The Pouting Game

Sulk away, you silly, silly boy.
Sit and stew.  It's stew of your own making.
I'm seeing for myself how you employ
A ruse for self-defense when you are aching.

Ache away, you foolish, foolish man.
I tried to be a friend when you were down.
I've lifted you and done all that I can.
So why the silent treatment with a frown?

I can't abide to watch a grown man cry
For reasons that you cannot plainly voice.
I need to clearly know the reason why
You feel so out of sorts, but it's your choice.

So act your age.  Don't play this pity game.
I'm straight with you, and I won't take your blame.

All In a Stinking Week

It's not impossible that my house stink.
At times there festers garbage in a sack
Behind a closet door, and once the sink
Got clogged with who-knows-what; sent water back
Up all foul and black; I dished it out
Scoop by nasty scoop into a pan.
That damn disposal broke.  There was no doubt
My kitchen reeked, so I turned on a fan
And dropped some baking soda in the drain
(I'd heard it stopped most odors), but the worst
Came next: a stench which I could not explain.
I searched my rooms.  For days my house was cursed
Until by chance I found dead, hidden well
A mouse I bet inhaled the kitchen's smell!

2 B Like Goody 2 Shoes

She always chooses right, no matter what;
Does not repeat the gossip that she hears.
She'd never swear if she were in a rut;
Cuss at her; she'll cover up her ears.
No 2-piece at a lake or at the gym!
Her dresses go where she goes- to her knees.
Rock and Roll?!  She'd rather hum a hymn.
Her family, God, and friends she works to please.
A tiny sample grape she'd never try
Before she made her purchase at the store.
She's faithful and she never tells a lie,
Exemplar of obedience and more.
Were I to try to be like Goody 2 Shoes,
I'd be someone else.  What would you choose?

Legacy of Faith

Your legacy was faith, oh, pioneer.
From home and from abroad, you did not stall.
Instead, you chose to hear the brethren's call.
Your relatives and all that you held dear
You left behind to join church and seer.
Fearless, knowing not what would befall,
In winter most severe you tasted gall,
For persecutors had intentions clear.

With jeers and sneers your Prophet Joe they'd killed,
Your one revered, so you were forced to leave.
No aid for you as enemies gave scathe;
Protection none to save the land you tilled.
And more on trails would die for whom to grieve.
Oh, pioneers, your legacy was faith.

Waist Watchers

I have so many jeans that I can wear.
They lie inside a box upon my floor;
In every color there I have a pair.
With pants galore, I could not want for more!
I don't take time to sift through all those clothes
When I am in a rush and getting dressed.
Nor do I have the time to stand and pose
Before my mirror to see which looks the best.
The "Zanadi," flare-legged, and faded blue
I grab with very little hesitation.
From Asia, straight to Walmart,( and it's true,)
They always fit (Oh, joy, less complication).
And when those darn things feel a bit too tight,
I diet till they hug my hips just right!

Restless Legs

Recall a scene from "Family Vacation."
A character was played by Chevy Chase.
His kids he took to see a new location.
A canyon grand, a wonder is this place.
They turned to look and see its mighty view.
In seconds, Chevy shooed them to the car.
I see a thing and quickly take off too.
I speed, create, and read; I count no stars.
I hate to see a movie more than twice.
In church I sit and feel like I will die.
I know this part of me is not so nice,
but I could use some wings; away I'd fly!
If I were Indian-born, the name for me
most fitting "Restless legs" would have to be.

Swan Song

A frequent visitor is Mary Anne,
Who first did come before the bloom of rose
As tiny bud before it fully grows.
I blossomed too.  A pattern then began.
I  came to know when she would call again.
Though first she came as not a guest I chose,
I'm ready now each time she does impose
herself on me, and that has been the plan.

She comes.  She goes. And autumn has drawn near.
I backward look.  How every year did flee!
I forward look with something kin to fear.
I think that it a sorry day shall be
(A time I know is very nearly here)
When Mary Anne no longer calls on me.

Till Sweetly Bitter End

Irony, you've known me since my birth,
A lone and scrawny tomboy till my teens,
When then I turned, became a girl who preens,
Who fights the fat that gifted her new girth,
And who timidity has changed for mirth.
All I had from childhood were my dreams.
Irony, now see me making schemes.
I'm down to earth and brimming with self-worth.
And what I have been wanting has been wrought.
One that I hold close has learned to bend.
And yet his life with tribulation's fraught.
Irony, you fickle, wicked friend.
Blessings mixed; you've brought him now but naught.
You'll warm my hearth till sweetly bitter end.

Similar Response

Cruising to the exit - by my side
A semi; what he did was quite unkind.
His view to me, I realized, was blind.
He took my lane and took me for a ride!
Hit, my car turned inward.  We did glide.
He pushed me from behind as brakes did grind.
"What next?" was all that came into my mind.
He stopped.  My car was driveable.  I sighed.

Steered by fate is life I see by daylight.
Quiet paths of night become a freeway.
Left, then right, obeying lines of white,
I veer from strife and navigate the grey.
Suddenly, dismay!  I'm struck with plight.
I breathe and then resume.  What more to say.

Wicked Mischief

Stealthily and with no invitation,
Wicked Mischief rides into my night,
dismounts and comes inside. How impolite!
For rudely she intrudes - this aberration,
bearing that unholy "deprivation,"
strongly brewed with venom of her spite.
And if I can, I'll try to expedite
her speedy flight, and thus my liberation.

My desperation's growing all the while.
Can I fight her power?  Can I flee
her whisperings unceasing that so rile
me.  Oh, precious seconds gone!  I see
light of day. Sweet sleep she did defile.
Insomnia has wrought fait accompli.

Floria Envisioned

In a temple Floria I see,
Clothed in radiant white from head to feet,
Soft pale hands and Bible on one knee;
Her smile beams on each who take a seat.
Within the room is finest polished wood;
All is clean, and walls reflect the light
Of purity, which sought, is understood,
For here abide the honest and contrite.
Peace resides to blot the worldly strife
Left outside, and solace eases pain.
Many here reflect upon their life,
For godliness and solemness do reign.
In the temple I envision her
Once the Spirit does her heart bestir.

Sonnet of the Family's French Fry Girl

1969 and children eight.
It's Thursday and our Dad just got his pay.
We eagerly and hungrily await.
It's time for Henry's Hamburgers.  Hurray!
Dad makes no exceptions.  We must take
Two hamburgers  with everything and fries.
We grab our own allotment and partake
While some scrape off the onions they despise.
Dori slowly chews.  Her food we steal!
(It's  wise to keep one's eye on morsels laid).
I'm busy making deals with my own meal.
My hamburgers for brothers' fries I trade.
Oh, to have my family all in sight
And  shout, "It's Henry's Hamburgers tonight!"