There once was a girl of young age
Who wanted so much to engage
Her boyfriend's attention
I wanted to mention
This is not a room, but a stage
Youthful airs come and gone
turning heads for all the wrong reasons
painfully desperate to attract attention
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
This advertisement by ETSY is inappropriate. It depicts a greeting card of a man getting excited down there. And it crosses the line in the sand of what's decent and what's not. This picture is definitely distasteful and sexually suggestive, especially on a site that promotes its self as being family friendly.
It's like I'm visiting a public beach that's sunny and always family friendly and are suddenly blindsided by the dark clouds of nude bathers.
It's not right. It's not right for the kids. It's not right period.
A disapproving voice(s) is needed here so this complaint weighs on PS' conscious, where the decision is totally up to them to allow their cash cow to frolic in a meadow of immorality or to censor the picture.
It's in their hands.
But I hope they use the same morality as they do in censoring a list of banned poet's word, which in my opinion pales in comparison to that picture.
connie pachecho
3/29/25
Note-I thought about enclosing the image of the greeting card but it falls under PS terms of conditions that doesn't allow pornographic cartoons ... the irony. A train wreck will do.
inappropriate
humor of senility
super-silly-ous
not the super-serious
first aid for friend and his wife
inappropriate
words escape my lips....
rutabaga pared
his stare sending chills up my spine
AP: 3rd place 2025
When we were young,
Some of our toys could have been confiscated,
Just for thinking about using them to harm others for real,
Or if we brought them out and did not share,
When our friends were around.
Now we are adults,
And only a few of us left who remember when this was so,
Fewer still who thinks it was wise,
After the event,
Fewer yet who will stand against the incoming tide,
And voice their gratitude in public,
For lessons learned at no cost of life.
As I look around at the growing list of those taken before their time,
I am haunted by the yet unanswered Question,
Will those that are so few be enough,
To to turn back the tide that is now swirling above the ankles of so many
adults,
All because when they were children, no toy was taken,
Until they learned its proper use?
Or will the god that I believe in,
Take away all the adult toys,
We haven't a clue, how to use appropriately?
I think not, as he gave us our free will,
For better or worse,
Which leaves us with the few who still believe,
To confiscate, to educate and keep humans in the race.
Steve was hoping that on Valentine's Day
That he’d be lucky and he’d get a lay
He thought very hard
And purchased a card...
‘In loving memory’ it did say!
His girlfriend hit him over the head
She ordered him - get out of the bed!
When she read the sad verse
Her anger got much worse
Silly Steve now wished that he was dead!
13th February 2016
It is the evening I have waited for,
stiletto heels three inches high adorned my feet,
real nylons hung from garters beneath a
skin tight, leather skirt of maraschino cherry-red.
A blouse of white silk, with a cascade of ruffles,
played peek-a-boo with my décolletage.
Outdoors, the rain pounded the asphalt
making the reality of his arrival even more bizarre.
A Harley barrels into the driveway.
Apparently, he thinks
he is Marlon Brando
and I am Stella?
I stand on the porch, a black umbrella
covering my new do, and watch as he
saunters through the puddles on the concrete walk.
The color of the umbrella my only
non-incongruent element in the frame, the scene made.
His smile was like a box of Chiclet's
on his clean shaven face.
He kisses me.
I lick the raindrop
from the tip of his Roman nose
and take hold of his Russian fingers.
He tosses my umbrella on the porch,
throws his black leather jacket over my shoulders,
lifts me off my feet, and carries me to the bike.
The sun breaks through the clouds and the rain stops,
just in time for the neighbors to glare at the sight of my legs
reflecting on the bikes chrome work.
Shake their respective heads
and donate a few wolf whistles.
Our eighteen-year old daughter
Is lying comatose in the ICU
After a nearly fatal car crash.
My husband and I are driving to
A friend's house to leave ourve our
Thirteen-year old twins in her care
While I spend the day in the hospital
The road to the friend's house
Is at the top of a steep hill.
The road turns now this way, now that.
My husband keeps some cigars
on top of the dashboard.
As we clumb the hill,
Centrifugal force
Send the cigars sliding from side to side.
When the cigars slide my way,
My husband says, "Have a cigar."
The cigars then slide back to his side
And I say "No, thanks, I just had one.
They slide towards me again and he says,
"Well, have another."
We dissolve into helpless laughter,
Realizing how insane we sound,
Driven there by the possibility
That our child could die.
To think about that,
Is more than we can bear.
So we wrap ourselves in laughter
As a balm against a possibility
We dare not contemplate.
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