Humor Lines 


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Lines OnLine is now seeking submissions for its humor poetry contest "Rough Drafts" ©

Submissions should be based on famous poems..either beginnings or complete parodied versions.

What will you win? Gee, something... maybe several somethings.

"Valuable somethings?" you ask. Probably not. We're on a budget here

"Gunga Din" Rudyard Kipling (rough draft)

you may talk of fluffer nutter

when you're spreading peanut butter

having been commanded to the kitchen to make lunch

but when it comes to eating

you just keep on repeating

"you'll eat sandwiches, and damnit all you'll like it"

13 Ways of Looking at a Black Spot


1
Of all the things in my soup
my eye would only focus
on the floating black spot

2
I was of three minds
which accounts for my permanent record in high school
on which there were three black spots

3
The black spot caught between her teeth
it was a small part of her lack of appeal

4
A floor and 4 walls and a ceiling
are one
A floor and 4 walls and a ceiling with a black spot
are a nuisance

5
I do not know which I prefer
the exquisite annoyance of a black spot
or the smug satisfaction
of a black spot
after it's been successfully painted
6
Toothpaste filled the worst holes
as a quick fix
The mar of the black spot
flickered in the eyes
of the landlord,
traced in it
a charge against my security deposit
7
Oh people, people
why are you careless at parties
do you not see how the black spot
smears down the wall
behind the keg before you

8
I've painted noble base colors
and breathtaking trim accents
But I know too
that the black spot will bleed
through whatever I paint

9
when the black spot disappeared under the primer
it marked the wall
with one of many circles

10
at the sight of a black burn spot
on the white carpet
even my room mate
would get pissed

11
He moved to New England
In a U-Haul
Once, a fear pierced him
in that he mistook
the shadow of the oil pan
for the black spot under his '72 Chevy

12
The paint is rolled on
The black spot must be covered

13
It was yesterday all day today
His head was throbbing
and it was going to throb
the black spots before his eyes
wouldn't go away

Carl Seiple
seiple@kutztown.edu


Sonnet to the Poor Man Whose Parents Named Him
After an Amphibious Lizard



The Newt is too much with us, late and soon;

Strutting and preening, he lays waste all sense;

Too thick he is, and that much is too dense.

The dittoheads all echo to the loon;

The literates are howling at all hours,

They gather up his errors like spring flowers,

For this, for that, for all, they call him, "Goon!"

It moves him not. -- Great God! He'd rather be

A Christian suckled in a creed outworn;

So might he, standing in the grand TV,

Give glimpses that will make us all forlorn;

I had a vision that he came to me,

Tooting upon his own, well-wrinkled, horn.

Anitra L. Freeman
anitra@speakeasy.org

WARNING: The following does NOT contain a recommended cure for PMS. It DOES contain SATIRE.

If the Earl of Surrey Experienced PMS


That time of month thou mayst in me behold

when yellow skin, or pale, or gray does hang

upon these limbs that shake the paper, rolled,

against all choirs, and bares the ruined fang.

In me thou see'st the midnight of such day

as with relief does ride off to the west,

which black moods by each cry doth eat away -

death's second self, which stuns but does not rest.

In me thou see'st the raging of such fire,

paints dreams of glory on the blackened sky,

and makes the dark bed where it must expire,

consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.

This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong

to love that well which thou must shoot ere long.


Anitra L. Freeman
anitra@speakeasy.org

Deer Park Writer's Group


(1) Deer Park is the library

Researcher skims its glossary.

Every poetry from every psaltery

Progress in artistry.


(2) Writer is the group

Author plots a coup.

Every scoop from every soup

Stimulate a croup.


(3) Helen is the founder

Member resolves its bounder.

Every toner from every sounder

Unite as rounder.


(4) Commitment is the virtue

Composer longs to pursue.

Every cue from every hue

Recognition in due.


(5) Persistent is the character

Artist motivates attracter.

Every enacter from every starter

Fulfill as exacter.


(6) Creative is the secret

Producer never regret.

Every banneret from every anchoret

Ideal to interpret.


(7) Reader is the leader

Follower elects its adviser.

Every listener from every describer

Delight as subscriber.


(8) Deer Park Writer's Group is the gathering

Cheerer tells its fathering.

Every daring from every sharing

Feast in catering.


Amy Ting co239@freenet.toronto.on.ca

TODAY'S KID


Blessings on thee, little boy

Tennis-shoe clad and face of joy

with thy torn up 502s

and your sweat shirt - Seahawk Blue.

Your lips so red and red faced too

in love with Sally, apartment 92.

You hit the beach for your summer tan

borrow a surfboard from your buddy Dan.

Oh, my heart goes out to you

for I was once teen-age too.


Oh, that I could sleep til noon

breakfast on pizza and macaroons.

Enjoy your pleasure while ye may

for soon you'll find you're old and grey.


Connie Walle walle@u.washington.edu

Travesty of: Recuerdo, by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Ricardo


We were very redneck, we were very hairy.

We had run around all night trying to catch a fairy.


They were bold and bright, they ran fast and far--

So we gave it up, and headed for a bar.

We lay in the gutter underneath the moon;

And the sirens kept blowing, and the dawn came soon.


We were very redneck, we were very hairy.

We had run around all night trying to catch a fairy.


And you ate a taco, and I ate an egg,

And the health department's still looking for the yegg;

And your skin went pale, and I caught a chill,

And your nose was dripping, and I felt quite ill.


We were very redneck, we were very hairy.

We had run around all night trying to catch a fairy.


We hailed "Hello, you mother!" to a dread-locked head,

And ran away like blazes, quite certain we were dead;

We were mugged by a gang for our jackets and shoes,

And they took all our money. We didn't make the news.


Anitra L. Freeman
anitra@speakeasy.org

TIGERS! TIGERS!


Tigers! Tigers! Burning bright,

On the gridiron sod of night;

Who designed such plays for thee,

Formations of pure symmetry?


What's the signal caller's name?

Is he alone your cause of fame?

Who taught thy fearsome backfield three

To run with raw ferocity?


What the gameplan? Who the guard?

That opens holes for yard on yard?

And of thy defense, who made thee?

Forged thy rush velocity?


What tactician on this earth

To such complexity gave birth?

He used to think quite differently;

Did he who made the Rams make thee?


I'll truth be fired by our alums,

'Til to our team a leader comes.

Thus I all thy plays will poach,

Unless you let us hire your coach.


Tigers! Tigers! Burning bright,

On the gridiron sod of night.

Who designed such plays for thee,

Formations of pure symmetry?


Bill Shumaker passprin@erols.com


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