Friendship — Hobbo’s Poems

I always love a good Hobbo poem. If you’re not enjoying his works, head over there now!

Photo by George Pak on Pexels.com
Friendship
My imaginary friend
and I both parted, at the end
she never paid her round in bars
or took her turn at doing chores.
She put on airs and took the Mick
but what was really rather sick
and turned our friendship to a joke was when she […]

Friendship — Hobbo’s Poems

Business or Pleasure?

I am a Business Showerer.

The instant I’ve guaranteed ten full minutes of distraction for my cute, little distractions; I’m in flight-control checklist mode:

✔Shower curtain, in position
✔Nozzle, adjusted
✔Hot water, started
✔Shampoo, secured
✔Bar soap, on rack
✔Razor, located
✔Towel, ready for reentry
✔Water temperature, adjusted
✔Hair, secured with safety loop

And … go, go, go!

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

My husband is a Pleasure Showerer.

The hour or so after he’s leisurely caught up on cell phone heralds from his porcelain throne; he’s in contemplative mode:

Tap water released
Phone, atop muddled towels
Awaits naked return

Meanwhile, I take bets on whether the hot water will run out before he does.

Photo by Tristan Malpelli on Pexels.com

A Freudian voyeur can analyze our freshly-scrubbed psyches by studying our bars of soap: mine is always a flat, overworked strip; his, a perfectly-caressed quenelle.

©2021 Chel Owens

Ted and Trudy

Ted and Trudy had been married forever; four years, in fact. Each still said he or she was in love. Still, each found himself or herself dreading the drive home after work.

Their marriage counselor tried. “What you need is to find and speak each other’s love language,” she said.

Ted and Trudy tried.

Physical intimacy didn’t touch on the issue. Spending quality time together made the evening drag on and on. Neither received gifts presently. Words of affirmation didn’t speak to either of them. And we won’t even mention how self-absorbed each became when performing acts of service.

It wasn’t until Ted finally snapped and complained about it all that Trudy felt an unexpected spark.

“Ooooh. Say that again, Ted,” she cooed.

Ted blinked. “Uhhh… the counselor’s charging way too much for something that’s not working?”

“Yes, Ted! Yes! What else isn’t working?”

“Uhh…” he thought for a minute. “That plumber we hired this morning was late, incompetent, and left a mess.”

Trudy sat up and perked up. “What else??”

“No one knows how to drive anymore?” He was starting to get excited as well.

“Yes! Yes!”

“Whenever I go shopping, I can’t ever find a good clerk! How difficult is it to know where the polos are?”

“Ohhh, Ted.” She drew right up to him. “What else?”

“The governor’s an idiot and this country’s being run by imbeciles!”

“YYYYYESSSSS!”

…..

Their counselor was surprised to see them practically bouncing at their next (and last) appointment.

“We did it!” Trudy gushed. “We found our love language!”

“Oh?” the counselor asked, intrigued. “Which is it?”

Ted and Trudy looked at each other, smiled; then, in unison, answered, “Complaining!”

©2021 Chel Owens

Kelly’s Shopping Trip

Kelly was claustrophobic.

Photo by MART PRODUCTION on Pexels.com

Of course, she didn’t know that. She didn’t even know what claustrophobic meant.

Not-very-blissfully unaware, she simply avoided the subway, most alleyways, rooms without two exits, corners, small grocery stores, compact cars, buses, airplanes, and -for her entire life- the game of Hide and Seek.

It was when Kelly mentioned how even seeing skinny jeans made her hyperventilate that a sales clerk clued her in. “Skinny jeans make everyone short of breath,” he explained, “Especially those wearing them.”

Kelly smiled in relief, purchased a muumuu, and walked the five miles home to her open floor plan house. She felt happy.

©2021 Chel Owens

WINNER of the A Mused Poetry Contest 6/30/2021

Better late than never, here is the winner of the last A Mused Poetry Contest before my annual summer sabbatical! Which amazing poet encapsulated eccentricity the best? (Warning, for those who are prudish, to skip this one 😀 )

Untitled, by Matt Snyder
Hi twiddily Dee hi twiddily Doe
I prance about and give it a go
Wearing nothing but
a well placed sock down below
my backside and top bits bask
about in a moonlit glow

hi diddle Dee hi diddle Dee do
with top hat and monocle
and a touch of class
How dare you speak of my big fat
ask me now I say to thee
I am but a man full of dignity
of Grace of flair
who cares if my sock is my frontal
Underwear

A middle e and a middle o
like a great cat’s meow
I must go
but not first without
leaving you with a taste of my riches
I remove my sock
to reveal my delicious
solid gold coc….
Sorry gotta keep
the end PG
for the poetry Mrs 😉

Congratulations, Matt! You are the funniest poet for the month!

From such a talented pool of writers, Matt’s poem stuck out to me …erm, that is- it pushed ahead… hm. Let’s just say I laughed the most, shall we?

Eccentricity’s a tough one to define, but not so tough to write cleverly about -at least for these poets:

Moon Dancing, by Frank Hubeny
The night sky is clear and the full moon is bright.
It’s nutty I know but I’ll dance in its light.
The moon doesn’t care. “Yes, I do.” Well, so what?
“You’re nutty enough.” No, I ain’t. “You’re a nut.”

An Eccentrics Guide To Lightening Up / Or; Go With The Flow, by Obbverse
A rare precious few view me as being one of a kind,
Far more as possessed of a most peculiar singular mind,
One gloomy psychiatrist classified me as slightly neurotic,
A better one called me, far more politely, simply quixotic.

Some call me eccentric, but that ain’t fair,
I prefer to think I think outside the square,
Others say my view on reality is a tad murky,
They say I’m ‘way out there,’ I’d say ‘quirky.’

The true eccentric is hard to define,
The clued-up eccentric rides a fine line,
It’s best to keep eccentricities on the down low;
Tone it down bro, or up to Bellvue you’re bound to go.

Some admit they think outside the box,
I don’t… wish to submit to electric shocks,
So, Doc, if eccentricity’s in the eye of the beholder
Just call me quietly eccentric- I don’t wanna smoulder.

Pickin’ a winner, by Michael Fishman
I feel an urge!
There’s something to purge!

I can’t tell it’s size
without a poke and a prise.

Is it soft as a sock
or as hard as a rock?

I won’t know a where, a what or a why
until I reach in and wiggle and try.

~~~~

I pick my nose.
And so it goes.

What’s that you ask?

Well —

It was yellow and green
it was curled up and dried;
and if I ate it or not
is up to you to decide.

I know it’s kind of gritty,
my slightly odd eccentricity.
And though it’s not so pretty,
I hope you won’t dismiss-a-me

Shopping Al Fresco, by Hobbo
When shopping for food
She always went nude,
A decision eccentric, if rash,
But the girl was no fool
And though sometimes cool,
She was never again stuck for cash.

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I plan to continue the contest once I return. Enjoy your summer (or winter) in the meantime!

Matt, here’s the slightly inaccurate badge for you to use on your site. Congratulations!

©2021 The poets, and their respective works

I Cannot See My Feet No More

I cannot see my feet no more;
I think they’re down there, on that floor
-Which also rests beyond my view
And holds those ‘lusive things called ‘shoes’-
…And more than bumbling me can know;
I oomph and eeek on stumbling toe.

It ’tisn’t fair, I amble, sigh;
Lamenting loss of pedi-sight.
That, as my motivation stops,
As belly button pokes and pops,
That I can’t see feet, floor or toe —
‘Cause I just dropped some cookie dough.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

©2021 Chel Owens

Heeeere’s Chel, out loud!

*I’ll post the results of the A Mused Poetry Contest tomorrow. Go ahead and enter if you haven’t yet; the judge clearly hasn’t had time to look at all the entries!*

The A Mused Poetry Contest 5/29/2021 – 6/26/2021

It’s, once again, way past time for our A Mused Poetry Contest. Better late than never!

  1. The Theme is a silly poem about an unusual eccentricity. In my ‘free time’ that is completely nonexistent, I’ve (still) been ploughing through In Search of the English EccentricFoibles, personal oddities, and strange collections abound.
  2. I recommend keeping the poem’s Length to fewer than 200 words, but who am I to suppress a slightly mad creative mind?
  3. I also recommend Rhyming but see the caveat, above.
  4. Rating: PG-13. Some eccentrics delve into less …acceptable behaviors of a less modest nature. If you wish to rhyme about such a one as this, allusions will be your friend.
  5. Above all, maintain a sense of levity. An unusual dignity, yes; but humor as well!

You have till 10:00 a.m. MST next MONTH (June 26) to submit a poem.

Use the form, below, to retain anonymity until results are posted.

Otherwise, include your poem in the comments, link to it in the comments, or leave a note that you’ve written one and stuck it on your own site in the comments. You cannot just link back to my post because WordPress is stupid and I will not receive it.

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©2021 Chel Owens

WINNER of the A Mused Poetry Contest 5/14/2021

The results of this month’s contest are a titch late, due to the family all coming down with colds. Believe you me: nothing takes the amusement out of amusing poetry like not sleeping nor feeling well.

But, we’re here to talk about politics! Who, among the entrants, came up with the funniest campaign promises?

A Sitting Member, by Bruce Goodman
A vote for me is a vote for wit
The other candidates are a pile of nonsense.

I promise I will never quit
The other candidates are a pile of rubbish.

My policies will be a hit
The other candidates are a pile of drivel.

I will lower your taxes a bit
The other candidates are a pile of gobbledygook.

You might think I’m a git
The other candidates are a pile of malarkey.

Congratulations, Bruce! You are once again the funniest poet for the week!

Bruce won for some sort of reference to some sort of word that seems to be missing as part of this rhyme. Well done.

And, well done to the others! Read them over and decide if they’re worth the vote:

Brief Campaign Announcement, by Frank Hubeny
It doesn’t matter, blue or red.
Vote as you will, alive or dead.
We own what counts, both big and small.
We’ve voted for you after all.

Truth Over Facts, by Dumbestblogger
No one pays a dime
Peace will reign sublime
Children will be fine
We will fix the clime
And you’ll be happy

Campaign Disaster, by RuthEK
There once was a campaign disaster-

When she said “I’ve heard nasty chatter”

The politician turned red

And said with some dread

That’s chatter that just doesn’t matter

—–

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Come back tomorrow for the next month’s prompt!

Bruce, here’s that ol’, inaccurate badge for you to use on your site. Congratulations!

©2021 The poets, and their respective works

Laughter is the Best Way to Cause Concern

I’ve admitted to a quirkier sense of humor in the past. Still, I always assumed my observations of humor were mostly in-bounds. I’m marginally morbid. Hardly ever profane. Rarely inappropriate. Never crude.

Yet, one of my coworkers admitted to her reassuring the others on the interviewing panel that I was being funny. She understood, but wasn’t certain they did.

Clearly, since I’m now writing about this, I’m stupefied. Bemused. Disconcerted! How long have others not understood that I meant what I said to be taken lightly? How often does this happen?

Am I funny?

I find myself funny…

I guess I should’ve listened when my mother described my sense of humor as ‘strange.’ Or, when a few blogging friends admitted surprise at my ‘wit.’

*sigh*

Have you had this happen? What did you conclude? Have you started attending Amusers Anonymous meetings as a result?

Photo by Elle Hughes on Pexels.com

©2021 Chel Owens

The A Mused Poetry Contest 4/17/2021 – 5/14/2021

It’s past time for another A Mused Poetry Contest. I blame the management. And aliens.

  1. This month’s Theme is a political campaign slogan and/or speech. You’ve heard the usual promises, mud-slinging, and appeals to special interest groups -now, USE THEM.
  2. Gone are the days of the Lincoln/Douglas debates; keep your poem’s Length brief and snappy enough to… oh, man; you’ve already lost the audience.
  3. Rhyming is up to your campaign manager.
  4. This will be broadcast to general audiences, so keep the Rating clean -or, at least realize that some ****ing ****s will be censored.
  5. What’s most important? HUMOR! When do we want it? By next month!

You have till 10:00 a.m. MST next MONTH (May 14) to submit a poem.

Use the form, below, to keep your record clean until results are posted.

Otherwise, include your poem in the comments, link to it in the comments, or leave a note that you’ve written one and stuck it on your own site in the comments. You cannot just link back to my post because WordPress is stupid and I will not receive it.

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Photo by Aaron Kittredge on Pexels.com

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©2021 Chel Owens