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Terry Mullally Poem
I spilled my coffee, on my new suede shoes.
Then I panicked, because the stain would profuse.
Then I noticed, that the stain would blend in.
If I added more coffee, to the parts that were thin.
Only one shoe was affected, but it got way too dark.
So I applied more coffee, to the other shoe, on a lark.
Now, my shoes are the same color, or so it seems.
But, now they seem to clash, with my new blue jeans.
So, my feet smell like coffee, an improvement, to be sure.
I should be more careful, when it's coffee that I pour.
When my wife saw me, she said: uummm. Smell that coffee.
And I say, No, that's just my shoes,
I spilled my coffee, and the odor profused.
She said, that's nothing, my feet smell like hot chocolate.
But that is another story, that started in her pocket.
Copyright © Terry Mullally | Year Posted 2018
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Terry Mullally Poem
Through the pines, stands your white lofty peak.
Blue sky and white clouds, art thou's for-seek.
Over the lake, your reflection is cast.
Like a shadow, from out of the past.
Smaller spires, raise skyward to seek....
The big white cloud, surrounding your peak.
What clearer picture, can we hope to see.
Just what happens, to nature's purest majesty.
Our life on earth, has many a scene.
But, none quite so great, none quite so keen.
Let's hope for peace, and let's hope it's, non-stop.
And let's hope that someday, you don't blow your top.
Copyright © Terry Mullally | Year Posted 2018
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Terry Mullally Poem
I know not of iambic pentameter,
I don’t even know my own diameter.
And when I travel about a mile,
I don’t know how much is a kilometer.
So I might be slightly confused,
About all those words, that I just used.
But when I think about other people’s folly,
Mine seem so trivial, and melon collie.
So when you’re confused,
about what word to use,
Take a lesson from me,
and look it up, in the dic tion ary.
Copyright © Terry Mullally | Year Posted 2018
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Terry Mullally Poem
Gamma Ray Bursts from the edge of space.
Collapsing black holes, without a trace?
Exploding stars from near and far.
Just what's in this big cookie jar?
Comet's tails, as long as can be.
This is what makes up, you and me?
Giant gas planets, that are starting to glow.
Separate solar systems, for all to show?
The speed of light, gone in a flash.
Then back again, we're starting to crash?
Here we are, safe and sound.
It's our space, how profound?
God's out there, watching the show.
Can we see him? How should we know?
Copyright © Terry Mullally | Year Posted 2018
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Terry Mullally Poem
Before his destination, he started to look back,
Almost believing, that he just wasn't on track...
He said: "Nothing looks familiar, so I must be lost".
"Or is this just the first time that I've been this way?"
Trying to remember, he became confused in the mist.
But, Just about that time, he heard something of a hiss.
He thought that it was a tire, starting to go flat...
That's when he heard, what sounded like a splat.
"No, that sound is coming from inside the car." He said with a jeer.
That's when he felt something, bite him on the rear.
Trying to control the car, and come to a stop,
he turned sideways, and landed on his top.
That's when he saw the snake slither away...
It crawled out the window, that was down part way.
Now, he's in a predicament, to be sure,
He needs a doctor, and he needs a cure.
He dialed 911 on his cell phone, and let out a scream.
Because that's when he saw the message:
"Out of Area", on his screen.
He said: "Oh well, nobody would suck
the poison out, anyway."
Trying to unbuckle his seat belt, he found that
it was too tight, as the blood rushes to his head,
he struggled with all his might.
So, he passed out, and continued to hang upside down,
and a little to the right.
Now, this position kept the poison from his heart...
as they took him to the hospital, upside down in a cart.
Copyright © Terry Mullally | Year Posted 2018
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Terry Mullally Poem
When I boot up, my screen starts to flash.
I’m thinking that, the hard drive might crash.
Then, strange grunting sounds, I start to hear.
And I’m hoping that, it’s not my worst fear.
My colors are streaky. My screen looks all freaky.
I’m all alone, and something is creaky.
I’m sure hoping my hard drive don’t crash.
But, something should happen, ‘cause I’m out of cash.
Moaning sounds coming from the box that’s oblique.
And I start to think, that’s it’s something unique.
Maybe it’s something, a technician could tweak.
Then, I’ll get it fixed, maybe later this week.
It’s starting to thunder, and I start to wonder,
What if it’s not over, but from down under.
What will I do, if my hard drive should crash.
Just when I happen, to be out of cash.
Copyright © Terry Mullally | Year Posted 2018
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Terry Mullally Poem
Our feather, which arent so heavy, hollow be thy frame.
Thy kingpin run, thy quill be done, on paper, with ink, for fame.
Give us this day our daily read
That will help us to inspire our head
And forgive us our transgressions, as we forgive those who
Transgress against us, but lead us not into frustration, but
Deliver us from suppression, for that is the reason,
for the Glory of the story, forever and ever Amen
Copyright © Terry Mullally | Year Posted 2019
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Terry Mullally Poem
I wanted a turkey, to my mom's delight.
But it was soon to become, my worst plight.
She said: you carve the bird, It's your turn, this year.
And that, just happened to be, my worst fear.
I took the knife, and grabbed on-to it's leg.
But the darn thing popped off, before I could beg...
Mom, "Are you sure..."
"Shut-up and cut", she said, with regret.
As I cut thru the pan, the juices were let...
Now I have a mess on the floor,
It's sticky, and runny,
but the dog wants some more.
The knife went clean though, the aluminum pan.
It was the ginsu knife, that I got from Stan.
The bird steamed up my glasses, so I couldn't see.
I took them off, and they dropped on the cavity.
Now, the bird, has such a funny look...
That we took a picture of it, for our book.
Gramma said: "It looks like Uncle Phil."
So, I had to sit down, and I took a pill.
Uncle Phil is bald, and has a funny nose.
Just like the turkey, but that's not it's nose!
Then we heard the knock at the door.
It was Uncle Phil. So I hit the floor.
Copyright © Terry Mullally | Year Posted 2018
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Terry Mullally Poem
My nails are all brittle and breaking,
Because of the jello, I’m not in taking.
I come home from work, all-aching,
Why, it’s a jello cake that she’s baking.
What could be better than par-taking
In a delicious dessert, that she’s making
Of the one that you love, not forsaking,
Of a jello cake that she’s baking?
We sit there, and enjoy with delight.
It’s a beautiful and wonderful sight.
Of a shear and culinary delight.
As we go off to sleep thru the night.
The next day I notice a difference,
My nails are better in appearance
The jello made all the difference,
It was such a wonderful experience.
Copyright © Terry Mullally | Year Posted 2018
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Terry Mullally Poem
The rays of light are heaven sent.
Hitting the forest at an angle bent.
The ground is a kind of firm-a-ment.
The woodsy ferns are glowing with light.
The fallen trunks, with their mossy plight.
It’s a nature’s scene, that’s pure delight.
Stepping through the sticks and leaves.
It’s snapping sounds, I do perceive.
The footsteps left, seem to relieve.
The acrid smell of smoke draws near.
It may be close, it’s what I fear.
What will happen, to you, my dear.
Copyright © Terry Mullally | Year Posted 2018
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