T’aint My Graine

Mrs. Sweet Boss don’t feel very good
And that makes me whole lots some sad
Cuz Mrs. Sweet Boss
Is the best boss t’we’all ever had!

She has a workin’ headache
It stops you in your tracks.
Wisht I could give her sumpin
To quell these cerebral attacks.

Maybe an aspirin,
Or perhaps caffeine tea—
O, Mrs. Sweet Boss
Wes’all’s need a smile from thee.

Mrs. Sweet Boss feeling kinda bad
But she’s the best boss wes’all’s ever had!

Advertisement

Another Poet’s Power Trip

7pm Friday evening:
The loner ponders a new blank page;
You’d think he’d have better
At his now advanced presenile age.
But no prospects permit,
And no leads present,
All in all
He remained a proper gent.

7:08pm Friday evening:
Some words managed to flow
Out of prompt sinus gyrae
And across the page, to and fro.
The rhyme lofted well,
The context sufficiently obtuse,
Pondering current lost lovers
[As usual TV fare was of no use].
But no prospects permit,
And no leads present,
All in all
He remained a proper gent.

9:30 Friday evening:
The night’s offering to WordPress Publish—
He’d not edited much,
Twas all a spot of heartache and sly rubbish.

10pm Friday night:
Off went the power strip.
Another headache for morning,
But for now: another poet’s power trip.
But no prospects permit,
And no leads present,
All in all
He remained a proper gent.