Short Stickler Poems

stickler 
for rules 
stick 
up ass 
strictness 
rigidity 
not a 
good 
match 
not the
right 
fit 
going 
to create
unneeded
problems...

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Wow, if I were a celebrity tickler
I’d start with Miss Kelly Pickler
I’d tickle her face
Or in any old place
But finding her? That is the stickler...

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autumn winds echo
through bare trees in darkness --
Grandpa whistles


By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
fifth place in Charles Henderson's Strictly a Stickler for Strictness
Haiku contest...

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her lips quiver
without making a sound...
funeral song



© kashinath karmakar 2012
====================

Placement:1st ;(March 2012)

Contest:Strictly a Stickler for Strictness (haiku)

Sponsor:Charles Henderson...

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Mottled black and white rooster stood proud on his sled
Can he do handstands and back flips? Asked his cousin Ned.
He could but he won’t, his sister, a rule stickler said.
The rooster listened to all of these expectations with dread....

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Mottled black and white rooster stood proud on his sled
Can he do handstands and back flips? Asked his cousin Ned.
He could but he won’t, his sister, a rule stickler said.
The rooster listened to all of these expectations with dread....

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Bess’s expressions were grotesque
Most usually weirdly cheerless
She is under unusual duress
Her family is an utter mess

Bess is playing poker more or less
Her deadpan expression not needless
A stickler for rules more or less
My watercress-loving friend named Bess...

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time is messy
gooey like molasses
sticky especially if you are a stickler for it
I choose to ignore it
pretending it is a fly caught on a glue strip
others race to please time
wanting it to rule them
I get a kick out of their frenzied belief in time
but do not buy into it
time is messy...

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Standing beside the pots and pans,
the pretty girl was full of life
and had the look of 'far to go',
but green tee-shirt was much too tight.

Standing beside the pots and pans,
maybe she'll never escape those,
but if she's a stickler for shirt too tight,
heaven only knows.





9/28/2015...

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She is a perfectibilan Paula said
I laughed so hard, I hurt my head
No one is more of a perfectionist than she
Probably why she can never find an appropriate he

I am not kidding, everything in her world is precise
Her kitchen and bathroom are immaculate, which is nice
But she’s as much a perfectibilan as anyone
A stickler for exactness from sundown to sun...

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I bring her red and white carnations 
"Roses," she says, "only roses. Valentine's tradition."
Breezy pressure of non-acceptance
Words that flatten me like a dull sermon
Squirm inducing to understand what I'm up against
Commands that taste like salt
Re-booting the rhythm of ritual
Re-framing an approach to love
For however long the florist remains open












Poem composed: February 16, 2021
Revised: April 18, 2021...

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