Showing posts with label women. Show all posts
Showing posts with label women. Show all posts

Saturday

Yesterday’s Yummies



When lured into lunch in a crunch,
It’s better to follow your hunch.
Don’t give in and toss out a punch,
Or one might get her shorts in a bunch.

I met a friend, long overdue,
To share a bite or three or two.
The conversation took a turn.
(You’d be surprised what one can learn.)



The fishing started with hors d'oeuvres
And quickly grated on my nerves.
She trawled, but I refused the bait.
I pushed the food ‘round on my plate.

Undaunted and without regret,
Back trolling, she did dump her net.
She popped and bobbed, as if for sport.
This chum of old, I failed to thwart.

The waitress brought the check at last.
I lured my angling friend out fast.
The lunch was tasty. We went Dutch.
The conversation? Not so much.
c2018 by Linda Ann Nickerson


Image:
Theme art – adapted from public domain image
Still from The Women, 1939

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Friday

Xcuse Me (When gym rats fall flat)



He loiters ‘round there at the gym,
And most of us steer clear of him.
I do not even know his name,
But I could tell you of his game.


He wanders idly by each set.
I’ve never seen him break a sweat.
He greets the ladies with a gawk
And stops beside them, making talk.

Today, this fellow crossed the line.
I know I didn’t give him a sign.
He blocked my path and grabbed my arm.
I guess he thought he brimmed with charm.

This move was random, not so wise,
For I go there to exercise.
Not interested in repartee,
I simply went along my way.

Tomorrow he’ll approach one more,
But who such tactics would fall for?
Mere common courtesy dictates:
Leave us alone. Go lift some weights.
c2018 by Linda Ann Nickerson


Image:
Theme art – adapted from public domain image
Still from Chained, 1934

Feel free to follow on Google Plus and Twitter. Please visit my Amazon author page as well.

Wednesday

Vainglorious Visions



A gal I know (Let’s call her Vic.)
Delights in every camera click.
Although a diva she is not,
She cranes her neck for every shot.


This prima donna wannabee,
With shrieks that sting like droning bee,
Still longs to linger in the light,
As if by royalty’s birthright.

This one of whom I write won’t sing,
Though she could make the rafters ring.
Instead, she merely caws and crows,
With others’ secrets to disclose.

But hold the phone. She’s on the mark.
We know her bite’s worth than her bark.
Perhaps performance is her scene,
Because she is a drama queen.

c2018 by Linda Ann Nickerson

Image:
Theme art – adapted from public domain image
Still from Sunset Boulevard, 1950

Feel free to follow on Google Plus and Twitter. Please visit my Amazon author page as well.