Droll Poems

Interlude

“In the fall, I believe again in poetry...”
— Jaakko A. Ahokas

When September comes through heated breezes,
sunflowers watch droll dragonflies duet
to tunes of melodic taunts and teases
of Autumn's promise to pay Summer's debt.
A bright season greets us without regret.
Behind is buried under yesterday
and tomorrow is waiting for its say.
Joyful is this moment in Nature's arms
when time suspends until it finds its way
and ripe Autumn casts its bountiful charms.

Fried Egg

A portly man with manner, droll, 
approached an egg out on a stroll,
kindly offering him a ride,
and soon that egg was fried.

Emma and Deacon

Emma, Empress of Unicorn Empire,
esprit de corps of elementary school,
expeditious at exaggerating expression,
eagerly extending empathy of enormous embrace,
endless enthusiasm, exuberant existence.

Deacon, Duke of derring-do,
diligently, doggedly daily to delightful displays
of dauntless daredevil, destruction,
determined gamer, droll demeanor,
dearly dedicated to devouring desserts,
Dad's double, diplomat of Dreamland.

Whip

I need a break, a minute’s breath of space;
The furious tempo driving me along, 
a fussy temper, fervent all day long
to strive, stress, toil, scramble to keep the pace—

—the pace of a spent poet keeping face;—
enough to numb a hand that once inked strong
words, and made paper sound loud as a gong.—
and what a base disgrace…to lose the chase. 

How many spears did that old poet shake,
which time has flung away(, or swallowed whole,)
that today we marvel at his masterworks? 
What thousand wonders hide behind the break
of history?, what secrets, grand or droll,
lay low and lost within his epoch’s lurks?

Ode to Beer

O’ fluid friend,—
			 —O’ liquid lover, please
embrace me, soothe my sootheless, stranded soul—,
										       —caress my restless thoughts, and set them still.—
O’ sap of spirit,—  
			   —sweet sip of ambrose!

O’ potent potion,—
			     —O’ magic mixture, daze
me, dazzle me, nuzzle me, numb my frill
fringes	|— 								       —|		      Droll Dame, find me a drooling fool.—
O’ nectar of the night,—
				      —dose me for a doze…

Keep me cohere,nt and comp,osed—‘sxcu,se me—
I’m stumblin’ on your slippy words,(I meant
mine,—ours?)and now you sweep me to the flo,or.
…
O’ fluke of fortune!, wicked whiskey’s woe!,
why wrong you me thus?, morn’s scalding sun askant
breaks blaring through my window,—	 head —  aches   —    …sore.

Just for the Lonely

Beautiful are folk with hearts of gold
Unsightly are those with hearts stone cold
Take some time to learn of someone's worth
You may get major surprise of earth
Women don’t need to be dressed in lace
A man doesn’t need a handsome face
Just to be a compassionate soul 
A person who fits the friendship role
Would you befriend me, an aging droll?

Night of Tragedy

The incentive to write the following verses came from my thoughts 
at the moment the 'president' addressed the country about the 
tragedy that took place over DC.


The night many witnessed a collision over Washington, DC
A terrible fate and loss of lives. It could've been you or me.
"Acceptable" the description of traffic control at that hour
Then, "not normal" twas said of those manning the tower.

In a burst of flames, Blackhawk and AA fell into the river
A national tragedy witnessed that caused many to shiver.
Sixty-seven in the cold Potomac... what a horrific way to die
Left behind, their family and friends, many tears they'd cry.

Except for one... While tears flowed in hours of mourning,
The President's heartless speech, I found worthy of scorning.
He read words without emotion, no compassion in his droll voice
A Republican elephant, more like an a.s.s. ~ the people's choice.

He made it worse by pointing a crooked finger, narcissist fool,
blaming Dems for the crash. Greed and power make him drool.
A President without a heart cannot display grief and empathy.
What kind of man is totally void of showing an ounce of sympathy?

Some Might Say Plum Tuckered

Plum tuckered from the Polar Express,
off the rails and despairing of goody-
goody gumdrops and sweet words
that impresses many a poetic treat.

Preparation of Victorian sweets, via PC,
dreaded, droll, glorious and interminable.
I’m laughing at you, if you try, Sugar Plum.
You’ll turn colors as a longsuffering victim.

The SP Fairy, flew through the season
of peace and joy, only her tippy toes caring.
Not a fruitcake, herself, to be busy for days,
nor fuss and layer a dobosh torte for hours.

Retirement and Bird

A bird in a button-down shirt and a vest
joined me for coffee, and sadly confessed, 
pecking distractedly at a cinnamon roll,
his manner affectingly droll.

What he said, as I sat on my park bench,
was (and I quote), "if you pardon my French",
(he then carefully searched for a term),
and said, "how I do despise worm."

turn to grey

I've forgotten how to cry
and the days are droll
i had you in the palm of my hand
You were blonde
but your story has been told
Hold the day in your hand
Dreams can soothe you
And the Sun can be a bastillon

Oh Notepad

It's here
I dump my thoughtful odes
The words unchecked
As brain downloads

This snow white
Electric paper faux
Is where my heart-felt
Ravings go

I tap, delete
I type and scroll
Construct a rhyme
Pithy and droll

The black on ivory
Stark and crude
To deeper feelings
Will allude

So as this self
Effacing track
Develops with it's 
Clicky clack

I meditate
On all before
Invite them in
As if by door

To life and love
To hope and loss
To friendships, new
To birth or cross

With thankful heart
And no disdane
For poet's muse
Doth still remain

droll dragons drastic dragnet

droll dragon’s drastic dragnet drizzles droopily
dreaming drones drudge dripping drops of drizzle
dredging and drenching dragon’s drastic dragnet
droll dromedary drives drooping dragnet’s drums

Alone

Barely I stood
before being knocked down.
Presenting smiles
to hide my frown.

Long sleeves in summer
to hide the signs.
Conceal the bruises.
Scars of my binds.

In dark I sit
peering underneath.
Hoping not to see
feet coming on floor beneath.

I dare not look
Into pains eye.
Or there shall be a reckoning
that would be applied.

My tummy growls.
empty as my soul.
Other kids point 
say hurtful words of droll

What more can I take?
What more can pain give?
Before scars are gone
And I can just live..live ..live.

I tremble with fear
knowing no other way.
I pray to God, take me. 
lest I take me away.

Raining in Summer

Like a welcome Summer rain, humor may suddenly
cleanse and cool the earth, the air and you.
—Langston Hughes

RAINING IN SUMMER

  The little teapot leaned over, steam pours out,
sizzles on the pavement. Trickles, sprinkles,
  waters the subsidiary gardens that sprout -
those pointed out by a grandson. My wrinkles
  curve up as the rain skillfully waters my willow,
my patch of roses and lilies, scattered and rare.

  With Summer storm, I ruminate on a long time ago.
This grand-generation of blessing, not yet a prayer.
  Drip…drop…splosh! The hope of the window pane.
We dream, as the outburst streams down to spill
  our dreams, like seeds giving more than the mundane.
God saturates our lives with more than we will.

  It’s raining Summer all over this land of honey-wheat.
Though droll and gray, a grateful soak gifts a sun rise.
  My flower petals, leaves and boughs bathed in heat
and nourishing drink, replenishing the owls, and other wise.
  Ker-splash, the puddles of inky-mud, stain the shins,
  leave me, us, them, refreshed and sodden with grins.

For Crying's Sake

For crying's sake,
If I could cry,
I'd take a break,
Yet eyes stay dry.

I'll stem the tears
With laughter droll,
And halt those fears
I bane extoll.

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