Stick Person Poetry

0822

0822
Hurry up haiku

Cruising through the day
Forgetting that one chore, so
You do it quickly

Here’s a Spoiler Alert!
People hate when you blurt
Last night’s secret ending
You found so heartrending
DVR and TiVo
Changed when we watch our show
So if someone is killed
Don’t be the one who spilled

0820

0820
It’s easy to draw naked stick figures

Has True Blood finally jumped the shark?
Vampires played volleyball in a park
A faerie vampire tried to marry
Jason’s girlfriend is hot but scary
Warlow is staked, and it’s quite gruesome
Alcide and Sookie are a twosome
Infected vampires look barbaric
They better not have killed off Eric!

0819

0819
Road to know where

Yesterday, we decided to roam
No shortcuts; we took the long way home
Cutting north, we journeyed through Ojai
Climbing mountains where the brush was dry
Across the 166 we flew
Passing both Cuyamas – old and new
Some people’s nerves would be unraveled
But we enjoy the roads less traveled

0818

0818
A ship arriving too late to save a drowning Walt Whitman

O Captain! My Captain!
By Walt Whitman

1
O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

2
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up-for you the flag is flung-for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths-for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

3
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

0817

0817
Highway 101 haiku

Fields of grapes and grass
Fly by the window until
The valley of smog

0816

0816
Eff Scott Key

There once was a man from Baltimore
Who went out one night looking to score
He saw quite a fight
By dawn’s early light
Better action than he could hope for

0815

0815
Takeshi still has them Beat

One of our guilty pleasures is Wipeout
We love all the slips, trips, smashes and falls
They splash in the water like spawning trout
And bounce as far as they can on Big Balls

0814

0814
Ode on a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup

Of cups made from peanut butter
There are none better than Reese’s
Folks can claim that I’m a nutter
But I even like their pieces
If the pleated cups aren’t enough
Valentine’s day brings Reese’s hearts
Christmas means peanut butter trees
So sweet and salty, that’s the stuff!
They come in two convenient parts
One for now and then a reprise

0813

0813
Maybe shaming will work

I saw it once, I thought it was a fluke
It happened again, and I want to puke
There’s a Paper towel in the urinal
Might be common at a bus terminal
But it’s gross when it’s at your place of work
Whoever is doing it is a jerk

0812

0812
I drink your milkshake!

Ever had a headache
Where it feels like a snake
Is taking his lunch break
Drinking a brain milkshake
With a frontal lobe cake?
That’s what keeps me awake

0811

0811
My hats are my proems

To My Wife – With A Copy Of My Poems
By Oscar Wilde

I can write no stately proem
As a prelude to my lay;
From a poet to a poem
I would dare to say.

For if of these fallen petals
One to you seem fair,
Love will waft it till it settles
On your hair.

And when wind and winter harden
All the loveless land,
It will whisper of the garden,
You will understand.

0810

0810
You’ll never whack alone

There once was a man from Liverpool
Who was real handy with his large tool
In his tiny shack
He gave a nice whack
To any lass who wasn’t a fool

0809

0809
I think I’ll eat a torte

My knee had a huge wart
Its existence cut short
Because of the bump’s size
Which led to its demise
Today it got chopped off
Now there’s a bloody trough
I’m hirsute like an ape
Hairs were lost in the scrape
Goodbye dear friend goodbye
Where do warts go to die?

0808

0808
Get down make love

I really miss Queen
You know what I mean?
Brian May’s smart licks
Roger Taylor’s sticks
Deacon was steady
Damn, I miss Freddie

0807

0807
High hopes haiku

Five little numbers
And an extra Powerball
Make your wallet fat

0806

0806
I don’t think, I know

Believing you will win
A lottery jackpot
Might give you a big grin
But you’re just a crackpot

0805

0805
Pretty sure it’s just gross

Identifying roadkill
Is a very unique skill
Was that black clump a wild boar
Coyote, badger, deer or
Something more mundane than that?
Could that once have been a cat?

0804

0804
Linc curses those with flight

The Cat With Wings
By Robert William Service

You never saw a cat with wings,
I’ll bet a dollar — well, I did;
‘Twas one of those fantastic things
One runs across in old Madrid.
A walloping big tom it was,
(Maybe of the Angora line),
With silken ears and velvet paws,
And silver hair, superbly fine.

It sprawled upon a crimson mat,
Yet though crowds came to gaze on it,
It was a supercilious cat,
And didn’t seem to mind a bit.
It looked at us with dim disdain,
And indolently seemed to sigh:
“There’s not another cat in Spain
One half so marvelous as I.”

Its owner gently stroked its head,
And tickled it with fingers light.
“Ah no, it cannot fly,” he said;
“But see – it has the wings all right.”
Then tenderly from off its back
He raised, despite its feline fears,
Appendages that seemed to lack
Vitality – like rabbit’s ears.

And then the vision that I had
Of Tabbie soaring through the night,
Quick vanished, and I felt so sad
For that poor pussy’s piteous plight.
For though frustration has it stings,
Its mockeries in Hope’s despite,
The hell of hells is to have wings
Yet be denied the bliss of flight.

0803

0803
More death ahead?

Another bird is dead
The sparrow had no head
Looks like Linc may have fed
Wings broken; feathers shred
The crime scene stained in red
The poor thing really bled
I wonder if it pled
Or attacked back instead
The room is filled with dread
While Linc sleeps in his bed

0802

0802
High ku

Green leaves of the plant
Help get you through the work day
Now it’s 4:20!

0801

0801
James, we were always friends

It’s seven years ago today
My younger brother passed away
James was handsome, funny, and gay
He liked guys, he was born that way
He wasn’t flaming or cliché
But if he was, that’s still okay
Charming was in his DNA
And so witty, his jokes would slay
Often in pain, he would allay
It with a movie or a play
Or hosting friends with a soirée
But James is gone, and here I stay
While sipping on a chardonnay
I think about him everyday

0731

0731
Don’t give her Play Doh

There once was a woman from Orcutt
She was crazy, a bit of a nut
She found a huge box
Full of Lego blocks
Which she built in the shape of a butt

0730

0730
And not just $2

I want to win at Powerball
I really want to win it all
I want to get a big fat check
‘Cause work is a pain in the neck

0729

0729
Kill Linc machine

Linc is doing what he loves
What he loves is killing doves
Sparrows, blue jays, and black birds
Leaving just feathers and turds

0728

0728
Stay golden pony boy

Nothing Gold Can Stay
By Robert Frost

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.