Randomly Connected

Abacus, accountant, addled

Bemused, baffled, bewildered

Carafe, coffee, calculator

Dazed, delighted, done.

 

Ear, eloquent, earnest

Fatigued, frightened, fascinated

Gossip, garbage, go-way

Hearing, honesty, hopeful

 

Impression, irreverent, impeach

Jeremiad, jokester, jettison

Kaleidoscope, kaput, karma

Lawless, landless, lost

 

Managing, messing, monkey

Narcissistic, nerd, ninny

Oaken, offensive, oxalic-acid

Perfidy, persistent, pestering

 

Quad, quire, quotes

Rubbish, radiant, ruthless

Stipulate, stage, suffocate

Translate, tax, terminate

 

Ulotrichous, ubisupra, unruly

Velvet, vasty,venerable

Wig, wad, wonderful

Xeroscaped, XL, X-ed

 

Youthful, yare, yauld

Zaftig, zigzag, zed

 

 

The idea was put

words in a hat,

pull some out

Have something to write about.

Instead, I went to  a long time friend

Who has served me well all my life.

Dictionary is the name,

Keeps me in the poetry game.

 

You might have to get out a bound copy to find some of the words.

The end of the alphabet isn’t easy.

 

 

Bless Her Heart

This is a series of verses written to meet the challenge, “use the old Southern” term “bless her heart.”

She couldn’t cook worth a damn.

Her family grew and they ran.

No one she fed

Ended up dead.

Bless her heart.

She was a sinner,

Did everything, everyone wrong.

When she had you to dinner

She sang God’s praises in song.

Bless her heart.

She heard blonds have more fun

So she tried to become one.

When the bleach hit her hair,

It just wasn’t fair.

She is ever so galled,

But doesn’t look SO bad bald.

Bless her heart.

She would take her bike

When they went for a hike.

Alas and alack,

She ran over a white Cadillac.

She limped and she cried,

Nobody died.

Bless her heart.

Forty years she’s a nurse,

A blessing a curse.

Now she’s retired,

She wants to be fired.Bless her heart.

Japanese Death poems

A friend of mine introduced me to this form of poetry and I have found it to be very interesting. These are my efforts.

Poem #1

Starting with gauge on full

I started a trip called life.

Now, so many miles traveled,

Tires bald and

Tank empty,

I coast to my final parking space.

Poem #2

My sun,

Shining bright for so long,

Is now setting.

The moon is rising,

The night inviting.

I Will

Because I am me,

I will be me.

I will get up feeling well,

Not living in Hell,

A life that’s suppressed

By a mind that’s depressed.

Because I am me,

I will get up and see

What the world has in store

For a soul that wants more

Than hiding inside.

I WILL go outside!

August

A month with no holidays.

Instead, there are the “Dog Days” of summer.

“Dog days?” you ask yourself.

dogs,

Limp with the heat, even in shade,

Are to fatigued to think of barking at what may.

Do not mention playing catch.

Or fetch!

Supply cool water and leave be.

People, too,

Beleaguered by heat,

Thick humidity,

No breeze,

Have little appetite for work or play.

Even we lack the energy

To bark.

Expired?

How long was my shelf life?

Did our friendship expire?

Your windows are locked,

Your blinds are drawn.

A chain helps block the door.

You sometimes invite me over,

Then don’t let me in.

The phone rings unanswered.,

My calls not returned.

A rare text avoids conversation,

Many get no response to my response.

We had so much fun as young adults.

Older now, both busy.

Busy lives bring change.

We are following different paths.

Are there no crossroads?

Does I’m busy mean I don’t want to?

Am I off your shelf?

I haven’t expired,

Have you?