By Bill Schott
Morning and day's end,
separated by some hours,
like child to adult;
then, after the brief darkness...
dawn begins eternity.
| Author Notes | Selfie of my grandson Liam and me. |
By Bill Schott
A fine moment has come around
from air to ground
missile launch blasts
a peace that lasts
We finally will know the calm
atomic bomb
will bring the end
to foe -- and friend
Why wait through sabre rattling
endless battling
one press to send
our peace... the end
| Author Notes |
L= love, last, logical, lethal, and long-anticipated
When all else fails, failure is the new world Thanks to seshadri_sreenivasan for use of the artwork |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to Elinor Rakowski for use of the art |
By Bill Schott
There's a tale of a porcine trio,
three siblings in need of a house;
one brother was Plazzo,
another was Chaz, oh,
and the sister was Suey Sin Souse.
Plazzo was quite conservative,
felt a house of excelsior cool.
Chaz felt he'd pass,
as it would lack class,
and Suey said he was a tool.
Plazzo said, "Hey, I'll build anyway.
It will likely go up pretty quick."
The others did laugh
at his material gaffe,
as Chaz showed Suey a stick.
"As you can see, my sweetest sister,
I've got sturdy sticks for the build."
She replied, "What a hassle
for a kindling castle;
in the end you will likely be killed."
She left him there gathering up
twigs he would need for his shack;
"They are sad SOBs,
could have built adobes,
to hold a big bad wolf back."
To mercifully skip to the chase,
Suey Sin Souse constructed a fort
to prevent a wolf's entry
to devour the gentry --
made of bricks was the last report.
So -- the big bad wolf soon arrived
at the house that was of straw
he sneezed at the hay
then wandered away
to a house of sticks he saw.
On the stick house he got a sliver,
made him cry like a yippy young pup;
stomped off in a huff,
after having enough,
and gobbled the third piggy up.
The moral is likely not clear,
but a mistake is quite hard to hide;
when your house has the features
to hold back bad creatures --
it's useless if you're not inside.
| Author Notes | Thanks to SCHATZLING for use of the apt artwork. |
By Bill Schott
Live on.
Survive.
We will not win now,
but life leads to the future--
where vict'ry awaits.
By Bill Schott
Two thousand eighteen
unquestionably will be the year
verified proof of collusion
will keep Trump in office
People love a sinner
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to ThoughtCo for use of the image. |
By Bill Schott
Integrity just can't be found
Not much can ever turn around
The loss of trust we all may feel
Eliminating Trump's appeal
Galvanizing discontent
Russians, Nazis, malcontent
Is this what makes the U.S great?
The rich man's senate and racial hate.
You can't believe a word he says;
Is that what we want in a Prez
By Bill Schott
The earwig crawls in
Nestling nicely within you
Sanity slips out
The python flexes
muscle with a mouth unhinged
you're eaten alive
Spider eggs are hatched
The host still remains alive
The first feast begins
By Bill Schott
Go grab God's greatest gift -- Grace
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Photo from Google images |
By Bill Schott
Take this
from my cold, dead hand.
This weapon
calmed a savage land.
Careful where it’s aimed.
| Author Notes |
Image from Google. (Pixabay.com)
Anybody get this? |
By Bill Schott
Sandbox: hour glass of timeless memories.
| Author Notes | My wife and grandchildren discovering the fun of the sandbox. |
By Bill Schott
Rapidly wrote for this verse,
wondering if winning's worse
than losing like I will do
if everyone else knew
that this contest existed,
and then they all insisted
joining. I won't win the purse.
| Author Notes |
Image from Google. Pixabay.com
Rapidly wRiting wondering winning's worse Losing like ev-er-y-one else That this then they won't win |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to bpellephoto for use of the photographic art. |
By Bill Schott
Zebra and Giraffe
never allowed to be friends
equine and bovine
in a domestic scene seen
as horse and cow together
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to Vivian8049 for use of the image |
By Bill Schott
Without needed and valid credentials
Xylophone teachers might skip the essentials
You could still learn to percuss this device
Zebras might sing with a chorus of mice
and the audience would all be your clones
By Bill Schott
With you I'm completed;
I'm all through, defeated.
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to farmgramma for use of the pic |
By Bill Schott
Xenophobia
Not America's problem
Probably foreign
| Author Notes | Xenophobia is a severe mistrust of another culture and its people |
By Bill Schott
Blood across the world
attitudes are wrongatudes
the killing must end
| Author Notes | Thanks to Renate-Bertodi for use of the artwork |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to GaliaG for the cool image. |
By Bill Schott
Billy started writing notions down
Hoping random thoughts might hold a gem
When his gripping hand began to cramp
It was then
he realized his pen
--- was ablaze
Suddenly such images burst forth
Eruptions, deluge, worlds on the brink
Galactic cataclysms
Margins thick with ink
Enough to make him think
---he lacked structure
By Bill Schott
Need a good story
I really like this quill pen
Wonder who's on line?
'It was a rainy morning...'
feather is mesmerizing
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
I will try this gosh dang format
I'm no good at
Write a Minute
With what's in it
Eight syllables in the first line
Then four, three times
Couplet rhyming
On-off timing
Three twenty syllable stanzas
This ain't Kansas
Gone off the rails
Minute po'm fails
By Bill Schott
The worm ball had found themselves
in a double yellow line
which was an experience
not one of the worms it seems
had dealt with either alone
or as a worm ball before
eventually birds came
By Bill Schott
There she is -- Oh yeah!
my Galaxy 500
Got to hit the road
| Author Notes | Thanks to Sean T Phelan for use of the art |
By Bill Schott
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
| Author Notes | This is a variation on a theme. |
By Bill Schott
The perfect diet
for zombie overeaters.
No peristalsis.
| Author Notes | Thanks to Tia for spelling |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to Mara del Mar for use of the photo |
By Bill Schott
With pen in hand and
an imagination which
lacks firm fetters, he
looses his malignant and
mad imaginings outward
| Author Notes | Thank you to Angelheart for the use of the super cool graphic. |
By Bill Schott
Larry will tarry while Jill lets Jerry comb her hairy ass.
By Bill Schott
I admire how you chew with your mouth closed.
Your refinement will shine as we sit here and dine.
You've enjoyed the gazpacho with port;
Smiled after tasting the raspberry torte;
I suspect you won't mind coffee I'll freshly grind.
I admire that you scream with your mouth closed.
Your manners bear out even during fear and doubt.
I laced the gazpacho with strychnine;
The nightshade grows by the raspberry vine;
You've turned quite blue; I guess dinner is through.
It's nice to see you with your mouth closed.
Your verbal transgressions have been my obsession.
'The rest is silence.'
| Author Notes | 'The rest is silence.' is the final line from Hamlet. |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to Browncat for use of the picture |
By Bill Schott
The wooded path is narrow
where the sun cannot shine through
It's seldom trod without a lamp to keep your footsteps true
A misstep may be made a time when nothing foul befalls
another time might meet design of evil's cruelest
cause
Stay on the path and dodge the wrath of wraith, or wolfen cursed
make it to the destination without the wear for worst
| Author Notes | Thanks to Renate-Bertoli for use of the art |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes |
Thanks to shadopups for use of the art
Yoi ich in i chi wo = How are you doing? |
By Bill Schott
Within so little a hand
one finds the secrets of eternity
the meaning of existence
revealed to the scrupulous observer
| Author Notes | Pic from Google |
By Bill Schott
By Bill Schott
Ass
-imilate into death. Dig my own
hole
| Author Notes | Graphic from Google |
By Bill Schott
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to cleo85 for use of the picture |
By Bill Schott
Amber Huesta said she use ta
fall asleep in her jacuzz'sta
'cause she drank the 'sham-pag-nee'
which also often made her pee
In her ja-cuz-zi ?
AmHoo, as her friends would call her
won the lotto super baller
soon she bought a pre-owned truck
with a bed of corn to shuck
as a token of her luck
Her new friends helped her spend her dough
on gifts for them and booze and 'blow'
until there was just her and Dom
a magnum of the Perignon
in her hot tub nearing dawn
With the sunrise it was found
she had gotten drunk and drowned
surrounded by her unpaid bills
empty chairs and unknown pills
in a trailer outside Bev'ly Hills
By Bill Schott
Alabaster bastard
Couldn't be more dastardly
Even if he fortified
His heinous anus mastery.
Go ahead - insinuate
That I'm just hallucinating
And am then not justified
To lynch him in a 'noosinating'
Cannot wait for your consensus
While we all are so defenseless
Careful where you step inside
Your stinking white flea-bag crapped on the new carpet
| Author Notes | Noosinating will not be in the dictionary. |
By Bill Schott
Our temples rise from
the same earth at the same time
though some seem taller;
the sight from those temples seems
to skew their occupants' views
| Author Notes | Thanks to GaliaG for the great photo |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to avmurray for use of the art |
By Bill Schott
Remote location
guaranteed to provide an
exhilarating
experience that lasts
until asphyxiation
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to MKFlood for use of the art piece. |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to SteveANH for use of the photo art |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to MKFlood for use of the art |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to MoonWillow for use of the art work |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to bd shutterspeed for use of the picture |
By Bill Schott
He struggles to sit up
And he labors to lie down
Half his joy is in an urn
And the other in the ground
Now there comes a summer
When life bursts all around
But his moments are all joyless
Laughter, merely sound
Each day is like an ocean
Where he swims and hopes to drown
An endless sea of sorrow
With his buoyancy profound
Perhaps he'll die this evening
From an accident that burns
This shell that hell embodies
To the ash that goes in urns.
| Author Notes | Make a wish and start the fire |
By Bill Schott
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | My son Adam and my granddaughter Emily after a day of play |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to neilnap773 for use of the shot |
By Bill Schott
Whenever my umbrella's left at home
The rain will fall as if a flood is due
And if I chance to bring it on the bus
I'll leave it there just prior to deluge
Though weathermen can tell us when it's wet
And Auntie Aubrey's knee predicts the rain
I find that if I plan for a monsoon
The driest air will enter on the scene
But I will never curse the water drops
Though I may be a soggy citizen
Nor wish the torrent cease so I may dry
When nothing is more dense with dew than I
For I've traversed the globe in desert heat
With swollen tongue and less than thimble's drink
So short of flood or jettison at sea
I’ll not lament precipitation's fall
| Author Notes | Thanks to MoonWillow for use of the graphic |
By Bill Schott
The tiny duckling
Waddles across the highway
Unforgiving car
Kids scream; driver poops his pants
Duckling wanders unaware
| Author Notes | Google Images |
By Bill Schott
Twin girls
Suddenly frightened
Beside themselves
| Author Notes | This senryu does not conform to a syllable count. |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to GaliaG for use of the art |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to GaliaG for use of the shot |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to SemiSarah for use of the image |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to VINCEFALLERT for use of the art |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Image from Google and probably madmagazine.com |
By Bill Schott
Why did I eat that?
No more pickled snails
and warm tequila
| Author Notes | Thanks to Moonwillow for use of the art |
By Bill Schott
No one owns me man!
I am my own cow. Unique!
What's this on my ear?
| Author Notes | Thanks to Anne for use of the picture. |
By Bill Schott
You
may not
want to say
what's on your mind.
You know, however,
that we will know some day,
and then we may well find that
our heartbreaks and tribulations
were needless and on account of you--
a silent voice in the cacophony
By Bill Schott
Working with wording
one digests many letters
You are what you eat
| Author Notes | Thanks to lynnkah for use of the art |
By Bill Schott
Do you see my face?
Before shifting dimensions
I was a princess
They say we will soon forget
what we wanz weer waa wa a--
| Author Notes | Thanks to avmurray for use of the groovy pic |
By Bill Schott
There are tools used to open hearts and minds.
They are smiling, piercing eyes, shaping hands,
and
water boarding.
By Bill Schott
No arrests
were made today
No one died
People survived
February 29th
| Author Notes | The 29th of February only occurs every four years. |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to Mr Jones for use of the pic |
By Bill Schott
There once was a German named Adolf,
who found that his planning had paid off;
but his plans went kaput,
filled his mouth with his foot
and now he is seen as a dumkopf.
| Author Notes | Picture from internet ; http://www.moolf.com/images/stories/Funny/Adolf-Hitler-Funny-Pictures/Adolf-Hitler-Funny-Pictures-3.jpg |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to Wolf6249103 for use of the art |
By Bill Schott
Her food, expulsed from another's belly.
She waits to devour (she's the runt).
The pack is wet, cold, and smelly;
as they prowl, out on the hunt.
Their lean guts tightened from want,
they pounce - a fanged alliance;
Clenched jaws sense a pulse's chant;
the prey cries out - then silence.
The pack's reliance, ages old,
yet, not sated from the hunt;
not full, they fear the growing cold;
they turn on her - the runt.
The pack endures the violent cold,
tethered in reliance, ages old.
| Author Notes |
Wolves born blind and deaf. Young are fed regurgitated food.
|
By Bill Schott
Presidential xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
_____________
profiles change from man to man
but loud and deceptive stick to xx
Trump xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
By Bill Schott
Mom likes my drawing
She smiles and asks me questions
The fridge is my gallery
Dad sees my art work
He says, "Tape it to the fridge,
and get me another beer."
| Author Notes | Thanks to Doris 1022 for the drawing |
By Bill Schott
Knight to bishop's twee
Taut I taw a puddy tat
I been bad...Checkmate!
| Author Notes |
Tweety enjoyed a slight speech impediment.
Photo from the internet |
By Bill Schott
Her perfume lingers
though her countenance may wane
our memory stays
and with each passing morning
what departs... remains with us
| Author Notes | Thanks to Browncat for use of the photo. |
By Bill Schott
As the erosion
of our foundation comes near
we consider that
what we've blissfully enjoyed
is worth what awaits us next
| Author Notes | Nearing my second retirement and considering my options |
By Bill Schott
My friends wait for me
they keep childhood safe and fun
we'll soon play again
| Author Notes | Thanks to corrinascreations for use of the art |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to cleo85 for use of the image |
By Bill Schott
Bill Schott Productions'
The Attack of the Coneheads
conceptual art
attributed to dodgement
dedicated to no one
| Author Notes |
Thanks to dodgement for use of the art
The term Coneheads was originally a reference to KKK members in their robes. It was literally adopted by SNL Not-ready-for-primetime-players as an alien pre-invasion family that were somehow undetectable to people around them. It all seemed funny once. |
By Bill Schott
There were three turtles
sitting on a floating log
one was a killer
there were soon only two left
neither knew who would be next
| Author Notes | Thanks to marlak25 for use of the shot |
By Bill Schott
The darkened sky which
his nose illuminated
was split asunder
shepherds feared the beacon's glow
Rudolph flew to Bethlehem
By Bill Schott
By Bill Schott
Haber's Augmenter
George Orr's effective dreaming
Change reality
| Author Notes | Photo from web site http://static.tvguide.com/MediaBin/Galleries/Imported/Movies/8/42467a.jpg |
By Bill Schott
Nothing will be very fancy
Dinner's chancey
No one' looking
Grabbin' a pear
One bite was by someone taken
Stomach's achin'
Some more 'hooking'
Here and there
Up will pull his sleek Cadillac
She'll get some 'smack'
Then she'll not have
A single care.
| Author Notes | Dinner from the garbage can, because her pimp only takes. |
By Bill Schott
There once was a man from Livonia
Talked too long on a cellular phonia
He chatted three hours
During freezing rain showers
Until he came down with pneumonia.
| Author Notes | Thanks to carolcalkins for the use of the photo |
By Bill Schott
His name, like all things, had passed with the age,
and a remnant of his line is here with him now.
The room is far larger than any he had lived in before,
but smaller - much smaller,
than those I had lived in with him.
The shrinking of a life never seemed so real;
this deathbed vigil is providing ample evidence that
our kingdoms are towers that lose foundation
and sink with us into the muck that we,
in our prime, had risen above.
He seems so small now, so weak. Who would fear this man?
A man whose cutting voice was the terror of timid youth,
now "requests", "would like", says "please".
This is a foreign tongue learned in retirement;
reserved for guests, which, I guess I am.
The kingdom has shrunk to this bed, and his company, to me.
He must live, as we all fear we will, at the mercy of another,
who may take advantage of this moment
or bare a soul, which all should hope
remains cloaked in the benefit of a doubt.
What seemed so long now seems too brief - not enough.
He stares, as I lift his lids, then again push closed the eyes
that want to continue to see, all that continues to be outside of the tower.
The tower that has passed below the plane,
to join the past, that has itself been buried.
| Author Notes | I sat with my father through his final days. |
By Bill Schott
By Bill Schott
Ennead of gamblers assembled
Octagon held the two fighters
"It's even, we're placin' odds"
Half a dozen wagers
Fifes were playing then
Before the bout
Three punches
Too bad
Won.
| Author Notes | Ennead is a group of 9, octagon has 8 sides, ... |
By Bill Schott
She mends
my heart and breaks
my concentration.
I'm loose
and clinging now
to what was then.
Once a piece
but soon my whole
salvation.
Damnation
leads from her
and falls with him.
Ann Tonnim
a synonym
for angel.
That a devil
is too blind
to see.
| Author Notes |
The end words on each pair of lines are somewhat of an antonym to each other. (mend - break)
Thanks to Bruceiorio for the cool graphic. |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to CammyCards for use of the photo |
By Bill Schott
Arbitrarily
Picking a person to love
Can come with some costs
Payments too minor to hurt
Like cerebral x-ray spots
Noncapriciously
Selecting a type of phone
All come with such costs
Forgetting those microwaves
Toasting tumors in the brain
Indiscriminate
Call girls come when they are called
Their cost is well known
Lawyers in limousines laugh
this is your brain on trial
| Author Notes |
This is a mix of 'random' 'phones' and 'the brain'
Thanks to Bertodi for the great graphic |
By Bill Schott
Sperm unit drilling
fulfilling its one function
ova and ova
| Author Notes | photo from Google |
By Bill Schott
Alex, and three droogs
"Viddy well, little brother."
Ultra-violence!
By Bill Schott
Gelatinous eye goo on your cheek,
with the other you are winking;
Perhaps a vent of your frontal lobe
would help clear up your blinking.
Remove your tongue, remove the shriek;
this bleach sure helped the stinking;
soon I'll commence a cranial probe,
to see just what you're thinking.
Is this not the thrill you seek,
with your backstreet slinking?
To catch me in my wizard robe,
with potions mixed for drinking.
Yet here you lie, both tense and meek,
I sense your hope is shrinking;
Tomorrow I will cross the globe,
while in my swamp you're sinking.
| Author Notes | I thought the punctuation necessary. It may be annoying. |
By Bill Schott
A final finger
to the year that has lingered
and now ends too late
Donald Trump "wins" the White House
and the country's now for sale
| Author Notes | Thanks to avmurray for use of the photo |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Image from Google. Getty Images |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Image from Google and Pinterest |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to Renate-Bertodi for use of the art |
By Bill Schott
The scary season came around again,
which did invoke macabre poetry,
so I submitted verse to equal sin
and win a contest for its quality.
Then Dean entered the said contest as well,
and all my chance of winning went to hell.
My grossest scenes were like a bandaged toe
compared to Mr. Kuch's augmented gore;
where I tried to create the fright and woe,
his images oozed out from ev'ry pore.
Then Dean doubled down on guts and blood,
as I attempted phrases to cause tremors;
in impact, mine would compare as a dud,
fall beneath the feet of judging members.
So now I lay like roadkill on the road,
as Kuch collects the winnings he is owed.
| Author Notes |
Image from Google
a psawnut = a pentameter ABAB quatrain+rhyming couplet+two more pentameter ABAB quatrains+final rhyming couplet |
By Bill Schott
Friday rears its head
the ugly face of yard work
rises from the lawn
| Author Notes | Thank to Disciple 1974 for use of the pic |
By Bill Schott
Our next president
Political hack... Biden
or the Antichrist
By Bill Schott
Intuitively
Water seeks its own level
Perhaps to quench thirst
Perhaps to drown the idle
Or to irrigate new seed
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to VMarguarite for use of the artwork. |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to Renate-Bertodi for use of the artwork. |
By Bill Schott
I think of all the time I spend
reading/writing -- to what end?
No one will ever publish this,
I'll print it out and wrap some fish.
I've read a lot of poetry,
sonnets, haiku, potpourri;
sestinas, pantoums, villanelles,
and one writTEN without no Ls.
Some stories have been nicely writ,
with punctuation all through it,
and words spelled close as they will get
and plots--well, we're not quite there yet.
One day I'll be a famous author
like Dr. Seuss or Jeffy Chaucer
like Patterson in ev'ry genre
Aussies will say "Hey, Good on ya!"
Until then I will labor on
reading/writing dusk to dawn,
building up my powers of pen
and starting books on chapter ten.
By Bill Schott
My wife cooked breakfast this morning;
it was delightful and tasty.
Scrambled eggs and ham in a pan,
with toast that was closer to pastry.
Completely absorbed in this feasting,
I finished and hinted for more.
She told me I could eat at the diner,
after taking her out to the stores.
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
"Please find a tub for Katie's bears,"
asked my wife as I hung garland.
"They've got a house, and the bears are theirs."
"No argument here, Darlin'"
Each tub I found had things inside,
none empty for the bruins;
a thought occurred like a spirit guide,
now I knew what I'd be doin'.
An empty box which once had stored
a side by side fridge/freezer,
could hold all of the stuffed toy horde,
and make my life much eas'er.
I grabbed and tossed them all inside,
until her room was bare;
the reefer box filled, but I spied
more rooms with bears in there.
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
There was a man who always said,
"The best in life is mostly dead."
I wonder what he meant by that?
Why did he turn into a bat?
I know it seems so rudely said,
"The beast in life is grossly dead."
No secret to what's meant by this,
when that man is a walking fish.
The world, seems it has gone to bed;
our lease on life is ghostly -- shed.
As we shall lay us down to sleep,
counting werewolves chasing sheep.
| Author Notes | Image from Google. Tumbler. |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes |
wenge = brown
fulvous = brownish yellow glaucous = blue eburnean = ivory falu = copper xanadu = green |
By Bill Schott
I wrote a poem by the poet-tree
when an apple toppled down on me,
it landed on my head, you see,
on its way down to the ground.
On its way down to the grassy ground,
an apple tapped my curly crown,
but I just could not wear a frown
for the fruit apple-o-gized.
| Author Notes | Thanks to MoonWillow for use of the image. |
By Bill Schott
I'm writing a poem called a lim'rick,
with a beat and a rhyme as its gimmick;
tells a story that's bawdy,
sort of funny and naughty,
both of which this poem does neither.
| Author Notes |
Misspelling is on purpose.
The last word doesnt rhyme on purpose. Funny, huh. |
By Bill Schott
I am writing a po-em called Dim Dick,
which may sound a bit like a limerick;
it's all 'bout Ricardo,
whose friends called him Lardo,
but lately announce him as Slim Rick.
| Author Notes | Bariatric stomach surgery is where intestines are removed to accelerate weight loss. |
By Bill Schott
Leaving the city
is like being born again
escaping hell's grasp
| Author Notes | Thanks to pfemd for use of the picture |
By Bill Schott
Farmer's wife dices
sightless mice's tender tails
then looks for the cat
| Author Notes | Thanks to jgrace for use of the shot |
By Bill Schott
Took a banana from the bunch,
wanting a potassium punch;
on second bite I heard a crunch;
didn't know 'nanners' had seeds.
Hurt a bit and I chipped a tooth;
spat out syllables -- quite uncouth;
checked and found another tooth looth,
with thum evidenth that it bleedth.
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | gif from Google |
By Bill Schott
Let us remember
on this day in December--
dear Pam ...Gungalo
| Author Notes | She passed away in 2014 and was a shining star here. |
By Bill Schott
Now it's December and close to the end
of all that we know to trust and defend;
babies were born and others passed on;
new friends were found while some are now gone.
Time's Up for harassment and Toys-R-Us;
Democrats win some congressional trust;
Me Too movement moves men out,
as women receive some closure and clout.
Next year my smart phone can give me a zap,
if I am having a big heart attack;
my car will drive me for medical care
and teach me a language before we get there.
Journalist murdered, dismembered, and dumped,
which is all fine with Pretends-a-dent Trump;
"Show me the money, Mr. MBS!"
"Trump Tower in Moscow? Yes, Putin. Yes!"
Everyone is racist, whatever they say,
whoever they are, whatever the day;
our friends 'round the globe all think we stink;
so this year ends with the world on the brink.
| Author Notes | Why so serious? Just a little poem. Happy Old Year! |
By Bill Schott
By Bill Schott
It's the third trimester
so soon you will deliver,
but is your baby qualified,
for we are all aquiver.
Did you tap out mathematics
on your tummy time to time?
Play Bach and Stravinski
for her creative clime?
When baby gets evicted
from your prenatal womb,
will she be a starter in
the one-and-under room?
This is not 'starting early',
rather picking up a pace,
'cause the baby with the head start
will be ready for the race.
| Author Notes | Thanks to Renate-Bertodi for use of the art. |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | This lady has a huge thumb. (tee hee) |
By Bill Schott
You're doing great with any rate
that your meter travels;
perhaps you'll find within your mind
content soon unravels.
If I were you, I'd say what's true,
and what we all should know;
then if some meter must be met--
do what you want.
| Author Notes | Response to nancy e davis' poem "I Need to Met-er" |
By Bill Schott
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
Presuming there is someone who will read
these words, which I have summoned for that cause;
I pen this post to toast that dying breed,
who earn their lit'racy and my applause.
It seems like yesterday we read the tomes,
of which we drained such stories from their words;
one instance where some hobbits left their homes,
another where a town was cursed with birds.
But now, there is seldom lone perusal,
so few are entertained by written text;
items to be read meet with refusal --
a shallow generation is what's next.
So if you have some children, make them whole,
let reading build her brain, his heart, their soul.
| Author Notes |
Image from euread.com
I will work on massaging the trochaic feet out by the time the contest rolls around. |
By Bill Schott
Her presence is a coat in wintry breeze,
she breaks the wind --
She passes gas?
Oh please!
This is a love poem to my darling bride.
So when she farts, do you just go outside?
She doesn't do that, nor, my friend, do I.
So, no one ever toots or lets one fly?
Now may I please continue with my ode?
Yes, of course, but please use the commode.
An ode, you oaf, is a verse to present
a person, place, location, or event,
which has made an impression on one's mind,
just as my dear, sweet lover has in kind.
So she has never expressed flatulence?
No she has not, nor will she ever hence.
Should she, someday, be cursed with that wind,
I will capture its perfume and smell again.
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes |
Vokes = vocabulary
As readers (old term used to denote people who would actually read things longer than this parenthetical inset) get lazier, or are distracted more easily, the likelihood of anyone reading an item past the size of a tanka become less likely. TLDR = too long; didnt read (I would put an apostrophe in didnt, but it becomes crap) butts = but it is (my addition to the stupidity). (Apostrophes impossible here as well) Misspellings W intentional |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to jgrace for use of the art. |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes |
The title section apparently does not allow apostrophes. Here neither.
Thanks to cleo85 for use of the art. |
By Bill Schott
By Bill Schott
Hey,
Doc. Don't let your xylophonophobia
block you from enjoying your
glockenspiel.
| Author Notes | Image from youtube.com |
By Bill Schott
Freely Formed Friendships Forge Firm Fraternity.
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to VMargarite |
By Bill Schott
Iron Man.
Iron Man,
does whatever an iron can.
Could he hang from a thread?
No, he drops, just like lead.
Hey there!
There goes your Iron Man.
Iron Man.
Iron Man,
he'll be there when it hits the fan.
Presses shirts, any size;
pleats your skirts, not your ties.
No one
flattens like Iron Man.
On the strike of noon
at the scene of a crime,
like a big buffoon,
he arrives half-past nine.
He's been wrong
many times;
Radioactive
when writing rhymes.
Can he run to Cocomo?
In your dreams, answer's no.
No way
not that kind of Iron Man.
To him, life is a clothing crinkle,
wherever there's a wrinkle,
you'll find the Iron Man.
| Author Notes |
Original lyrics
Spider-Man, Spider-Man, Does whatever a spider can Spins a web, any size, Catches thieves just like flies Look Out! Here comes the Spider-Man. Is he strong? Listen bud, He's got radioactive blood. Can he swing from a thread? Take a look overhead Hey, there There goes the Spider-Man. In the chill of night At the scene of a crime Like a streak of light He arrives just in time. Spider-Man, Spider-Man Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man Wealth and fame He's ignored Action is his reward. To him, life is a great big bang up Wherever there's a hang up You'll find the Spider-Man. source: https://www.lyricsondemand.com/tvthemes/spidermanlyrics.html |
By Bill Schott
I came upon a word today --
it is, MYTHISTORICAL.
This defines a certain way
we RElate the rhetorical.
Our efforts help us to display
the past, a backward oracle;
what doesn't pass the smell test
becomes phantasmagorical.
| Author Notes |
Mythistorical = A history kept as part mythology.
rhetorical = how something is written or explained to promote a point of view phantasmagorical = fantasy imaging |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to Renate Bertodi for use of the artwork |
By Bill Schott
The Christmas cups are still hung up
and might remain forever;
no one makes the cocoa now,
no joy found whatsoever.
Years have passed but nothing fades,
her scent, her voice remain;
she visits me and brings me tea,
since I've gone insane.
| Author Notes | Some poems just go south. |
By Bill Schott
An errant ort of mouth-missed macaroni,
awash with sauce once lost from island coney;
with spattered mustard droplets all about...
better get a bib, dude. No doubt.
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
The cockroach killers,
dressed for successful stomping,
when bugs are cornered.
| Author Notes | Thanks to cleo85 for use of the image |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes |
Thanks to supergold for use of the great shot.
|
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes |
Thanks to jgrace for use of the art shot
|
By Bill Schott
KIM BER LY
is the greatest ever baby girl
KIM BER LY
is the greatest ever baby girl
KIM BER LY
is the greatest ever baby girl
the greatest ever
baby girl alive
| Author Notes | From my smart phone |
By Bill Schott
By Bill Schott
Love seems to slip by,
becoming a brief gust of wind which whisks past us.
It leaves youth, innocence, and anticipation
in an old house by the woods.
We could visit that rustic home,
where bare closets and tiny chairs
provide hiding places and comfort for memories,
but we cannot stay.
There are new structures to inhabit,
with closets to fill and chairs to arrange.
Youth and innocence can live here,
as anticipation whistles through the eaves.
| Author Notes | Thanks to Alaskapat for use of the art |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to Photowhisper for use of the image |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to Dick Lee Shia for use of the image |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to jgrace for use of the image |
By Bill Schott
Wake and celebrate, for we've survived a horrid fate.
| Author Notes | Image from giphy. |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes |
Image from Pinterest
I hope it is not too soon. I just don't think Dean would want us wringing our hands. As a fellow jarhead he shared the acerbic humor that dulls the edge on realitys horror. |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to Anne for use of the graphic. |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Image from Google aliexpress.com |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes |
Thanks to VMarguarite for use of the image.
Misspelling on purpose; honest. |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Image from CNN.com |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to suzannethompson2 for use of the image. |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Image from Google shutterstock |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes |
Image from Google
The Uni-rhymed nonet has been dubbed a mononet by Phyllis Stewart. |
By Bill Schott
You can only owe so long,
Eternal debt is always wrong;
A year to end all debts and sin,
Return the servant to his kin.
Oppressive debt that has no end,
Fifty years some families fend;
Justice calls for freedom’s chance,
Unshackled legs return to dance.
Born again some say to grow,
Illumination leads from woe;
Let us build a better world,
Espy the freedom flag unfurled;
Expect the Year of Jubilee.
| Author Notes |
The Year of Jubilee was a tradition of the Israelites to forgive debts and return indentured servants to their families. Nowadays some view it as a synonym for freedom from sin and a new beginning.
http://www.biblestudy.org/godsrest/what-is-the-jubilee-year.html |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes | Thanks to UVS7 prime for use of the image. |
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes |
Thanks to supergold for use of the image.
|
|
You've read it - now go back to FanStory.com to comment on each chapter and show your thanks to the author! |
| © Copyright 2015 Bill Schott All rights reserved. Bill Schott has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |
© 2015 FanStory.com, Inc. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Statement
