The rest of us
could never compete
Roosters strut
sadly behind
with unnoticed
orange hackles
Pheasants scratch
at the dirt
He ruins rainbows
with feathered ego
and metallic iridescence
We all guffaw
because we don’t know
what to do
Turquoise plumage
always wins
Psalm 69:3 ~ "I am weary of my crying: my throat is dried: mine eyes fail while I wait for my God."
tears fall broken
pain unspoken
dealing feelings raw
tears can't drown
my anguish down
lachrymal guffaw
eyes bleary
soul weary
emotions run high
enveloped by sadness
bleakness and blackness
life's a teary dreary sigh
He foils all jokes, punchlines and jocularity
He foils all contrary philosophies in hilarity
He's sarcastic and sardonic, he's even ironic
Soon to be iconic and witted supersonic
He stands for absolute truth, this trailer trash sleuth
Rap Reynolds is his name, giving noogies is his game
This spark started in a trailer park
Conceived to be, and to leave his mark
A foiler of all who attempt comedy
And the outcome (for them) is a tragedy
All those who claim contrariness will be slain
He will counteract the bane of the vain
Spoiler alert The Foiler has come to foil the plans
Ready, aim, fire and all the funny business dying with a laugh
Oh no it seems every time an Eighties tune is played
(Within earshot) I transport instantly to that time and space
And for every knee slapper there is a counteract-er
He never went to college and he'll steal all your musical knowledge
P.S. Does he chortle and guffaw at every flaw
Is he witty and urbane towards the lines that are flubbed
Nah he just needs his tummy rubbed
And even though she is in a different dimension
He thinks a lot of Emma Bankz, she's his cardinal direction
Not on your nelly is telly better than laughs from your belly
That roar rocks you to the core before long you’ve a sore jaw
Stand up tour or panto to the fore has always worked before
Not just one more but an encore in store of many a guffaw
Pure & raw soul does soar but appreciate I’m no Shelley
Feeling down through thick and thin then best way to begin
Wriggle from a frown your mouth wiggles become a giggle
Head in a spin again after too much time with your ken & kin
Things get under your skin it’s not a sin to well crack a grin
Tipple & tucker don’t buckle me ol mucker succour to suckle
No sandwich of the knuckle nothing as pukka as a chuckle
While we all know the best denial to rile vile bile in style
A sage’s way to turn the page engage with road rage
To bewitch & beguile for a wee while is well just to smile
After a rafter of everything dafter whether grafter or drafter
Din of chagrin within a guffaw, smile, giggle, chuckle, grin
Will always win as it is shoe in the best medicine’s laughter
Why, in a haunted house, do we scream?
We know that the monsters are mechanized.
We know that the bumps are all oversized.
We know things are not what they seem.
Why, in that haunted house, do we chuckle?
We’re bombarded with bright lights, loud screams,
thumps and bumps; we imagine extremes
but know it’s all fake as we grip the belt buckle.
Why, in our own home, when we hear creaking,
don’t we cry or guffaw, but instead
we tiptoe, gasp and believe the undead
and the zombified trespasser come softly sneaking.
Why, when the horror and terror aren’t real,
Do we shriek with delight, while thrilled to the bone?
Why, when we know that we’re really alone,
Are panic and dread the emotions we feel?
A FAIR PAIR
Willy the worm would want to wiggle
Just a joke joining in with joyful jiggle
Gaity I guess, giving guffaw or giggle
Delighted to dig and dive down deep
Why one would wish to walk or weep
Continually checking, caution to keep
As surface security seldom seems safe
Worried to wander as a whining waif
Choices change, yet chancing to chafe
Stop being silly, Sam Snail softly said
I’m slimy and I slither slowly instead
However heavy to hold I have a head
No shame sheltering in a shiny shell
I’ll try to tempt you with tales to tell
Quiet questioning quite easy to quell
My mistake made if I’m mild or meek
Supposing no special space to speak
Being breakfast in a blackbird’s beak
None need know any new unknowns
Both born blind, bare with no bones
Grudgingly, grinds grates and groans
Great, gradually going underground
So silent, simply still sensing no sound
Finer feelings of fairness finally found
Basically being what a bare belly begs
Dripping not drowning, draining dregs
Laughing’s allowed, even lacking legs
A haunting comes unexpected,
perhaps that’s the delicious draw;
Strolling the woods with a guffaw,
nature’s buzz leaves you elated;
Every sense may seem upended,
red bared skin on your wrist is raw;
A haunting comes;
Your pulse has become upgraded
put into pace by a chainsaw;
The blood curdling scream’s first law:
‘Leave all their calm devastated.’
A haunting comes.
that Friday feeling calls near noon
with thoughts of lager capped by foam
and dreams this work-day will end soon
which gives your mind a mood to roam
to favored joints, where with the guys
you joke, guffaw, and swig cold beer
until a soft glance meets your eyes,
inviting you to swagger near
and, with bravado, take a chance
to learn her name is Betty-Lou
and yes, indeed, she'd love to dance;
this precious, lovely dream-come-true
melts in your arms when music slows,
allowing hands to learn each curve
while floral scent enthralls your nose,
imbuing you with manly nerve
to hand-in-hand flee into night
where moon peeps down on newfound bliss
and giddy hearts take sudden flight
when lips approach to share a kiss
but garlic-breathing boss looms near,
you shake awake, return alive,
are bull's-eye of his nasal sneer:
"the weekend, Clown, don't start till five!"
As a young child I fondly recall
tuning into Desi Arnez and Lucille Ball.
Their chemistry was great and brought
many a guffaw.
Lucy always stumbled in to comical pitfalls,
which culminated in to marital quarrels.
Desi's broken English, always saying,
"Lucy, you got to do some s plaining."
Yet there's nothing funny nor deserving
of a rhyme when one recalls T's presidency
and the rise of hate crimes..
The threats to volunteers who worked at
our polls nor to Mr. Pelosi's tragic hammer blows..
The January 6th attack on our Capitol police,
many still badly traumatized, several now deceased.
Mr. D. Trump has the audacity to want another reigning.
It's time for his MAGA buddies to "do some s plaining."
His
love to
me is dead.
I scoff at it,
for it was nothing.
Had it any value,
I might place it as if it
were a trinket inside my chest
of treasures. Many came before him.
Others will trail behind his empty steps.
Those footsteps – like a ghost’s – have all vanished.
How can a ghost even have footsteps?
As I think more about him now,
I swallow a big guffaw.
He is not even worth
a tiny chuckle,
so how can I
even mock
my dead
love.
Don’t stifle laughter.
Many great things such as happiness or relief
come after.
Enjoy a gaffe!
It can even lessen your grief
to laugh.
Guffaw
for some relief.
HA.
Don’t stifle laughter.
It can lessen your grief.
HA!
It’s not so difficult to enjoy this awesome life.
Now that we are here, why look for grief or strife?
Strife will come, but there is so much more that life can be.
Why not live it with love and laughter. Live life vibrantly!
Awaken and embrace each new day with awe.
Smile a lot, and if you hear a juicy joke – guffaw!
Leave your heartstrings open to be played just like a song.
Accept those who annoy you, and make your love be strong.
Learn from your mistakes so that you might grow,
remembering that you are sure to reap whatever you sow.
Have gratitude, faith and hope; and always give and give!
Yes, live life with vibrancy, and happily you’ll live.
March 20, 2023
For Unseeking Seeker's Now That We Are Here Poetry Contest
Mom drives us to our Auntie’s farm
so we can run and play.
She thinks it will be no harm
for us to spend the day.
Muriel Mule sings hee-haw,
and we all clap our hands.
It was fun to laugh and guffaw
since we are her greatest fans.
Daphne Duck quacks in glee
while Gary Gander flaps his wings.
Prissy Pig and Gabby Goat agree
to dance when Randy Rooster sings.
Emma Emu sways her head.
Anna Alpaca is spitting.
We call her rude until Auntie said
“For her, it is quite fitting.”
We spent the day with our friends
until it was time to go home.
Mom says we'll come on weekends,
if we’re sweet as honeycomb.
The reunion that caused all of the zany brouhaha
From a family kerfuffle with one humorless raw flaw
It all went down quite swiftly, in a quick split lickety
And ended outside in the hedges most thorn thickety
A tray of food put cattywampus on the table by papa
Slipped and fell in by our taradiddle called mama
She was always a snip uppity and pinch or two persnickety
Especially toward mad uncle Ed who's getting old and rickety
As she landed on her derriere he let out a great guffaw
We chuckled and chortled but soon saw our big faux paw
She hurled everything at us from cups to fence white pickety
We dodged and ran fast as we can it was quite a sticky wickety
Flabbergasted brother Bob signaled to hurry with a caw caw
Grampa ran by gramma and pinched her rump with Ooh la la
She caught us all with a sprightly jump, hop and a skippety
And threw us in that hedge like a wild flibbertigibbety
This tale may be strewn with yickety yak and blah blah blah
But that's how ma and pa caused all that wacky brouhaha
January 28, 2023
Writing challenge B word poetry contest
Sponsor Constance La France
Theme : Brouhaha
Have you ever felt from a song
A song that reminded you how you can live
The rush of the wind, the desire to climb
A quickly-building monument to the beauty of creation
How quickly a mood changes with a play
The sorrow of loss, a lament to the sky
for what was not lost to you
what you may never be lucky enough to lose
A mournful numbness, a malady of words, a sea to be swallowed by
An arrogant strut behind what they have done and claim to do
A hyperactive child in a candy store
An invitation to someone else's moment, a happy party
A strut in saying something how it is, sauntering up to your boss's reddened face
A spontaneous guffaw from a line so out of place
A dance in a language you cannot understand
Siphoned emotions from founts
Some people urging you to drink from
Some urging you to bathe and not drink, to not feel
Some that were left and coyly watched
Some that were abandoned
Some that were trapped in amber
How could where we live, where we choose to drink, not say a lot about us?
Such a pure crystallization of what is so slippery to say
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