Inappropriate Poetic Subjects #11 – Pictures With Children (or Animals)

What we see versus what’s actually there.

Kids (and animals) we view
With the greatest of affection;
But we see them as they aren’t
By some sort of weird

Quite A Do

Parties. Yeesh.

We all have our unique talents
Mine is party hating;
I despise them thoroughly
This, there’s no debating

Now, the Daily Prompt informs me
What I must go through;
Since I’m duller than gray linen
I’ve got work to do

So then you are all invited
To this do of mine;
So long as I am not going
It should be
Just fine

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “It’s My Party.”

Inappropriate Poetic Subjects #9 – Herbert Spencer’s Sideburns

The truly burning historical controversies have found a home here.

Herbert Spencer, he was born
On a windy April morn;
Four years later, young Burnside
Came to be, his parents pride.

Burnside wore the first sideburns
But the photographs suggest
That while each man took his turns
Spencer’s sideburns were the best.

But then I’ll let YOU decide
Did Spencer burn out Burnside?

General Burnside.
General Burnside.

Inappropriate Poetic Subjects #8 – Sunblock

Three different poets take a crack at this — sort of

Ogden Nash(oid) version

Come now, let us block the sun.
Too much sun is not much fun.
Burning leaves you all vercleff:
So get you some SPF.

– = –

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow(ish) version

In erythemal action spectrum,
Came solar irradiance falling
Needing monochrome protection
For the lambda of the wavelength
By the raging blue green waters
Came the daughter of Nokomis
There to have the Bullfrog wearing

– = –

Haiku version

sun streaming summer wind waves
leaf gently blowing
We’ll need SPF 50

Her Only Pleasure Was Reading

She had but one pleasure left when I knew her.

I’ve never wanted anyone I’ve known
To read the things I’ve written, or to see
How distant from the meritocracy
Of poetry I’ve strayed with all that’s shown
Within these linked persuasions overblown;
These strokes of penitential penury
Inflicted via pseudononymy
To no one, or to each one, all alone.

But yet, I see as silver years approach
And love of words its daily comfort brings,
A link to one of long and distant trace.
And if I could bring her eyes to these things,
To kin, I hope, she would not bring reproach:
To ease the suffering of my Aunt Grace

= = = = =

Singular Sensation

If you could have a guarantee that one, specific person was reading your blog, who would you want that person to be? Why? What do you want to say to them?