with a pair of black backed gulls taking residence and building a nest - all in full view of my balcony. Yesterday I caught a glimpse of her three eggs, as she began to lay them - Nature truly is magnificent!
Contest Brian's Choice M
Sponsor Brian Strand
FIRST PLACE
Categories:
dressing down, bird, funny, nature,
Form: Rhyme
Seen wearing his wife’s silken gown
O’Keef’s soon the talk of the town
In her basque and pink bra
He looked like a p orn star
His wife gave him a dressing down
He admits’ I’m into cross dressing
And this is my way of confessing
You’re the same size as me
I wear your clothes for free -
My desires I’m no longer suppressing!
03/24/20
Categories:
dressing down, clothes, humorous,
Form: Limerick
Trees trembling,
Catastrophic cries,
As leaves depart,
For other pastures,
Dressing down,
Reaching moments,
And places,
We can't,
Russling, their language,
For no one to hear,
The wind, breathing life,
Into staid, ruthless,
Emancipated limbs,
Stalking, talking,
Standing,
Alone,
Rooted deeply,
To no one,
Settling,
Piercing sun,
Dribbleing light,
To expand the view,
Dignity,
Offered nightly,
By solace seekers,
Memory makers,
Bouncing life,
From trunk,
To trunk,
Homesteads,
For heroes,
Who wish,
To cover,
Their nut.
(10/24/02)
Categories:
dressing down, analogy, appreciation, environment, nature,
Form: Free verse
A naturist vicar from Bude
Was working and caught preaching nude
Though he wore his dog collar
The Archbishop did holler
‘Your sermon was terribly rude’
The Archbishop he wore a fixed frown
and gave him a stern dressing down ...
When you stand in the pulpit
you should wear your full kit -
though your body’s a great shade of brown!
11/20/18
Categories:
dressing down, humorous,
Form: Limerick
Remember when Macklemore rapped about Thrift Shop? And all you guys thought Valu Village was the place to make a big cash drop. Well you know what? I'll tell you the honest truth: y'all are walking around in lulus with someone else's cum stains, ew!
You think it's cheap to buy a shirt for $7.99 but I'll go to Guess and get that fresh fit feel for double the dime -- ****, it's on sale. That Thrift Shop movement was just a marketing trend made to persuade you sheep to not consume quality threads and a classier attitude.
It's not what you wear that makes you who you are but your clothes show it well when you're acting like trash at the bar. I guess I'm just saying stop dressing down. Ladies look lovely and thrifty isn't that nifty. It's nasty, you're wearing other people's sex wrinkles and sweat stains. Think of all the illnesses you could gain.. Damn, that's an exaggeration but we don't need a stanky nation..
Categories:
dressing down, age, allegory, appreciation, beauty,
Form: Free verse
AYE RIGHT
Written 6 May 2008
So the guy
In the Right Guard advert
Has "had a bad day"?
Excuse me if I don't
Shed any tears
On this jumped-up eejit's behalf
A dressing down from the boss
When his powerpoint presentation
Doesn't go down well?
Try drawing the Nat King
With hungry kids to feed
A real living hell
A rogue tennis racquet
Sends a dummy's head spinning
In an embarrassing incident at the mall?
Try security guards
Turfing your gin-soaked carcass
Out in the rain
When you try to kip in their hall
A key breaking in the door
So his night of passion
With a beautiful bird is put on hold?
Still much better than
A sherman over the Daily Star
And the worst imagineable paper cut
On one of the folds
I wonder how this idiot
Would deal with genuine grief
And despair?
He'd need more than
A can of Right Guard
To stop the sweat from
Flooding everywhere
Categories:
dressing down, people, satire
Form: Light Verse
The End.
Don't answer the door.
Or pick up the phone.
Never go out, opted out.
Do without.
Given up the fight.
Reached the end.
Switch off the light.
Cloths untidy, bed unmade.
Slouch around in dressing gown.
You gave a dressing down.
Why should I stir myself?
No one cares. I'm on the shelf.
Unshaved, hair askew.
Slouch around in my stew.
No hope for you, my man.
You've had it.
Thats true.
What a way to end.
In a dustbin, to send.
No good to man or beast.
Rubbish you are.
Never a star.
.......................................
Categories:
dressing down, angst,
Form: Epitaph