"We're all just fragile threads, but what a tapestry we make." – Jerry Ellis

Archive for the ‘humor’ Category

Guest Post: Tyler’s Class Project

So Tyler and his buddies had to make a video for his speech class.  What makes me laugh–more than the actual video content–is that Tyler has my warped sense of humor.  If you’re watching this, and you don’t know our family, you will most likely be unimpressed.  After all, I’m a blogger Mom basically posting my kid’s artwork on the fridge.  But listening to his friends while they were videoing it, and hearing their “logic” behind it, I just saw a sliver of my goofiness in him.  The ability to be a bit ridiculous and actually bask in the silliness of it all. Tyler’s the Richard Simmons-like guy in the short shorts and Bro shirt.

When I told him I wanted to put his video on the blog, I figured he’d be appalled, but he was actually pleased.  So here’s Tyler in his acting debut.  A non-politically correct way of dealing with bullies.  By the way, I posted his senior pic below so you can see him as the savvy business-looking dude he’ll be someday.  I am Mom, after all.

Boss Man T

Boss Man T

Category:

family, friends, growing up, humor, Music, School, teenagers

A Silly Little Ditty Bout Grandma and Her Birds

It’s the Friday before a long weekend, and I’m finding it hard to write anything serious.  This poem is part biographical.  No the birds did not escape and come back, but my mom’s birds are mean and they do poop on everyone and dive-bomb the dogs.  Oh, and they DO sit on their feet.  Grandma’s name has been changed to protect the innocent.

 

These are NOT my mom's actual birds...there's no way they would pose like this.

These are NOT my mom’s actual birds…there’s no way they would pose like this.

 

Grandma Cecil had a lot of birds
When we would visit, you couldn’t hear our words
The birds were so loud, and sometimes they were mean
Especially the one whose feathers were green.

 The birds flapped their feathers
All around the bird cages
Grandma kept them locked up
When they flew into rages.

 They would drown out the TV
And poop on your shirt
They’d dive-bomb the dog
But he never got hurt.

 Then came the day
Grandpa left open the door
“Freedom at last-
We’re behind bars no more!”

 The birds couldn’t believe it,
Up and away they did fly,
They flew past the stars
All the way to the sky.

 They were pooped when they got there
Wanting something to snack,
But once they’d escaped,
There was no looking back.

 How they missed Grandma Cecil!
And those crazy old mutts.
They missed those fine days
When they just sat on their…uh, feet.

 God had mercy upon them.
An angel he sent
But they had to go back now
To be sorry and repent.

 To this day they still talk
‘Bout that day and the flight
But never again
Left the house out of sight.

Category:

family, home, humor, pets, poems, poetry

The Achievable Poem

Happy Friday!  Today I was going through old computer files to clear some electronic “clutter” when I found an old poem I’d written for a class taught by Eva Shaw called Writerrific: Creativity Training for Writers.  It’s been at least five years ago, and I couldn’t remember much about what was going on in my head when I wrote it.  What made me laugh was that my writing style is still…ME.  Some things never change.

Here it is, including the prompt that started it.

Okay, Amy. I have a special nudge for you. I want you to write a poem of possibilities that you can achieve.

The poem should begin with:

Writing comes easy. I’m such a nut
When glued to the typing chair with my petite, pretty butt.

Okay, now that you’ve fallen off your chair…seriously I want you to finish the poem and post it. No excuses.

 

Writing comes easy. I’m such a nut

When glued to the typing chair with my petite, pretty butt.

I ponder exchanges between characters cross

And when the protagonist cries, I lament her sad loss.

 

She is such a dear friend, unfolding her story

In my ear she whispers with details—all the gory.

The antagonist, she bellows inside my head.

“She’ll get under your skin,” her past lover has said.

 

Of course, this is chapter 3

There’s much more to the tale

I’ve only just finished where she’s first drunk on ale.

It’s funny, endearing, and so fun to write.

To finish this section, I’ll be up half the night.

 

Oh the words how they tumble

From somewhere deep in my soul

They flow from my fingertips,

Like the ultimate goal.

 

“What a delicious day writing!” I marvel aloud.

I finish my piece and walk away on a cloud.

 

Category:

humor, poems, poetry, writing, writing prompts