Here’s the last of the limericks on the elderly, for now, at least. No more have appeared on the slate, since that feverish moment last week. So it must have been a passing phase. Now, the limerick: Continue reading
I did this little quickie for a poetry site that I joined today. It looked spiffy, and I needed to improve my stats, so I thought, why not? Though poets may not be the best customers for visiting around. Continue reading
On one site they say it’s the 15th, on another the 17th. Sometime this month St. Patrick’s Day rolls around for the obligatory green on your person. Continue reading
By now you’ve heard about Obama’s creative hermeneutics in a speech given Sunday in Ohio. He makes the same argument as the progressives who pit Jesus’ words against the apostles who spoke after him by inspiration of the Spirit sent by their Lord.
So I drummed up this little poem in dishonor of the presidential candidate with the too glib tongue. Continue reading
As mentioned earlier, I’m on a limerick streak, in terms of style, and on an aging streak, in terms of content. So far, on grandmas and physical changes like hair. (See all the poetry archives here, with other limericks about fans and frog warts.)
Today’s verse is on the eating habits of the elderly, which may not apply to all, of course. A caricature, certainly. But this is for fun, so here goes. Continue reading
by J. Randal Matheny
Old age is a bummer, they say,
With dentures, bifocals, toupee;
Hair grows in the nose,
In the ears, on the toes;
But up on the pate it won’t stay.
For some reason, a series of limericks on aging appeared in my poetry file over the last week. So I’ll post them here over the next few days. I started to find a picture of a bald head somewhere on the web, but with the present subtitle above by Dave Eggers,â€œThe words are enough, if the words are good,” I decided against that. Continue reading
We sleep to the noise of a fan,
The bird’s song is under the ban,
Instead of the rain,
The drone of a plane —
Behold! the solutions of man!
Our ceiling fan in the bedroom is on the blink. Most table fans sold here are plastic and last for two minutes. Vicki traipsed to Sam’s Club and found a large metal fan, industrial strength, and brought it home. Continue reading
To grandma no creature’s immune,
To strangers she’ll crow and she’ll croon,
With pictures she’ll ply them,
No detail deny them,
Though baby may look like a prune.
My tribute to grandmothers and grandparents everywhere. We’re not in the class as yet, but they say it’s a wonderful state of being. Continue reading
A copy on his wall for show;
Locked, hidden, in his vault, Van Gogh.
–Yes, from my hand, suggested by a scene of a movie we watched last night during our day off. Continue reading
This post explains the background behind the Cloudburst poem “The Lord Completely Satisfies.” So where can you read it? You can’t — see the explanation here. This post is for subscribers to the email list (see link).
Often are the times when I don’t get what I want. Some of those times are easy to handle; it makes no big difference. The padaria doesn’t have the chocolate sweets I went for. Disappointment, but no big deal.
Other times would generate frustration and resentment, if I were to let it, especially in relationship.
In the struggle of one of those latter moments I wrote this poem.
You know when they happen in your life. You want to blame somebody, maybe even God.
But the problem is not in anyone but self.
Because the Lord completely satisfies. Continue reading