Poetry

I feel like I’ve given up blogging for Lent. I HAVEN’T.  I promise. Still, though – it’s like a ghost town around these parts. What happened to those months in 2008 when I was posting every single day?  I was an ever-flowing fountain of entertainment!  Bra shopping?  Check.  Sprite sprayed you-know-where?  You got it.  Annie…

Itchy ankle, itchy ankle, You’re the cause of all my rankle. Damn mosquito, found my vein, Your existence is my bane. Can’t think clearly, can’t think straight, Since my blood was made the bait. All I want to do is itch, Throw my body in a ditch Of hydrocortisone.

If everything were up to me, I tell you what I’d do: I’d always have a good hair day and never have the flu. I’d sleep in ’til whenever and I’d stay up ’til it’s late, My bank account would overflow and then I’d celebrate. I’d eat whate’er I wanted and I’d never gain a…

Holy Mother of Pearl – do you have any idea how happy all of your delurking made me? It was like the clouds opened up and God showered me with Sweet Tarts ALL DAY LONG! Reading your messages made me grin out loud, if there is such a thing – and I know there is,…

Sick in bed, sick in bed,Massive snot balls in my head.What to do to pass the time?Write a poem, try to rhyme.Scratchy throat and itchy eyes,Achy body my demise.Haven’t seen a soul at all,Save the Handy Graham (who’s tall):Bringing TheraFlu at 5,He made sure I was alive.Now I’m zonked and bored to tears,Out of Kleenex,…

I’m in the grocery store of dreams No less than once a week To sample cheese and hummus dips And try to sneak a peek At you, the tall and scruffy boy Who works the checkout lines; You scan the produce and the bread But sadly, not the wine (For Tennessee is far too strict…

It’s finally here: 08.08.08. How cute. If I were the marrying kind, perhaps I would choose to have a wedding on this oh-so-memorable date. But you know, I’ve always loved October. Maybe I should shoot for a wedding on 10.10.10. It’s a Sunday. Consider this my save the date – groom to be interpolated later….

Searching high and low For one to keep me lifted I’m brassiere shopping White is so boring But practical and useful When it comes to bras No black negligee Or polka-dot straps for me Just a simple one Remember the time When my underwire popped up At the grocery store? My only white bra Is…

I’m no poet. In the past, I have fretted over the fact that I am not a poet. How can someone who loves words and beauty and communication and emotions so much not have a poetic soul – a deep spring of sparkling and devastating words, words that cause others to pause and reflect and…