Pain and Suffering
Last week I had an
When I was changing lanes;
My car was totaled by a truck,
There's little that remains.
No one was hurt, no
Passers-by were quite amazed.
At home my phone rang off the hook
And left me somewhat dazed.
The calls were all
Proposed to file a suit,
To collect for injuries and pain
And negligence to boot.
The chance to make a
Most pleasing you'll agree
With absolutely no expense,
Just a contingent fee.
The fee will be
It really should be less,
But I don't care, it's free to me;
Consider my distress.
My old back ache seems
Now since that freeway flap;
The lawyer tells me I should wear
A special shoulder strap.
How kind the injury
They work so hard to bring
Fair play and compensation for
Our pain and suffering.
Tough Luck Desperado
There once was a tough
Whose den was a well-supplied grotto.
He was known for unrivaled bravado,
So long as he wasn't plain blotto.
He was seen at the
Now and then in a lonely cantina.
Some thought him a real mean hyena;
To catch him, there was a subpoena.
The guy could be
When he hit the camp commissary,
For whoever reacted contrary
Could soon lead a life sedentary.
While planning his own
His cello he played pizzicato;
At times he would switch to legato,
Though sadly knew naught of vibrato.
He yearned for a young
Who had taken the name Catalina.
She said she was from Argentina,
But in truth came from South Pasadena.
That maid he decided
Away to his crude sanctuary,
But she turned out to be Typhoid Mary,
And the hombre they soon had to bury.
But don't search Boot Hill cemetery,
For this nonsense is quite legendary.
The Classified Ad
The itch to travel, I
Until I discovered this classified ad,
That proposes a junket to ancient Baghdad,
With an option to probe the pleasures of Chad.
The offer's not valid
But only a lady who's stunningly clad,
Or a shapely, impulsive, and bold undergrad,
Especially one not inclined to get mad.
It's clear what he
an ardent comrade,
Who's ready to indulge in some amorous fad,
Starting no doubt
at his own private pad;
Whoever responds is sure to be had!
You can see that he's
But you already know my itch is real bad,
And traveling alone would make me feel sad,
So I'll join him - but ONLY as far as Baghdad.
The Perfect Poem
I can't believe my
Its rhyming couplets all hard-won,
A four-beat meter nicely paced,
With quatrain stanzas in good taste,
Images vivid and
Inversions avoided like the plague,
Metaphors neatly sprinkled around,
Hoping readers find them profound,
Spirited phrases, some
Like harvest moon and roses in June,
Cleanly cleared of classic cliches,
Modest use of alliterative plays.
I worked overtime to
Indeed lost plenty of sleep last night.
The only problem I hadn't forseen:
My perfect poem - what does it mean?
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