poetry, thoughts, quotations

Satin Doll

satindollCan I be your sugar cupcake
Your little satin doll
Would you rather have a hotcake
Just name your protocol

Perhaps a little cheesecake
Do you need an overhaul
I’ll be your little keepsake
When you purr a sweet catcall

We won’t be playing patty-cake
Nothing like that at all
If you think I’m a fruitcake
Then you’re a strange oddball



With my cigarette holder I’ll wig ya
But over my shoulder I dig ya
Out cattin’ I’m a Satin Doll

Baby shall we go out skippin´
Careful amigo you´re flippin´
Speak Latin I’m a Satin Doll

I’m nobody´s fool
So I´m playing it cool as can be
I´ll give you a whirl
But I ain´t that kind of girl
Try catching me switch-e-roo-ney

My telephone number well you know
Come and let’s rhumba and play Uno
And I’ll be your Satin Doll


I am not writing any new blog entries.  The ones I have been posting for the last month or so were written last spring.  Just clearing out my Dashboard of ancient thoughts.  I do thank you for coming around.

No Words Left

Bristol Christmas Steps night 1960's 612

There were no words left to be said
So hand in hand they walked instead
Their thoughts no longer to be shared
Dreams and hopes left unaired
Tears would be shed

So many others would be spared
Desiring love but they had erred
They could not let the rumors spread
Oh how they wanted to be wed
But had not dared

Their future now was to be dead
For they were folks that were well-bred
The wrongs they did would be repaired
Feelings of love never declared
No life ahead

picture from morguefile

Looking Back


To me life is a ferris wheel
Spinning around a bit surreal
One day I’m up the next I’m down
Masking emotions like a clown

I buy my ticket take a seat
Then hold on tight feel my heart beat
I sense the thrill I hear my screams
Many hopes few realized dreams

And when my final ride is through
And I look back upon the view
I hope to see a life well-placed
And not one that has been a waste

picture from wikimedia

Different Route

I know that you love me
Of this I have no doubt
But there’s a part of me
You know nothing about

Thoughts and ideas
Just waiting to get out
Somehow you and I
Just took a different route

Book of Nonsense


Is for absurdity
The state of being absurd

There’s a better definition

But can’t think of the word


Is for baloney
Babble and bunk
Used by most people
When they are drunk


Is for clever
A cagey cracker jack
Sorry old pal
But some skills you lack


Is for drivel
From your mouth it flows
Into one ear
And out the other it goes


Is for Einstein
What you’ll never be
Takes a big brain
You surely agree


Is for folly
Foolishness and such
To write in this style
It doesn’t take much


Is for gibberish
And gobbledygook
Spoken aloud
By any old schnook


Is for hogwash
All hooey and hash
Usually spoken
With a bit of panache


Is for irrational
Never making any sense
Idiotic stuff
One tries to dispense


Is for jest
And jolly old junk
Whatever you say
I can debunk


Is for kooky
Your thoughts are deranged
Listening to you
We’re always shortchanged


Is for lolly gagging
Much time you waste
Where are the facts
On which your ideas are based


Is for mockery
A mumbo jumbo of words
Whatever you say
It’s all for the birds


Is for nonsense
No matter no alarm
Used as a joke
It does have its charm


Is for oddity
Always horsing around
No sense of wisdom
Is to be found


Is for poppycock
Prattle and rot
Listen carefully
You’ll hear it a lot


Is for quitting
All joshing real quick
Your humor is dull
And dry as a brick


Is for rubbish
Rotten falderal
It’s what you spew
Us you do appall


Is for silliness
A little bit won’t hurt
A laugh or two daily
Gives great com-fort


Is for twaddle
And a little twist of tripe
Double talk and trifling
All a bunch of hype


Is for utter madness
Lack of rationality
Utmost flightiness
And much stupidity


Is for various
Shams that you play
With that monkey business
You’ll never get away


Is for whimsical
Wishy-washy sport
Very entertaining
If you go in for that sort


X is for exasperating
All bum balderdash
A scrawl and a scribble
Meant for the trash


Is for yokels
Who just spout hot air
Listening to them
What a nightmare


Is for zounds
Glad this book is through
Written for pleasure
Nothing else to do


Bench ~ Wooden


A sad bench waiting by a wall
Has seen it all
Folks tired and spent
Without a cent

Down in the dumps ready to drop
Troubles won’t stop
In deep dire straits
Heartache awaits

Seeking refuge from bitter life
Escaping strife
Easing the pain
Struggles now wane

If only benches could talk.

The Minute Poem is rhyming verse form consisting of 12 lines of 60 syllables written in strict iambic meter.
The poem is formatted into 3 stanzas of 8,4,4,4; 8,4,4,4; 8,4,4,4 syllables.
The rhyme scheme is as follows: aabb, ccdd, eeff



Bench ~ Colorful


old friends
near the  lake
rest on a bench
sharing reflections
reminiscing past times
recalling lost memories
smiling now as they recollect
successes triumphs and victories
as heads nod in the warm summer breezes


I explained earlier that I have not been feeling well and am just posting what I have left in my drafts folder.  I am almost finished with the Bench series.  There was a Bench challenge for each month.  I wrote most of my entries for the entire year last January.  I wonder how much of the conversation on this bench is true or just made up or exaggerated.

A Bench for All Seasons



The bag sat on the metal bench
The leaves were golden brown
No one ever noticed it
When resting they sat down


The winter winds were strong and cold
Of leaves there was no trace
Yet still the bag was sitting there
In its usual place


Soon new buds began to bloom
Warm breezes filled the air
Trash collectors came each day
For the bag they didn’t care


One summer morn humid and hot
Came a child so resolute
Running to the bag she yelled
I found my bathing suit

Bench – Pew


So many hours I wasted there
Kneeling in prayer
Bench cold and bare
Feeling despair

Repeating words just all nonsense
‘Twas all pretense
Feeling intense
I’m so incensed

What use have I for prayers and pleads
And those old beads
I do good deeds
Without the creeds

Benches ~ Things on Benches


He was waiting for the bus
It was due at one
She was to arrive
They would have some fun


He was waiting for the bus
It was now past two
She did not get off
What was he to do


He waited for the next
Time was close to three
He looked at his watch
Her he didn’t see


The last one drove on by
It was after four
He got up from the bench
He could wait no more

Bench on the Beach


There was to be a party
He was turning nine
On the back of the bench
Was the Happy Birthday sign

Invitations had been sent
Invited every friend
Little did they know
Too soon would come the end

He’d gone down to the beach
Trusty dog at his side
She’d told him to take care
Watch for the rising tide

The guests began to gather
Excitement on the rise
First she heard the screaming
Then she heard the cries

She leaves the flowers daily
The bench is now a shrine
She vows to never ever
Remove the birthday sign

I made this entry for a monthly bench challenge.  I am not participating regularly anymore but will just post some bench poems I prepared.



We always have this argument
To make me mad you are hellbent
Forever at each other’s throat
Locking horns over one bank-note
How you foment

You want to know just where I went
What I bought and how much I spent
Insinuating that I lie
Fanning the flames until I cry
You are no gent

You put me through pain and torment
And show towards me such discontent
I’ll buy all that I want and need
Bickering done we’re both agreed
I won’t repent

picture from morguefile





I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree






 A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the sweet earth’s flowing breast







A tree that looks at God all day

And lifts her leafy arms to pray





 A tree that may in summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair



Upon whose bosom snow has lain

Who intimately lives with rain




Poems are made by fools like me

But only God can make a tree




I had planned to post this on Arbor Day … April 24.



I stood and looked ’round everywhere
And felt within a love affair
With prospects for me that I saw
So filled my heart with joy and awe
If I would dare

While standing still in solitaire
Of destiny I was aware
If only I would go and seek
Courageously and not be meek
For risk was there

So glad that I did not despair
Or look at life and say beware
With confidence I found my chance
Fulfilled my dreams and found romance
I took the dare

picture from wikipedia

florette poetry

I saw this picture several months ago and thought it very beautiful. I wondered if we ever really stop and look at all the opportunities around us. Are we scared to take chances and let possibilities pass us by?

Happy Spirits

balloons2Release those somber spirits
Let fly each threatening thought
Cast off doleful thinking
Do not feel distraught

Liberate sad inclinations
Wipe clean the slate of doom
A buoyant frame of mind
Keeps happiness abloom


I wrote this poem last September.  It has been sitting in my drafts folder along with many others.  This seemed like a good time to release it.  The comments I received since returning have lifted  my spirits.   :)

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