Last night...
I was just about to hit the sack
when my wall said, "I'm about to crack.
I might need some plaster
to prevent untold disaster."
I said...
"Your problems are mere window dressing.
Mine are much more pressing.
We're all stretched a little thin.
Suck in your gut and lift up your chin."
A caterpillar hit the sack -
in a chrysalis, as a matter of fact.
One day, it would crack,
and he could no longer doze.
As the sun rose up the sky,
a transformed creature said, "My oh my -
I feel it's time for me to fly",
and donned his fine new clothes.
I put on my shoes and socks
and gazed at my walnut music box,
and remembered a nut I tried to crack,
all day long, before I hit the sack.
I had tried to open it, but it stayed shut,
So, I said, "You really are a nut".
Of course, it's nuts just like these,
that you find growing on walnut trees.
Wouldn't it be funny if that little guy
grew into a walnut tree to the sky,
and a clockmaker in the neighborhood,
made a music box from its walnut wood?
I went to bed and thought some more,
but before I could begin to snore,
My music box began to play
"The Unquiet Grave", as dead I lay.
Once upon a time, in a town not far from here,
on a day that was not bright, on a day that was not clear,
a boy was born, and the newspaper would say,
"It was a partly cloudy day."
Everybody said, "What an odd little feller".
So, one day, his mother took him to the fortune teller,
but she only said as she drew up her shawl,
"Suddenly, I have a partly cloudy ball."
He met her in the morning, early in the Spring,
and by and by, offered her a diamond ring,
but true love once more eluded -
the gem he gave was cloudy and occluded.
His heart was not broken. It just had a little crack.
He sighed and went home early. Then he hit the sack.
He didn't shed a tear or even cry -
he just blinked upon each partly cloudy eye.
In his head, he puzzled as he lay awake,
but life to him seemed hopelessly opaque,
and his confusion would enshroud
a mind partially covered by a cloud.
The years, one by one, eventually passed
by the bloke known for nothing but being overcast.
I'm sad to report that he died just yesterday.
The paper said, "It was a partly cloudy day".
When love is smooth and runs in tune,
young couples gaze up at the moon,
but before or when they hit the sack,
love sometimes goes out of whack.
So, take care when you play with fire,
that love does not go all haywire.
Regard " Those Good Old Days?'
Bring smiles in own ways,
Writing a book, Any Excuse,
Need my GSOH a'loose.
Went to football in past stage,
Good book, turn each page,
"The umpire's a cheat!"
"Yep, our goals incomplete!"
"Game plan's still the same!"
"Yes, our coach is to blame!"
"Let's go home!"
"Yeah, home we'll roam!"
"Leaving already?" Crowd roar,
"Spit the dummy, game's a bore!"
"See you next week!"
"At next game we'll peek,
Smiling now, I hit the sack,
Ignore football, top lifehack,
Well, that was a long book,
"Those Good Old Days, worth a sook!
Need a vacation from my vacation
Crystal bridges best in the nation.
four hours in the car both there and back.
Upon returning home, had to hit the sack.
recommend this art gallery to you all.
Alice Walton’s dream, better go in the Fall.
Something exciting to do in every single room.
Experience you cannot get from video or Zoom.
AFTER THE PARTY
After the party I awoke on a desert island
At least I thought so, with the blinding sun
And a view of all those swaying palm trees
Well, perhaps it was me who was swaying
My head was thumping as if bongos playing
And wet with sweat at over eighty degrees
I guess that last night must have been fun
But just where I am now, I don’t understand
Perhaps it’s the Tahitian picture on the wall
And the bright morning sun is streaming in
I am wearing my underpants front to back
Probably a game, or a sort of joke on me
But is that the ocean out there that I can see
Maybe it was daybreak before I hit the sack
So many cocktails made with pink hued gin
It’s such a pity I cannot think straight at all
There’s still noisy laughter outside in the hall
Just the usual cheap upper floor motel room
It may be my own, I suppose I should check
My mouth is so dry and my head is spinning
Have I been drunk from the very beginning
But is this a floral garland around my neck
It can only be my vivid imagination, I assume
I’m not on an exotic tropical island after all
I'm your recall demon and alas, I am back
This Halloween be wary when you hit the sack
For that night while you're dreaming
I'll have you wake up screaming
But for five bowls of Snickers, I might not attack!
H/T "Factory Recall" by Jeff Kyser
Written 10/26/22
Camping on the sandy shore of the beach
Getting bored by the waves and their screech
Sitting around the camp after cooking out
It was so much fun just talking at our hangout
Soon, we noticed a couple who were fighting
Across the beach in a house we were sighting
They were making trip after trip up the stairs
We all knew this battle wasn’t one of our affairs
Still we watched from our place in our lawn chairs
Not much caring that it was darkening their tears
We watched for hours and heard their angry shouts
When we finally hit the sack it was midnight or thereabouts
While we laughed and hooted at the wife’s victory
That husband was bellowing that this was contradictory
Never would we forget that vacation with its entertainment
During our monotony on the beach this was our sustainment
Favorite Vacation Contest
Sponsored by: L MILTON HANKINS
February 3, 2022
my friend is thorough
doing things he has his way…
praise is what he wants
He is a perfectionist, not a crack,
each night before starting to stride the track
he enters the washroom
to diligently groom,
returns to find his wife has hit the sack.
he has turned into narcissus, carrying his marriage on the rocks
__________________
January 30, 2022
Syllable count checked on PS Counter
Contest : Charlie Hai-Lim-Ku
Sponsored By : Charles Messina
Christmas bells, can you hear them ringing?
All night long: carolers singing.
A magical night,
your eyes shut tight
waiting for Santa’s magic sleigh to land!
Penciled out: is the last day.
So tonight: is the right night.
And sleep seeds dreams,
with sugarplum themes,
waiting for Santa’s magic sleigh to land!
In the morning, we can open presents,
sharing smiles as they get passed around.
I'll ask, is one for me?
You'll say: yes, more than one:
but you must wait till Christmas morning.
So calm down,
dream of things you desire:
hang your socks by the fire.
Leave Santa a snack
then go hit the sack,
waiting for Santa’s magic sleigh to land!
In the morning, we can open presents,
sharing a smile that's passed around,
And we'll attend all the festive events,
at least the ones within our town.
On this eve, nerves are tingling.
Can you feel them?
In the air, bells are jingling.
A magical night,
your eyes shut tight
waiting for Santa’s magic sleigh to land!
Open the drawer you'll see a diary,
A wimpy kid full of anxiety,
Lean frame meek face all I got,
but I strolled blithely.
The first page got my expensive dreams covered,
A trip to the Alps in the shimmery Swiss summer,
then hike the Mont Blanc and write some for her,
sitting on the rocks sipping mild liquor,
tongue-in-cheek, whimsical humor.
On that note please turn over to the next page,
chips n antenna never held my gaze,
too late to pull out I must stay,
I must say,
I might pull this one off,
else my achievements be measured by a length gauge.
A grave predicament I'm stuck in,
maybe I need to do something,
maybe I need to be fronting,
but nothing surprises me anymore,
seeds I sowed shall be reaped come forth.
Page three demands me to rise above obscurity,
scale heights not meant to be,
Rake opulence not meant for me,
As right as rain, I want things to be.
For now, I'll hit the sack with a twinge of guilt,
cause I dreamt of things far ahead of me.
My horse prances.
And she dances,
As she spins around
She looks graceful
And so tasteful
Her hooves hardly touch the ground
Her long eyelashes
She seductively flashes
As she lifts gently in the air
Her thick mane flowing
From a breeze that's blowing
She dances without care.
She is captivating.
Her audience is waiting,
For her to thrill them more.
The horse is tiring
The crowd desiring
For just one more encore,
A moment to ponder,
As away out yonder,
Voices are calling out
They sound worried,
Anxious and flurried,
Then they begin to shout.
"Daisy, where are you?"
We have all been searching,
Since a quarter past two
We need you to come home, old girl,
It's time to be fed.
From the distance
Daisy heard the call.
What a time she had
entertaining one and all.
She curtsied to her audience,
Then she made a bow.
Then she said, "I am sorry folks,
I have to leave you now,
I hope you enjoyed my performance,
I shall be coming back.
I am feeling tired,
I'm going home to hit the sack."
My childhood friend lived in a different city,
him I hadn’t met for long, that seemed an eternity.
A year before he rang up to say he’d one day come,
we’d revive the old memories over warm rum.
He came on the day he promised he would,
I found him in all smiles with a happy mood.
As he appeared from behind the winter mist,
we felt how much of each other we missed.
He didn’t enter my house right then, however,
said he’d return after finishing the work, whenever.
I waited until at the dead of night I hit the sack,
but strangely my friend didn’t come back.
Perturbed, I went to his place to solve the riddle,
found with my query the wrecked wife trying to fiddle,
said, he died a year ago, but hadn’t really gone away,
with spooky feeling I ran out, a word I couldn’t say.
October 8, 2021
Contest : Something Spooky 8 To 16 Lines
Sponsor : Tania Kitchin
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