Your rough tongue cleansing
my finger.
You, the queen of Calico
humdingers!
Those flashing green eyes that
evoke my love each night.
Staring down from your
soft feline height.
How I adore the ways you
make my heart dance.
When you slumber on me, my
heart, settles down to an
opal, moonlit trance...
December 3, 2024
The wordsmith’s art is a game of chance,
Where meanings dance and ideas trance.
A deft hand wields the pen with grace
A subtle symphony, a nimble chase.
From arcane whispers, and secrets told,
To audacious strokes, both bold and old.
An amiable muse, with a gentle heart,
Inspiring words that tear apart.
A clandestine plot, a cunning scheme,
With boisterous laughs and jovial gleam.
Words ebb and flow, a vibrant tide,
Capricious, and whimsical, they cannot hide.
Some dance with flair, with eloquent might,
While others fade, ephemeral in the light.
An egregious error, a poignant plea,
An insidious plot, a symphony.
We seek the luminous, the serendipitous find,
A moment of joy, to soothe the mind.
With cunning wit and a sly remark,
A raucous laugh, a playful spark.
Through boisterous humdingers, and shenanigans,
A wistful sigh, or a sweet, mawkish stance.
The playwright’s art, a dance so grand,
A poignant twist, with a skilful hand.
Let us savour this exquisite game,
Where words intertwine, an artful flame.
So open your heart, let language soar,
The play of words, forever!
Here we are already in April
it’s time for new predictions
A word of warning first
I used to write science fiction
My first one’s a lulu
a real humdinger
I predict that Hilary Clinton
will become a soap opera singer
The second one’s more risky
it may land in the sand
But I envision Colin Kaepernick as a hirsute
majorette with a baton in his hand
Now for my final prediction
Please hang on to your hat
AOC's running for the Oval Office
~ dressed as a calico cat …
'Course, none of these fantasies will ever come true
You've read my science fiction; I’ll never fool you
A Bo'sun in the pub was wheezing
From Wanda Mann's underhand teasing
An organist by trade
And accomplished milkmaid
Her fingers were quite busy squeezing
The Bo'sun recalled a sperm whale
That spouted away in a gale
Wanda knew how whales blow
And performed it just so
The Bo'sun would buy her more ale
The Bo'sun was never a sinner
And saw her a champion winner
He took her for wife
She took up her knife
And swallowed his sausage for dinner
The Bo'sun now lies underground
His widow is fooling around
Like an octopus
She will grab men thus
Explaining she's on the rebound
A widow must have food to eat
A sausage is filled up with meat
Just one dram of rum
And seamen will come
To give Wanda a cream-filled treat
But the Bo'sun's fate still lingers
Like Wanda's octopus fingers
'Tis said on her plate
She'd resuscitate
A galley of real humdingers
Now the Bo'sun's fate took a toll
On many a poor seaman's soul
When out on a date
Remember their fate
Keep your sausage out of the roll!
kissing sunshine
Praising God Now
one more exit and i'm here now
i am facing my last fear now
i may even drink a beer now
through the smiling forest of life i go
my flaws have made me stronger this i know
tapping blue skies on her derrierre
G.A.P., God Answers Prayers
here she comes with all her virtuosity
i now have no curiosity
through the grinning ocean of life i go
my mistakes have made me stronger this i know
many humdingers came with lessons learned
through it all my mind's more deeply churned
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