Category Archives: Poems, Poetry and Poem-etry

Shift Change – Romantic Monday

My husband and I are working different shifts – he comes to bed as I am waking up and leaves for work as I am driving home at the end of my work day. Sometimes those brief moments when we are both in the same location (our bed) at the same time are all we have together in the course of our day.

My first entry in Edward Hotspur’s Romantic Monday weekly feature:

sleepy-logo-small

SHIFT CHANGE

In the quiet predawn hour

I listen for his key in the lock –

Home after a long night shift.

I’ve warmed his side of the bed

With my head on his pillow.

He hopes I am asleep but secretly

Wants to snuggle and talk

Before attempting to sleep

Through a day filled with lawnmowers,

Barking dogs, sirens and sunshine.

He slides under the covers;

Icy skin against my warmth.

Snuggled perfectly and comfortably we

Drift in and out of sleep, together.

My arm around him, our fingers intertwined.

His breathing slows – mine quickens

Neither moves – he drifts off to sleep

I drift awake – a sweet transition.

Happy for the closeness.

Together in this moment.

For the rest of our lives

Forever.

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Filed under Poems, Poetry and Poem-etry, Uncategorized

Life is Better with a Pint of Vermont’s Finest

Ben & Jerry's

Ben & Jerry’s (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

When I’m feeling down, dragging bottom
When skies are gray, and my mood is rotten
When my attitude reeks and happiness eludes me
There are a couple of friends I know I must see.

Off to the kitchen, with dinner to make
I spy a near-empty pint of “Strawberry Cheesecake”
The few spoonfuls eaten, starting to feel drunk
I eye a quart of “Triple Caramel Chunk”.

Scrounging in the freezer, starting to shake
Do I want “Phish Food”? or “Red Velvet Cake”?
“Dublin Mudslide”? or “Peach Cobbler”
I’m transforming into a frozen dairy treat gobbler.

I try to resist with all the strength I can muster.
I cave when I see a pint of “What a Cluster”.
When I find a lonely spoonful of “Chunky Monkey”
I shovel it in like some kind of junkie.

“Chubby Hubby” doesn’t stand a chance
During my in-front-of-the-freezer-door dance
“Chocolate Therapy” is exactly just that.
Say, does this “Crème Brulee” make me look fat?

I scrape out the last bite, down my chin it runs.
Then I reach in the back for some “Cinnamon Buns”
A few little bites really won’t matter
So I finish off a pint of “Cake Batter”.

I embrace “Cherry Garcia” –  it counts as a fruit!
My diet is now shot so that point is just moot.
“Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough” calls out to me
When my table is called – Pity, Party of three!

Skipping dinner is starting to sound just fine,
As long I can hang out with these friends of mine
Just two Vermont guys who always cheer me up
Whether enjoyed in a cone, a bowl or a cup.

Just three good buddies – Ben & Jerry, and Me.

Triple Caramel Chunk

Triple Caramel Chunk (Photo credit: Shoshanah)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Visit these other blogs for a peek into the lives of bloggers who know a good thing when they see  taste it!

The Blurt Blog: http://wp.me/pr0Rp-3vK
She’s A Maineiac:  http://wp.me/p105lO-1G6
Jacqueline Cangro: http://wp.me/pCBZ0-ZX
The G is Silent:  http://wp.me/p1XBWU-3es
Julie Kingsley: http://wp.me/pVMgR-1aV
Georgette Sullins: http://wp.me/p13O8t-1ct

34 Comments

Filed under Poems, Poetry and Poem-etry, Uncategorized

Is That a Poem in Your Pocket or Are You Glad to See Me?

Levi's 506 jeans, front pocket with watch pocket.

Levi's 506 jeans, front pocket with watch pocket. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

As a part of the month-long celebration of National Poetry Month, today is “Poem in Your Pocket Day”. According to the Academy of American Poets …”The idea is simple: select a poem you love during National Poetry Month then carry it with you to share with co-workers, family, and friends. You can also share your poem selection on Twitter by using the hashtag #pocketpoem.”

As you know, I am not averse to verse; I am a purveyor of poetics, a lover of lyrical literature.  A rhymin’ writer, a … okay, okay.  You get the picture.

So in honor of Poem in Your Pocket Day, I offer the following:

I’ve got something for you
You cannot refuse it
I’ve a Poem in My Pocket
And I’m not afraid to use it.

So if you comment here today
Thank you for your time.
Won’t you leave a poem for me?
Yours truly, in rhyme.

-k8edid

The Poem in My Pocket :

Touched by An Angel by Maya Angelou

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love’s light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.

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Filed under General Mumblings, humor, Poems, Poetry and Poem-etry

Better Living Through Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups

GIVE UP THE PEANUT BUTTER CUPS AND NOBODY GETS HURT

A packet of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups

A packet of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A week of dieting Left me hungry and mean.
So I gathered some quarters for the vending machine.
Down the hall I slipped with nary a sound
To that mechanical beast where the goodies are found.

Standing shyly before its shiny glass front
There was no doubt about which treat I would want.
There in the fifth row, E6!! barely hanging on
Was that carb-loaded concoction of which I am fond.

My mouth was watering just at the thought
Of the creamy deliciousness that soon would be bought.
The chocolate! the peanut butter! smooth not chunky.
My hands were shaking like some kind of junkie.

My quarters clunked in, some gears were a-grinding
The metal corkscrew then started unwinding.
The orange package moved nearer the place it would drop.
But I stared in horror as it ground to a stop.

It dangled there, precariously, relentlessly mocking
My anger was growing, my language was shocking.
I gave the machine a nudge with my right shoulder,
Then shoved with both hands, my language grew bolder.

“Curse you”, I shouted, eyeing the hostage confection
“Those should be mine – it’s my chosen selection!”
“Those are my peanut butter cups – the snack of my dreams”
“I want them now” I cried between screams.

I knelt on the floor near that mechanical thief –
Trying to claim what was mine, put a stop to my grief.
People were passing, glancing disapprovingly downward
At the pathetic woman and the coarse language they heard!

“Give them to me – I bought them.  They’re mine”
I reached up higher, twisting my spine.
Just out of my reach, the object of my affection.
“I can’t reach you” I cried out in total dejection.

Stuck in the machine with my arm in it’s grasp.
My voice was fading, my breath but a gasp.
“I want them  – I need them – before my brain seizes.
“Give them to me”, I sobbed  “I want my Reese’s”.

My students approached me, there down on the floor
With my arm jammed up the little swinging door.
“Need help?” they asked while derisively smirking.
“No thanks,” I sniffed.  “This machine just isn’t working”.

“All I wanted was a darned peanut butter cup”
I whimpered, then groaned, and managed to get up.
Massaged my bruised arm, brushed off my slacks.
Then gave the machine a couple of good whacks.

“Here, let us help you” two of the larger males offered.
I couldn’t refuse the help that they proffered.
They tilted the machine, shook it frontward and back
But the glass-fronted behemoth wouldn’t give up the snack.

Security officers were making their rounds
And decided to investigate the unusual sounds.
When they saw my students and I were on a mission
They joined in the fight – of their own volition.

There was this crowd, pounding, shaking and cursing.
Hardly proper behavior in a college of nursing.
All of us bent to the one task before us.
“Give up the Reese’s” became our loud chorus.

The dean then walked up, quarters in hand
We stepped aside as the selections she scanned.
“Doesn’t work” we all warned, but she paid us no heed.
She dropped in her quarters at lightning speed.

E6 she selected and the machine came alive.
Whirring and grinding, motor in overdrive.
Lights blinked then went out – a loud groan went up.
All we wanted was a damned peanut butter cup!

She pounded the glass, the lights turned back on
She elbowed the buttons, the noises were gone!
The peanut butter cups were rapidly dropping.
Till the row was empty – there was no stopping.

We thrust in our arms, pulling out handfuls of wonder
The depth of the beast we did gleefully plunder.
Stuffing our pockets we then quickly scattered
To our offices and classrooms; to the taste that mattered!

Finally back at my desk, peanut butter cups in hand
I opened that first package – the aroma was grand.
The first bite – pure heaven – deliciously creamy.
My eyes glazed over, my thoughts turned all dreamy.

Three hours later, when I should have been busy
A great sugar buzz left me reeling and dizzy
Orange wrappers covered the desk and the floor
I knew that I couldn’t eat even one more.

The rest of the day was merely a blur
My head on my desk, I barely did stir.
Phones and e-mails ignored; my office door closed.
As I suffered a massive peanut butter cup overdose.

**************************************************************

***TODAY’S SPECIAL***

On this historic day, otherwise known as Wednesday, 19 of your favorite humor bloggers are staging a WordPress coup. We have banded together to address the important topic, Better Living Through Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.

Yes, you read that right. Your eyes are fine. Well, they may not be fine – I really don’t know. But it does say “19 of your favorite humor bloggers” (or who SHOULD be your favorite bloggers). We are all presenting the same topic, each from his or her particularly unique perspective.

Why this topic? Why now?

Why not?

Click on these “Reese’s Pieces” links to gobble up the entire, yummy bag of 19 posts.

Bon Appetite!

The Big Sheep Blog

Childhood Relived

Go Guilty Pleasures

Fifty Four and A Half

Fix It Or Deal

Play 101

k8edid

Lenore’s Thoughts Exactly

Life In The Boomer Lane

Peg-o-Leg’s Ramblings

Refrigerator Magnate

Running From Hell With El

She’s A Maineiac

The Byronic Man

The Good Greatsby

The Monster In Your Closet

The Ramblings

Thoughts Appear’s Blog

Unlikely Explanations

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Filed under humor, Poems, Poetry and Poem-etry, Uncategorized

K8EDID’s Incredibly Tasteless Greeting Cards

I'm sure my next career will be writing verses for these. Photo credit: Wikipedia

Recently I penned this little ditty for Darla, over at She’s A Maineiac  to use in a greeting card she could hand to her husband during one of their “discussions”.

I love you, dear
And I don’t want to fight.
But if you can’t help or listen
Get out of my sight.

Darla is an award winning author and proud owner of the coveted “Green Jacket”.    She has even done her own  Greeting Card Post If you haven’t visited her site – go now.  I’ll wait. 

Zzzzzzzzz.  Snort.  Cough.  Okay, Okay.  I’m glad you could tear youself away…I didn’t think you were going to spend the whole day over there, but hey, I understand (sniff, sniff).  She’s good (sigh).  What? You have to go? Nooooooooooooooooo….

I am in a particularly funky rhyming mood, so I thought I would take this opportunity to offer to write a little ditty for any greeting cards you may need.  Also, I would do just about anything to avoid finishing my taxes, cleaning the house, or exercising.

Just post your request in the comment section and I’ll see if I can whip up a little rhyme for your greeting card (Stick figure illustrations available for a nominal fee or chocolate, preferably dark, preferably not an earless hollow chocolate bunny).

Here are just a few examples:

FOR MY DOG:

Snoring Dog during the day, fierce protector by night. Photo credit: k8edid

I love you Shelby

You know that’s right.

But you’re shelter-bound

If you keep barking all night.

FOR THE IRS:

Form 1040A, 2005, page 2

Form 1040A, 2005, page 2 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

  

Listen, Jerks.

This isn’t funny.

Quit screwing around

And send back my money.

FOR THE EASTER BUNNY:

 Thanks for the candy

It went straight past my lips.

Now it will spend

Twenty years on my hips.

51 Comments

Filed under General Mumblings, humor, Poems, Poetry and Poem-etry