pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

Tag: Humor

POSITIVELY NOT

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You’re cute as a button, you mouse,
Discovered today by my spouse.
You’re pudgy and furry,
But you better scurry –
You do not belong in my house!

© Marie Elena Good, 2019
😀

Two Catena Rondo for Two

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1. SOPHIA ROSE

This eight-year-old is crushing on a boy.
Her baby days just sadly up and went.
He says he loves her eighty one percent.
This eight-year-old is crushing on a boy.

Her baby days just sadly up and went.
Her daddy says he’s losing all his hair.
There’s no way for a daddy to prepare.
Her baby days just sadly up and went.

Her daddy says he’s losing all his hair.
This eighty-one-percent kid’s just too cute.
The two of them together are a hoot.
Her daddy says he’s losing all his hair.

This eighty-one-percent kid’s just too cute.
He’s also sweet, so Sophie’s got good taste,
But baby years have too soon been erased.
This eighty-one-percent kid’s just too cute.

He’s also sweet, so Sophie’s got good taste.
This eight-year-old is crushing on a boy.
There’re others, too, but he’s the real McCoy.
He’s also sweet, so Sophie’s got good taste.

This eight-year-old is crushing on a boy.
Her baby days just sadly up and went.
He says he loves her eighty one percent.
This eight-year-old is crushing on a boy.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

 
2. ISADORA KATHLEEN

And now there’s little Izzy, just turned five.
She picked her future husband years ago.
He’s dutiful, and she’s a dynamo.
And now there’s little Izzy, just turned five.

She picked her future husband years ago,
When binks and naptimes were a part of life.
And (dutifully), he chose her for his wife.
She picked her future husband years ago.

When binks and naptimes were a part of life,
Those pint-sized wheels were spinning in her head.
Who knew the ploys and schemes that lay ahead,
When binks and naptimes were a part of life.

Those pint-sized wheels were spinning in her head.
And now there’s little Izzy, just turned five.
I wonder how her daddy will survive
Those pint-sized wheels still spinning in her head.

And now there’s little Izzy, just turned five.
She picked her future husband years ago.
He’s dutiful, and she’s a dynamo.
And n there’s little Izzy, just turned five.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

God help us, lol! 

A Little Look at Adventures in Life ;)

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Root of the matter:
Life is no small potato,
so keep your eyes peeled.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

THEN AND NOW

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“So you write your novels, if that’s what you do,
Or scholarly texts, or cerebral world view,
While I write my lighthearted, fun-to-write rhyme,
Then do it again for the ten millionth time.”  ~ Marie Elena Good, 2009

Now sometimes I write some political stuff –
Some downers and bummers, and, oddly enough,
It isn’t dependent on what’s in the news,
Nor spotting and schmoozing with some obscure muse.

What moved me back then and still moves me today
Is the awe of my God – and to this end I pray:
That whatever I write, be it witty or grim,
It will honor my God, and point others to Him.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

Written in response to the Motivation prompt at Poetic Bloomings:  Write a poem about what moves you to write. 

IN NO MOOD

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When the weather’s nice and sunny
but your nose is kind of runny
and you’re feeling rather funny
that’s a bummer.
Then your honey calls a plumber
for your runny nose in summer
but you’re simply in no mood
and so you sit there and you brood
and then you get into a tiff.
*sniff*

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

TOAST

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You are who I toast.
Not to butter you up, but
just to spread the joy.  😉

#seventeenineighteen

© Marie Elena Good, 2018

Hippopota Missus. (My sequel to, “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas”)

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My Christmas hippo wants a hippo missus.
Only a hippopotamiss will do.
Don’t want a dog. No kitty, nor Marie.
He wants a hippo Mrs. placed beneath the Christmas tree.

My Christmas hippo wants a hippo missus.
Only a hippopotamiss will do.
I didn’t think this through, when asking Santa Claus
to give a hippopotamus to me for ‘just because.’

I can see him now on Christmas morning,
creeping down the stairs.
Of course, he doesn’t creep, and the stairs are way too steep
To hold a hippo wobbling in his sleep.

My Christmas hippo wants a hippo missus.
Only a hippopotamiss will do.
I love my hippo friend, I love him through and through
I have a hippopotamus, I don’t think I need two.

 But I don’t want my hippo to be blue!

 I tell my hippo
we don’t have room for more.
He tells me he’s not asking for a 12-foot dinosaur.

I should have known that he
would need more than just me
And should have seen that he would need a hippopota-she!

I can see him now on Christmas morning,
creeping down the stairs.
Of course, he doesn’t creep, and the stairs are way too steep
To hold a hippo wobbling in his sleep.

Then Santa brought a missus for my hippo.
Only a hippopotamiss would do.
His hippopota missus gives hippo-lotta-kisses,
And now they’re both in hippopota-bliss!

 My hippo loves his hippopotamiss!

© Marie Elena Good, 2010 (and revised in 2018)

Untitled Tanaga Form

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“Honey, you’re sweet as a peach!”
Funny, you ‘cling’ like a leech.”
Two peas in a pod, they’re each
Using a figure of speech.

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2018

TIME IS OF THE ES-SCENTS

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Too much time to toil
smells like coffee break.
Too much time to broil
stinks of ruined steak.

Too much time spent mowing
smells of outside, in.
Too much time spent crowing
reeks of haughty din.

Time spent giving speeches
hints of stage-fright sweat.
Time spent strolling beaches?
Stale outlook reset.

Wasted time on druthers
leaves stench day-to-day.
Time spent loving others
breathes in sweet bouquet.

© Marie Elena Good

DIAG-NOSES

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He was handsome.
Warmhearted.
Excellent mind,
when it mattered.
Nobody more well-
mannered.

Clearly he had the world
at his fingertips.

Then came the diagnoses:
and they were many,
and they were hard to stomach.

This unmasking of
high impact issues
caused setbacks.
He felt he was
plunging into limbo.
No more spearheading projects.
No more chairing committees.
No more researching solutions
at breakneck speed.

But then good news was delivered!
He’d been misdiagnosed all along!

The moral of the story?
Though I try bloody hard to be humerus 

It’s all in vein.

And you know what else?
For as long as you have breath,
you’ll never not see noses
in diagnoses.

© Marie Elena Good, 2018