Fiasco Friday: In Lamentation

I should preface this terrible poem with the acknowledgement that I do not care for coffee. Caffeine does nothing for me, and you have to fill a cup with a higher ratio of sugar and cream than actual coffee to get me to enjoy it. Nevertheless, I did go to college and was surrounded by coffee-lovers. Just for fun, I wrote this poem one night in sophomore year of college. Continue reading


Trick or Treat

Happy Halloween! Here is the final (intelligible) limerick I wrote for the holiday.

Trick or Treat

Trick-or-treaters out braving the cold,

Asked for candy with voices quite bold.

But a man saw them roam

And said, “Stop and go home,

You need meds and you’re ninety years old!”

Stolen Heart

Another holiday-inspired limerick for your morbid amusement.

Stolen Heart

Jim stole Susie’s heart on a whim,

But Sue couldn’t win over Jim.

So she grabbed up a knife,

Said a prayer for her life,

And then stole the heart right out of him.

The Witch

A limerick to honor the approaching holiday.

The Witch

A witch with a splintery broom

Said, “I wish I could soar with more gloom.”

She sanded the broomstick

Till it was small as a toothpick.

When she flew it, she fell to her doom.

Morris Seboris

In honor of encroaching Hallow’s Eve (and because I was bored one morning a couple of weeks ago), I tapped out a few poems before work. Apparently I equate Halloween with the gorier side of “horror,” but I do try to be funny–try is the operative term there. This is the first of a series of poems I’ll be posting for the holiday.

Morris Seboris

Morris Seboris was a choir-man florist

Whose nosegays were glorious roses.

But Morris Seboris got bored with his chorus,

So he arranged a bouquet of their noses.

Untitled Poem

I was rummaging around in my closet and found this little poem from senior year of high school. I haven’t posted much actual fiction in some time, and since I’ve just been discussing timing, I thought this was appropriate to post.


A brush, a touch of hand

For but a moment, though.

Twelve times a day, at night twelve times,

The stroke of love sets off the chimes.

Movement constant, progress slow,

A hush, love caught in sand.