A POEM MADE UP OF CLICHES
At Poetry Soup we're admonished
Never to use cliches
They provide us an extensive list
For the error of our ways
But one thing you can rely on
Is people just don't pay heed
Like a dog gnawing a ham bone
Poets write stuff unfitten to read
Over and over again
I traverse the road less traveled
No one understands me
I feel worn to a frazzle
When all is said and done
I'll just wish upon a star
Or perhaps I'll follow the sun
And hope I don't go too far
Since fools rush in
Where angels fear to trod
And people get under my skin
I'll go by the grace of God
When life takes an unexpected twist
And you're plagued by a multitude of sin
Not making money hand over fist
Misery loves company and broken hearts never mend
You have reached the end of your rope
Tired of waiting for your ship to come in
Don't sit around and mope
'Cause you have fences to mend
Curtis Moorman
30 November 2018
It's the big day of the big yard sale
Where every thing must go
There was much to much to haul out to the front
So I opened up the home
There were gobs of people everywhere
Wandering around with arms packed full
I'm making money hand over fist
This idea was really cool
You see my neighbors came to me with their front door key
And asked if I'd watch Binkie their cat
While they spent a few days away, I said sure what the hey
So they showed me where everything Binkie was at
While they were gone Binkie got bored
He missed his masters who were out of town
I thought a yard sale would be just the thing, Binkie purred that'd be neat
And of course it brought Binkie's good mood back around
Now before you start thinking bad thoughts of me
And wonder how anyone could sell everything they had
I want you to know I had a slight twinge of guilt
Right before I sold Binkie the cat
Bye, Bye Binkie Bye, Bye ;0)
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