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Background image: "Fun Factory" by Allen Lee

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Too much to fit in a day–

Too many days seem to roll right away–

Off kitchen tables, splatt

Onto kitchen floors, sswish

Stopped by a doggie paw–

But then off for more…

Bump

bump

bumping

down each step

won’t that

slow you

down

an itsy

bitsy

bit…

rolling right for that

crack in the door–

please take a break,

take a breath,

roll NO MORE–

Yes, I know

slowing down,

can become,

such… a…

chore!

© 2019 Michelle Kogan

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\by Linda Trott Dickman

For Nancy M.

Autumn leaves and pumpkins please

Ready for the season

Spiraled rusty rainbows ease

Our thankful hearts a seizin’

Pumpkins please and autumn leaves

Glistening in first frost

Smiling on the harvest time

Such  beauty at no cost

Autumns please and pumpkins leave

Crunchy carpets brittle

Make the raking so much fun

For big ones and for little

Pumpkins leave and Autumns please

Wood smoke conjures firesides

Warm donuts and some cider

Late autumnal hayrides

Autumn leaves, pumpkins please

Baked in pies galore

Vanilla ice cream on the side

Lattes by the score

Autumn pumpkins please and leave

They warm our fallish soul

They hang there in our memories

Like precious, burnished gold..

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The thing that I’m most thankful for
On this Thanksgiving Day
As I gobble, gobble yummy food
And then run out to play
Is that I am The Who I am
And while that is still murky
I’m thankful that I wasn’t born
A plump Thanksgiving Turkey

Janie Lazo 2019- All rights reserved

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My nose is running.
How it flows,
down my chin,
on my clothes.
Oh, now it's running,
cross my toes!
I need tissues...
before it blows!

Dianne Moritz, Nov. 2019

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I know a man who gardens,

who does not understand.

He has not learned from history

especially ‘bout the man

who named himself S. Dogood,

a wise one all should know.

He foretold those who planted seeds

should watch for what lips sow.

My example for that gardener

from Ben the great is this:

When sowing thorns a plenty,

your feet should not be bare.

You will be stuck

and out of luck

when you do not play fair.

Linda Baie ©

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This is from 2016--a bit of bad punning.  I hope to come up with something new before the end of the month.

Love Is a Series of Fatal Flip-Flops

The day she discovered
Chuck had tied the knot
Zori's sense of betrayal
(and melodrama) was so
strong she threw herself
into the nearest trash bin.
Her twin, on the other foot,
refused to become refuse.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.

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It's true, I have a shaggy mane.
Not what you think- I can explain.
It's just to shade my eyes from sun.
Please come and join me for some fun.

You're still not sure? What can I do
to make this comfortable for you?
I've now retracted all my claws
in case those sharp points gave you pause.

Just close your eyes, relax! Breathe deep!
Pretend you're waking up from sleep.
Come out of hiding. Don't be cry'n.
Surely you don't think I'm Lion!

© Cindy Breedlove

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It all began

with cookies. Now

and then, you popped up

unexpectedly.   It was cute,

you were sweet, and before long

you fell into step with my digital footprint.

Just a fling, I told myself, but you wanted more:

my time, attention, undying devotion, a credit card number

and personal security code.  And then it happened.  Black Friday.

It was late. There on my lap in the bedroom, aura glowing, you

told me I was glamorous, well-to-do, elite, and that XL or XS

didn’t matter. “2-for-1,” you said, “a limited-time offer.”

So I gave you my IP address, my credit card, the

works.  Who could resist those promises,

now as empty as my bank account?

For a time I thought we clicked,

but now I realize I did all

the clicking. And what

once was 2-for-1,

is now just me,

50% off.

© 2013 Michelle Heidenrich Barnes. All rights reserved.

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He's such an easy sleeper,
doesn't need a bed,
doesn't steal my pillow,
doesn't have a head,

Doesn't need a nightcap
for in seconds he's asleep,
and while my husband snores and snores,
my friend makes not a peep.

I fear that I'll be asked to choose--
my conflict would run deep--
because maybe if I had to,
my laptop I might keep.

© Janice Scully 2019

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Turkeys are jumpy and nervous this season.

They're feeling on edge but not sure of the reason.

They strut and act brave but I know they are bluffing.

On Thanksgiving Day they will be full of stuffing.

Their gobble is just a loud noise that they make.

Our gobble is how many bites we will take.

© Cindy Breedlove

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Dear John, when we met it was love at first sigh

And we certainly fell heart over heels

But you can’t make a silk purse out of a souse

Now the time has come for us to get real

To you, life is just a bowl of sherries

Or a twelve-pack, a handle or a cask

I’ve begged you to stop, to nip it in the butt

But you won’t, you big pain in the ask

You down like there’s nobody watching

And according to your tipsy, sodden thinking

Love means never having to say you’re soggy

So you constantly justify your drinking

Well for all intensive purposes I’m done done done

And it’ll cost you an arm and a keg

Since abstinence makes the heart grow fonder

Maybe now you’ll take the bull by the legs

I’ll remain pissed off as long as you’re pissed up

Cause I refuse to love a lush who’s comatose

So unless AA becomes your modus operandi

Sayonara, au revoir, adios!

© 2019 Mindy Gars Dolandis

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"I hope you won't think I'm uptight,"
She said in the deep of the night,
"But I've rested for ages,
And I find it outrageous
That my left arm still doesn't feel right!"

© Karen Eastlund

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Ding dong

“Gerry,” Mom twitters, “that sounds like the chime.

Would you be so kind as to get Papa Slime?”

Just what is she saying? Who can this Slime be?

He sounds like some mutant from deep in the sea.

Or maybe a ghoul from some bottomless caves.

Regardless, I’m sure it’s my brain that he craves.

Diiing dooong

“Gerry.” says Mom, “Where’s your reason and rhyme?

Just answer the doorbell. We need Papa Slime.”

My parents have lost it or possibly worse,

I’m thinking they’re under this Papa Slime’s curse.

He’ll rip me to bits (what a terrible guest),

then stomp on the pieces and feast on the rest.

Diiiiiiiiiiiing doooooooooong

“Gerald Jay Jones! I won’t ask one more time.

Now open that door and receive Papa Slime!”

I sink to the carpet and slink ‘cross the room,

then fling the door open expecting my doom.

It’s only my neighbor (he’s gentle and cute),

and there in his hands is a little green fruit.

He smiles. “Hey Gerry, you’re moving so slowly-

Your dad needs this lime for his fresh guacamole.”

Oops! Now I get it - there’s no Papa Slime.

My mom simply asked me to get Papa’s lime.

by David McMullin

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“I don’t know what you’ll think of my plight,”

She said, with her sling in clear sight,

“but I’ve heated and iced,

I’ve used every device,

Still my left arm just doesn’t feel right!”

© Karen Eastlund

I am trying to learn patience with my poems... they evolve ...

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Not sure if this qualifies. It was inspired by Tim Rasinski's WORD LADDERS.
(Answers are not included)
...............................................
L E X O P H I L E     Remove 4 letters and ‘banish’ remains

__ __ __ __  __           Replace X with V and drop only one E

__ __ __ __                 Change a vowel and a rodent appears

__ __ __ __                 Change a consonant and go to the polls

__ __ __ __                  Drop the V and unscramble into a ‘digit’

__ __ __                       Add a consonant and ‘rip’ it into the past

__ __ __ __                  Change a consonant to describe your attire

__ __ __ __                  Drop the E and add a consonant to create a four-letter ----

__ __ __ __                   Make it plural, you lover of . . .

__ __ __ __ __ !

Cory Corrado © (June 9, 2017)

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W  O R  D  S
mightier

than

the

S  W  O  R  D

Cory Corrado © 2019

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Rosemary married Dandelion
on a fine summer's day
and before Basil became Pesto,
they had a baby on the way.

With a fine prickly body
and a wild crop of hair,
this bright little fellow
made the whole garden stare.

They knew where he had been
no matter where he went
for this mane attraction
was truly heavenscent.

© Tabatha Yeatts

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Ratty-ta-tat-tatty—

love my Flamenco, it’s

snip-snappy whoosh-happy

bangitty-loud.

As if on “auto”, my

fingers snap, twist and float,

dancing feet smack and stomp,

neck tall and proud.

Whoosh-whirla-swishy-swish

skirt goes a-twirling round

kicky-kicks, twist and stamp—

bow to the crowd!

©Carol Coven Grannick 2019

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Playing Around with Words by Carol Varsalona

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Playing Around with Words by Carol Varsalona

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https://beyondliteracylink.blogspot.com/2019/11/playing-around-with-words.html

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Higgledy, Piggledy
Anakin Skywalker
tempted by dark forces
altered his name.

If he’d considered an
adenoidectomy,
would he have risen to
cinema fame?

Molly Hogan ©2019

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Autumn finds me and my neighbors outdoors,

tackling raking and gardening chores.

Nobody weights the crop; nobody counts it;

the running debate is how to pronounce it.

The couple next door, who can't know more than WE can,

insists that their specialty pie is a PEE-can.

Ed, on the corner, contends that our lawns

are salted and peppered with pounds of pe-CAWNS.

HE says we can't agree, I say we CAN

achieve a consensus about the pe-CAN.

The point of this ditty, you may have inferred:

I've harvested three different rhymes from one word!

©2019 Kim Norman

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You say your day was typical,
but it was likely biblical.
Our very breath a miracle,
breathalyzer clinical.
On cold days, air is visible,
but you say, "That's just typical!"

(c) Margaret Simon

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My malaprop

takes a hop

And bounces

BANG

into my brain –

syllables drop

partway and stop.

Why can’t

WORDS

be more plain?

Mistakes aside

let’s not be snide,

because poetry

POPS

if words contain pain.

-- Brenda Davis Harsham

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My words will not come out to play.
They just rumble and crumble all in a jumble.
They’re hiding–not seeking–all day today.
My words will not come out to play.
Without them I find I have nothing to say.
I just mutter and moan and mumble.
My words will not come out to play.
They just rumble and crumble all in a jumble.

2019 Kay Jernigan McGriff

http://kaymcgriff.edublogs.org/2019/11/22/poetry-friday-when-words-wont-play/

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it’s a caw caw caw

cawnjure

of corvids

it’s a caw caw caw

cawcophony

of crows

it’s a caw caw caw

cawreening

cawnga line

it’s a swoop loop troop

whooping

home to bed

it's a caw caw caw

cawniferous

cradle

it's a sh sh sh

shnoozing

roosting of crows

© Cheriee Weichel 2019

(image from vancourier.com)

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Mom thinks my sister Lily is intelligent,

but then I asked why mountains feel so tired.

She shrugged; I smiled, “Because they do not Everest.”

I’d hoped she’d screech and say I was inspired.
Lil had no clue that I was being comical.

She didn’t catch my grin and great big winks.

Instead, she strangely said, “That’s so hill areas.”

Poor girl is not as smart as my mom thinks.

©Bekah Hoeft 2019

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My nose is running,

my temp is too.

My lips are turning

a shade of blue.

I’ve caught a cold,

I want to return.

I’ll wash my hands,

when will I learn?

Kathleen Mazurowski

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“I do not have to do
What you have told me to!
I’ll not be regulated,
Or you’ll be ice-o-lated!
I’m Iceman!” I was told
By our Super Six Year Old.
Then his hand and fingers pointed
As if I'd be anointed
With icy water spray
In the super hero way -
Or perhaps he meant there’d be time out
A time alone, a time without;
In my room without a meal -
I must say, that held some appeal
Being thusly relegated
Instead of coldly ice-o-lated.
At any rate
That was the date
The hero shows
Became snow-no’s.

By Donna JT Smith

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the power of oomph

oomph is a big fat

emphatic kind of word

for tubas, elephants and gittin it done.

oomph is a word for

hula hoopers, superheroes, lumberjacks and bubble gum,

but also for belly dancers and beluga whales.

oomph is for tomatoes;

even moreso habaneros,

their round bellies spangled with spicy round seeds.

doughnuts and bagels have

a hole lotta oomph

rolling sweet and starchy down your throat;

bowling balls and billiard balls,

ladybugs and lightbulbs

all shine together ‘neath the dome of oomph.

oomph turns dinghy into rowboat into yacht;

and ay, caramba! in the splashing of a cannonball

is proven the power of oomph!

-Heidi Mordhorst 2015

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After the swerves and curves and bumps

A thank-you sign in orange and black:

END CONSTRUCTION THANK YOU

Consider a graffiti plaque

Spray can in hand, you driver grumps:

END CONSTRUCTION, PLEASE!

Juanita Havill copyright 2019

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Fierce wind,

Barn doors open.

Sandbags can’t stop water,

Rising over horses stalls.

NOLA

Pam Jones-Nill 2020