pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

Tag: Silly

As Awkward as Two on an Elevator

He says hi there;
she says hello.
“Which floor?” he asks.
She doesn’t know.
His finger waits,
then starts to tap.
Her face turns red.
She thinks, “Oh crap.
Why can’t I think?
Just pick a floor!”
Her brain congeals.
He taps some more.
“Just. Pick. A. Floor.”
That thought now slips
from clotted brain
through tense, pursed lips.
With sideways glance
and impish smirk,
he presses 12.
(Joker?  Or Jerk?)
Long, silent ride
can’t end too soon.
It seems to take
all afternoon.
She ruminates
entire ride,
should parting words
be kind?  Or snide?
She isn’t sure
how this should end –

Just like my awkward
poem, my friend.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

I’m All Wet (Limerick)

Photo by Brianna Martinez on Pexels.com

I love gentle rain (yep, you bet),
but I do not like floods, tears, or sweat.
Love lakes, streams, and seas,
and love raindrops that freeze.
But I most love my liquid assets.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

NATURE OF THE BEAST

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Photo of  “The Bean,” by Poppa

When your leader suggests disinfectant,
ingestible or an injectant,
should you chuckle or cry
or heave a big sigh
and wonder what you were expectin’?

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

Okay so part of me feels guilty about this one, but we gotta laugh, right?!

SOCIALLY REWIRED IN NO TIME FLAT

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Photo courtesy of Pixabay

I’m all for the masks and hand-washing,
Keeping 6 feet away and not touching,
But for cryin’ out loud
I just gasped at the crowd
On the old T.V. show that I’m watching!

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

True story, y’all! LOL!

MASK MAKER, MASK MAKER

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Photo courtesy of Pixabay’s  Pasja1000

Mask Maker, Mask Maker,
Make me a mask.
Ward off my cough.
That’s all I ask.

Mask Maker, Mask Maker,
Nothing too posh.
Just make me a modest mask.

Mask Maker, Mask Maker,
Put folks at ease
as they pass by,
and I must sneeze.
Your mission, see,
is to render for me
a smidgeon of PPE.

Then drop it
off over yonder.
Leave quickly,
and leave nothing else, please,
for me. Well, I wouldn’t holler
if TP’s included (I’m ill at ease).

Mask Maker, Mask Maker,
Thanks for the mask!
My husband’s at peace,
no longer repeats
day after day, “Sharing isn’t condoned,”
now that I have one
of my own.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

 

PREDICTABLY (limerick)

Plumber plugging a hole and trying to reach a valve.

Found this fun one on Cartoon Stock.  Super fun, Tarnowski! 

When the hubby attempts do to plumbing,
I’ll hear him sporadically humming.
Then hints of some fumbling
bring mumbling and grumbling.
That’s when I know cursing’s forthcoming.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

Pardon? Maybe I Need Hearing Aids.

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Photo courtesy of Pixabay

Which wish is which?
Witch wish is which?
Which witches swish?
Which swishes which?
Which wishes switch?
Which wishes swish?

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

Not much of a poem, but lots of fun to write!

FOREVER SIX

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This little beauty is no longer six, wouldn’t want to be six, and would probably want me to let you know this is not based on a true story.  But I paired my poem with this pic because, well, I love her death and the ‘tude totally works. 😉   Not sure who snapped this shot.  Maybe her daddy? 

“I think I’ll be six now forever and ever,”
she said, and I told her she’d need to be clever
to pull off this whimsical, wondrous endeavor.
Now, did I believe her?  I didn’t.  However,
she smirked as she pulled out her six-ever lever.
‘K. Whatever.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

(This is a sequel to Now We are Six, by the extraordinary A. A. Milne.  My poem begins with his final line.)

Open Apology to a Word I Have Abused, in 5/7/5 Form (a persona poem)

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Image by Gerd Altmann via Pixabay

I have to admit
I’ve been syllabically
abusive to you.

I may call you poem
or po-em, depending on
my need at the time,

not even giving
thought to how this makes you feel.
Please forgive me, poem.

And please understand
this earnest apology
stated at this time

will remain sincere
whether at any time I
choose po-em, or poem.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

FOOD FOR THOUGHT

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Don’t like my string cheese stringy.
Don’t care for fishy fish.
Don’t want this squash-y thingy
that’s squishing in my dish.
I’ll take my eggplant scrambled, please,
with not-too-toasty toast.
I feel so sad for black-eyed peas,
and for the poor shanked roast.
My coffee grounds me just enough
to move on with my day,
but navigating it’s still tough.
Will curds show me the whey?
You’re nuts about my pecan pie,
but beef about my stew.
And I just chuckle, and here’s why:
It’s so fun ribbing you.  😉

© Marie Elena Good, 2019