Q: What kind of boat might a former governor of Texas have used to help illegals get across the Rio Grande?
A: A Rick Perry ferry.
Q: What did the official Vatican CPA discuss with a former Pontiff?
A: Pope Francis' finances.
Q: What is the shudder you feel when you think you've seen a ghost?
A: A phantasm spasm.
Q: What is the best prescription for the nightly news blahs?
A: The David Muir cure.
Q: Who is a columnist who writes about fashion shows?
A: A couture reviewer.
Q: What do you call a really careless guy who accidentally shoots himself?
A: A ballistic statistic.
Q: What do you call a large reptilian predator's temporary replacement?
A: An ad hoc croc.
Q: What is an opera extravaganza in Milan, Italy?
A: A La Scala gala.
Q: How would a waitress explain to a customer why his ham and eggs are green?
A: With a Dr. Seuss excuse.
Q: What was everyone asking when Franz Joseph hadn't been seen for a few days?
A: Where was Papa Haydn hidin'?
If there's one thing I've learned in life:
to spread butter, one must use a knife.
I've one more point to get across:
use a spoon to spread pizza sauce.
Winter’s chill is in the air, a frosty gasp
washing twilight in gentle, glistening songs
breathless dreams hesitate, rising from God’s grasp
hopeful hearts reach out, knowing their love belongs
wintery tongues tell their lies in glowing rhymes
washing twilight in gentle, glistening songs
each life is filled with blessings in pleasant times
I sincerely believe in His blazing fire
wintery tongues tell their lies in glowing rhymes
His love is taking me higher and higher
without Him, I’d be baffled by the wild storms
I sincerely believe in His blazing fire
because of this awesome love, who always warms
I keep praising the One who died on that cross
without Him, I’d be baffled by the wild storms
this love and grace I attempt to get across
Winter’s chill is in the air, a frosty gasp
I keep praising the One who died on that cross
breathless dreams hesitate, rising from God’s grasp
Throughout a program playing so
Or the streaming of a show,
Commercials advertise the new...
Broadcasting to me and you.
Only seconds long, they toss
Their message out to get across.
Straightforward - sometimes with humour
To appeal to the consumer.
Marketed products for sale...
New lines of recent retail.
Variations of a flavour
Or something similar to savour.
Through jingles and spoken word...
Business making itself heard.
Near future events of outing
Made aware of - without shouting.
Samples of what can be seen
Coming soon to the big screen.
What television has in store
On channels, services and more.
Commercials may often employ
A sense of delay and annoy.
Still, their purpose is promotion...
It is our choice to make notion.
They say they grieve
Grieve the loss of their baby girl
But I don't know how to get across
I'm no longer their little pearl
They just gloss
Over the fact I'm no longer someone of bright pink swirls
But the color of blue stained glass.
They say they mourn
Mourn the girl I'll never be
Why can't they just listen?
I'm still me
I'm still one of their children
They said they’d still love me, was that a lie?
They call me a sin
How come to be me there has to be a sacrifice?
They say they cry
Cry over the fact I no longer go by ‘she’
Why can't they just listen to what I have to say?
No mom it's not just a phase
No I'm not just a tomboy
I told you who I was and my name.
Palazzo Strozzi near the Duomo is empty now,
The tourists having sought more grand amusements;
Perpetual restlessness the most common souvenir
They’ll be bringing home from vacation.
Giotto’s Campanile seemed manly from the outside,
Its shoulders squared against the distant mountains,
But its winding stairs betrayed an inner sadness,
That worried my intent to see the skyline.
The streets of Florence fairly simmer in the sunset.
I crossed the Ponte Vecchio to get across the Arno.
Three happy Italians splashing barefoot in the fountain
Remind me I’m a long, long way from home.
feelings flood my mind as I speed,
at many thousand miles air flow,
hope is dwindling, would I succeed?
could be a case of touch and go!
white clouds look on quite helplessly,
jittering firefly rumbles low,
left engine smokes perilously,
landing it would be touch and go.
four hundred lives could well be lost,
peaks of mountains covered in snow,
fear and doubt loom, better think fast,
to get across is touch and go!
past the mountains, riding on prayers,
I turn a corner circle slow,
good pilots must be good stayers,
hope in heart but still touch and go.
few miles down, see flickering lights,
runway ahead, bright dots in row,
I slant the wings, ground in my sights,
land!!! Thank God for helping me so!!
Premium contest winner (8)
Written 02/April/2021
This or that Vol 1 contest
Touch and go topic
Edward Ibeh sponsored
8 syllables each line
Poem by: Piet Mashele
2sides
Titled : getting the get
This is the same mindset that has to be on! for a couple of days,
If you in your head its a hustle and it hurts you to wake up with a smile then Sir pony boy the bank will settle your print outs with exactly! what you give out!
Sigh of relief is to get fired up and down
So that when they clear their throats! they know ,you were only getting the get across.
As I watch the river of my life flow by
Some areas seem to flow quite fast
Those times when I begin to ask why
All those hard times within my past.
Some times in my life were very tough
Not sure how I'd ever made it through
At times I'd had more than enough
During those times, God sent me you
You laid yourself down just for me
A bridge for me to get across
The tumultuous waters that we all see
Those times of heartache and loss
And even when my life is easy and flows free
I know you will always be there for me
5/17/2020
As I walk along the wooden boards
Flanked by firm railings,
I wonder how they used to cross
From mainland to castle,
Back when the bridge was
Stone and roughly-hewn wood.
The waves crash upon the rocks below,
Tide eddying into Merlin’s Cave.
Did they risk wind and raging storm
To get across with a message for the king?
Did they shelter on the main land,
Waiting for calmness to invite them in?
Tintagel… the remains tell only a tiny,
Practical part of the story.
What of the myth, the rumours, the history?
What of the dealings in the western outpost
For trade and travellers from afar?
We can never know the legend’s truth.
The mystery draws
Crowds to this centre
With magical depths and history.
I cross the sturdy bridge,
Wanting more than quotidien reality
To live on in the rocks beneath my feet.
The romance of this mythical place
Stirs my heart to feel
A yearning, a longing,
To become more than just
A person, a visitor, a tourist-
To be one with the myth.
To dissolve my life of
Petty daily needs and wants,
To emerge, a warrior, a maiden,
A minstrel, a foreign trader,
Or a simple visitor to the
Court of King Arthur.
All it is is yelling
To one another loudly
No one is listening
These words don't
get across
To argue is pointless
No one is right
There is no winner
Just talk it out
Means 24 hours of silence
Except for occasional calls.
Calls that are ended with
"I'm just too busy now."
Means not wanting to eat
And worse, always eating alone.
The food is tasteless or in a bag,
Just tastes like an old rag
Means your pet shares your heartbreak,
But just can't talk to you.
They can't help you when you fall,
That's why we wear alert buttons
We are told it's our "all!"
Means hard to get across the room,
Fear of crashing down the stairs.
But you can drive all day, they say...
Talking to yourself all the way!
Human contact by email only?
Saying, really nothing
Except those cold harsh words
Sent by my iPad.
No! it did not.
What iPad Pays the bill?
An iPad is not human at all
It's a technological wall.
Where hearts can't touch
And people hide their lives
Some older~live through movies..news!
Ignoring the technological ruse!
That humanity can't exist
Hiding from one another, bemused.
It was alive in an earlier episode,
but it now lies dead in the road.
Nocturnal in habit,
the creature is not a rabbit,
nor is it a raccoon or a toad.
The carcass gives off a putrid smell.
Nobody can deny it stinks like hell.
When it tried to get across,
its effort was a loss.
No longer does that dead skunk dwell.
With Trump Hard To Communicate
With Trump, it is hard to communicate,
And get across to him so we can relate;
Refuses to read;
Bull will feed;
Himself always does like to congratulate.
You can always see him applauding himself
when he claps his own hands.
Jim Horn
What we really were seeking,
Is how to determine if Deacon
Tiny critter,
In the liter;
Of hope is both ray and beacon.
Jim Horn
While my horse was gallantly gallivanting,
Soon out of breath, he had been panting,
And did die;
Don't know why;
Damp daisies on grave we will be planting.
James Horn
What I know is if in God you do believe,
A beautiful grand daughter will receive,
At you smiling;
Never beguiling;
Who you, she will never want to leave.
Jim Horn
Interest in Trump he never does capture;
Want to love or leave in state of rapture;
A big pain;
Causing much strain;
Our feeling is likewise we know for sure.
Jim Horn
Don't write a song and sing of politics
Or tell me what happen the world today
Try to keep from using clever word tricks
To get across what you want to say
Sing a song for me of the sun risin'
Over distant trees shinning up yonder
Rhyme the color of sunset horizon
As I enjoy a treasure wonder
Sing about someone so special you met
That brought the sunshine bright streaming day
Write the words and tell never will you let
One so special ever get away
Create a tune so we can sing along
Give it a title easy pleasing song
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