Category Archives: poem

February 3, 2019 · 5:58 pm

Idealism (a poem)

When I was but a stupid boy

I had a stupid thought

That if you told a story well

And that story was easily bought

That you could save yourself from hell

If the story was rightly wrought

And the telling would end in joy.

………………..

But when I was an awkward youth

I tried my tale to spin

And awkwardly my words went wrong

And my story failed to win

And readers sang that critical song

And laughter crept right in

And my steering was not strong

My story was uncouth.

……………….

But as a mostly mature man

I tried to tell the truth

And live my life by a mature code

And profit from lessons of youth

And composed a much more stable ode

That rhymed while showing tooth

And defended my small abode.

I executed my story’s plan.

Finally, I wisely became real old

And I warily and wisely began to lie

I made of life a serious joke

And ate my small piece of the pie

I laughed and watched the faces in the smoke

As the fires began to die

And I made the point as I wisely awoke

My story is now told.

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Filed under autobiography, commentary, humor, irony, metaphor, Paffooney, poem, poetry, strange and wonderful ideas about life

January 2, 2019 · 10:25 pm

Dr. Dinkleblatter’s Diagnosis

I went to see Dr. Dinkleblatter…

Because I wanted to find out what the hell was the matter…

He said, in a way that was rather unkind…

“I’m ninety percent certain that you’ve lost your mind!”

Of course, I went home and was really quite shaken.

I was halfway convinced my poor mind had been taken.

And halfway convinced that I would be disgraced…

If it only turned out that my mind was misplaced.

So, I searched the whole house, and to my utter relief…

In my underwear drawer under white cotton briefs…

I found my old journal with cover dark brown,

And there was my thinking all quite written down.

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Filed under autobiography, humor, mental health, Paffooney, poem, poetry

September 12, 2018 · 7:45 pm

How the Story Ends

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How the Story Ends (a poem of sour grapes)

This is how the story ends…

When fox plus grapes make themes.

It tells you all the grapes are sour…

So give up on your dreams.

But that is not the fox I know…

At least, not how it seems.

The fox who knew the little Prince

Knew love will live in dreams.

The fox I know would think of ways

To live and work in teams

He’d find a farmer, kind and large,

And share with him the dreams.

The fox would learn to plant and grow

Grape seeds in warm sunbeams,

He’d tend and also harvest

And then he’d have his dreams.

And so, when thinking the story ends,

And not accepting themes

Remember that stories never end

If you don’t deny your dreams.

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Filed under Paffooney, poem, poetry, strange and wonderful ideas about life

July 15, 2018 · 1:23 am

Impossibly Positive

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Impossibly Positive

(a poem about positive people)

Oakie Doak was a positive man,

Who smiled as much as any man can,

And said nice things to girls and boys,

And sour-faced men he often annoys.

The whole Doak family always feel fine,

At tables all made with both oak and pine.

But scammers from Nigeria

Took every dime anywhere near ya,

And the IRS did charge him double

In fines they argued were for the trouble

He caused accountants in adding for

The many dollars he had no more,

Doak told his wife, “No problem, Honey,

We still have love, and it’s only money.”

And when the people he loved had died,

He simply said, “I’ve always tried

To make the best of the time we had,

And the memories will always make me glad.”

Oakie Doak is disgustingly happy

And decidedly stupid and also sappy.

But he lives his life on a positive whim,

And, of course, I really wish I was him.

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Filed under happiness, humor, poem, poetry, satire

June 3, 2018 · 3:29 pm

I am still in lazy mode, not quite making the effort for 500 words… But, in my defense, a picture is supposed to be worth a thousand words. So, the picture above should count as 1,042 words because of the words in it.

Poetry is like that. Even bad poetry. This doggerel verse is capable of meaning far more things than it specifically, literally states. But I shouldn’t point that out. You should never explain a poem… or defend a poem… a poem should simply be. Even a bad poem.

And there are those who will say it is not a bad poem. It speaks to simple farmer wisdom, the kind I learned while yet a boy in Iowa 50 years ago. Did you realize that I made this meme on a photo of my own unweeded flower garden, grown in the unforgiving Texas heat?

That’s all there is to today’s post. A picture/poem… a tiny bit of wisdom… on the first hot Sunday in June.

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Filed under commentary, humor, photo paffoonies, poem, poetry, strange and wonderful ideas about life

May 9, 2018 · 4:10 pm

Alliteration

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I find alliteration to be a useful poetic tool to use for comedy purposes. I like to use it to the point of ridiculousness… as in apt alliteration’s artful aid. The repetition for repetition’s sake in spite of meaning is in itself chuckle-worthy. But when alliteration can further the meaning of the writing itself also… I liberally laugh out loud.

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L-Words (a Lousy L-Poem)

Lovely little lambs lament

Little lambs lament the loss of love

Lambs lament loudly and long

Lament the loss of lovely love

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Lovely little lambs laugh loudly

Little Lambs laugh at life lived lovingly

Lambs laugh long and loudly

Laugh long and loudly in lieu of love

Life and love and laughter

The three L’s

Laugh lovely little lambs!

Okay, I know… I am the king of bad poetry. But perhaps the alliterative excess makes you laugh a little bit… at my poor poetry skills if nothing else.

Alliteration always awards awesomeness on authors… or not.

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Filed under commentary, foolishness, humor, irony, Paffooney, poem, poetry, strange and wonderful ideas about life

Tagged as alliteration, bad poetry, humor

March 23, 2018 · 3:31 pm

Arrivaderci, Bozo

No, I am not saying goodbye to anyone that is leaving the Trump administration. Frank Avruch has passed away.

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Who is that, you may ask?

Well, from 1959 to 1970, he was Bozo the Clown. The first Bozo. The best Bozo.

And we will miss him, those of us who knew him from childhood, watching a colorful clown on black and white TV.

He did charity work for UNICEF. We collected dimes in covered coffee cans for Bozo because Bozo needed them for UNICEF. What the heck is UNICEF, you ask? Don’t you know how to use Google and Wikipedia?

So, this is a clown who inspired poetry. What? He didn’t inspire poetry in you? Well he did with me. Let me show you.

bozo

Immortality

They say a clown can never die,

And at the table has a place,

And here’s a little reason why,

It’s all about his face.

When one clown stops the life of laughter,

And stops running the human race,

Another clown can pick up after,

And keep wearing clown one’s face.

Kops aa

Do Not Fear The Bozo Squad

It is really, truly, very clear,

You should not fear a clown, I hear,

Identities disguised in paint,

Malevolent of thought they ain’t.

A clown is meant to make you laugh,

And I can show you with a graph,

That silliness saturates their very sheath,

And rarely hides evil underneath.

Sleep Soundly, Sweet Bozo
Silly songs sound in synchrony
As the symphony sounds softly
Sincerely saying in sweet song
“Sing angel songs, sweet Bozo
Your spin-off will last long.”

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Filed under artists I admire, clowns, goofy thoughts, humor, poem, poetry, review of television, strange and wonderful ideas about life

Tagged as Bozo the Clown, Frank Avruch

January 26, 2018 · 4:20 pm

The Philosophy of Bad Poetry

I do write poetry. But I must admit, I am not a serious poet. I am a humorist at heart, so I tend to write only goofy non-serious poems like this one;

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So here is a poem that rhymes but has too much “but-but-but” in it. A poem about pants should not have too many “buts” in it. One butt per pair, please. So this is an example of spectacularly bad poetry. Why do we need bad poetry? Because it’s funny. And it serves as a contrast to the best that poetry has to offer.

As a teacher I remember requiring students to memorize and recite Robert Frost’s poem, “The Road Not Taken”. Now this sort of assignment is a rich source of humorous stories for another day. Kids struggle to memorize things. Kids hate to get up in front of the class and speak with everybody looking at them. You get a sort of ant-under-a- magnifying-glass-in-the-sun sort of effect. But in order to truly get the assignment right and get the A+, you have to make that poem your own. You have to live it, understand it, and when you reach that fork in the road in your own personal yellow wood, you have to understand what Frost was saying in that moment. That is the life experience poetry has a responsibility to give you.

roads-diverging

Hopefully I gave that experience to at least a few of my students.

Bad poetry makes you more willing to twirl your fingers of understanding in the fine strands of good poetry’s hair. (Please excuse that horrible metaphor. I do write bad poetry, after all.)

But all poetry is the same thing. Poetry is “the shortest, clearest, best way to see and touch the honest bones of the universe through the use of words.” And I know that definition is really bad. But it wasn’t written on this planet. (Danged old Space Goons!) Still, knowing that poetry comes from such a fundamental place in your heart, you realize that even bad poetry has value. So, I will continue writing seriously bad poetry in the funniest way possible. And all of you real poets who happen to read this, take heart, I am making your poetry look better by comparison.

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Filed under humor, insight, irony, philosophy, poem, poetry, Uncategorized

Tagged as Robert Frost as good poetry

January 24, 2018 · 3:31 pm