Klutz and Killjoy

A klutz I am to beat the bill,

A fall-down drunk, no sip or swill.

My frame betrays me without sign,

I cannot walk a fine straight line.

Before you measure out my mote,

Please know I have a doctor’s note.

Alas, judge not by hook or crook.

Things are not always as they look.

 

Reserve your ratings, formed in vain.

From diagnosis, do abstain.

You cannot grasp the way I walk,

Thus, I won’t bear your idle talk.

c2018 by Linda Ann Nickerson

Image:

Theme art – adapted from public domain image

Still from Child of Manhattan, 1933

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Positively Punchy

Positively Punchy

I’m not gonna bathe in your potions.

Don’t offer your poison fruit punch.

Not sure where you picked up such notions,

Although I have one certain hunch.

Your pontifications amuse not.

You argue on topics agreed.

What happens when you’re out of earshot

And others may freely proceed?

How bitter the brew you have boiled.

The cauldron, it hisses and steams.

And yet the concoction is spoiled,

For something is not as it seems.

A guest may admire aroma,

Perhaps even sampling a sip.

However, for those not in coma,

Your output bars all return trip.

So save me the trouble of asking,

And offer your quaff elsewhere, please.

For some scents are worthy of basking,

While others spread bitter disease.
c2011 by Linda Ann Nickerson

Image/s:

Blowing His (Own) Horn

Painting by Gabriël Metsu

Public Domain – copyright expired

Love poetry? Find my published poetry (and other) books through my Amazon author page. Got a Kindle? Check out my growing list of eBooks on Amazon.

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A-Tired -- A Limericked Toil to Prevent Sad Spoil

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“What does it matter how one comes by the truth

so long as one pounces upon it

and lives by it?”

Henry Miller

American Novelist

(1891 – 1980)

A-Tired –

A Limericked Toil to Prevent Sad Spoil

My buttons are popping – who knows?

Ticked off from my tips to my toes.

The list, it is long,

From here to Hong Kong,

And turns all my poems to prose.

To itemize ills would be wrong

And steal from my readers the song –

Suffice it to say

It starts in foul play

With noses where they don’t belong.

Though tempted the wrongs to expose,

Forgiveness and grace to foreclose,

My faith does appeal,

Lest joy they might steal,

And so I must don my mom’s clothes.

Apparel adult may be strong

And tailored for figures grown long.

Such garments I’ll zip,

Perhaps, too, my lip,

For how many rights make a wrong?

I’ll empty my wardrobe of woes

And pounce on the truth, I suppose.

Though facts may reveal

The sordid ordeal,

We fashion not what others chose.
c2010 by Linda Ann Nickerson

Public domain artwork

Posted for a variety of prompts:

Easy Street Prompts (“my mother’s clothes”)

In Other Words (Henry Miller quote)

Monday Poetry Train (poem/s)

One Single Impression (“empty”)

Sunday Scribblings (“faith”)

Weekend Wordsmith (“pounce”)

SOS for Supplicators

SOS for Supplicators

A young man who is quite dear to me, ever since his teen years, is in dire need of a liver transplant and another chance at a healthy and full life. Sober nearly two years, he is fighting for his health. His young bride-to-be and the rest of the family are praying fervently for him. Will you agree with us in interceding for Junior?

Re-liver Needed

A young lad

with lots of steam

became tangled

in proud traditions

and multi-generational webs,

allowing and enabling him

to land

between a rock and a hard place.

Now, mid-thirties,

he needs a liver.

He needs hope.

He needs another chance.

He needs the touch of the Lord.

(Who doesn’t?)

Praying for Junior.

Posted for a variety of prompts:

Easy Street Prompts (“a rock and a hard place”)

Friday Flash-55 (55 words)

Heads or Tails (“steam”)

Meme Express (“proud”)

One Single Impression (“allow”)

Love poetry? Check out Simply Snickers, a brand-new weekly poetry prompt. Try your hand with weekly prompts! Or, look into The Meme Express for daily blogging prompts.

Click here to visit Linda Ann Nickerson’s poetry and humor blog, Nickers and Ink.

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