Short Rube Poems

Two layers in hand,
Misplaced colors offer no plan,
No exit, imagine!...

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Hey Rude, it ain't all that bad
Take a sad song and make it glad
Beatles had it down pat
Now Jacko wears the hat
Giggling till a respirator they had to add...

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My dear darling Rube,
Just think, if you were
smokin' a doob
The poetic miles you could cross...
Yet your talent is there,
And I know just how rare
And I know that you care,
And now for words, I am at a  loss. 

Thanks, your fan, tom...

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Rubik’s cube:
six faces,
nine tiles per

Sort out so
colors, sides are
uniform

The rubric?
No clue here…
Cubic rube

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Another tricube, naturally. I was a candidate for the "Cube Smasher" back when they were sold... Could work them, but never quickly, and always seemed to mess up as I got close to a solution...

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If you are going to clone a clown you need a giant test tube.
This was stated by my ignoramous of a cousin, we call Rube.
He ordered the biggest one that a Prime truck could deliver.
I believe I will name my full-grown circus clown Mr. Sliver.
Why do you encourage him? Asked his mother’s cousin Roan.
“When he’s wasting time with this stuff,” she said “he leaves me alone”...

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I write a thousand words a day
Thinking up new things to say
Existing just below You all
Living high-up on "The Wall"

I always think, what will it take
For me to be-come less opaque
For them to know, I'm not a rube
And have MY FACE placed in a cube

Perhaps it's better now, to stay
beneath "The Wall" and write my way
Humbled by this awesome group
While crying in My Social Soup

Lol, I'm just happy to be read------really...

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I don't like Sunday night
  It doesn't like me
It's the end of the weekend
  which doesn't fill me with glee

Tomorrow morning begins
  the workweek's dull grind
that some just can't wait for
  but which I really mind

My last hours of freedom
  couch potato-ing the tube ~
What the 'H' am I doing 
  I'm such a dumb rube

C'mon, let's go out
  We'll paint the town red
After all, the next weekend
  is just five days ahead...

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She comes in colors.
Rearranges herself at will.
Masterful pen.
And a mind never still.

As imaged in my mind,
The Rube with a doob
in her left hand
Merlot in her right,
Penning her heart out,
All through the night...

Artist painting with words,
Colors she invents herself,
Every now and then a little humor,
Like a mischievous elf...

And so many love her,
And so glad she is back...
Especially me,
This old poetic hack....

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