A Poet’s Lament

Hubby is quiet
Most of the time
Except when I
Am trying to rhyme

I compose a poem
Once every week
I aim for jolly
And never bleak

Hubby knows
My Sunday plan
In fact, of my poems
He’s rather a fan

I pick up my pen
To begin the ditty
Aiming for clever
Charming and witty

Hubby gets chatty
The moment I start
I have to tell him
I’m not that smart

I can’t converse
And rhyme together
Talk to me later
About the weather

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Cindy Come Home

She does not like it
Betty the cat
When I go away
And she’s babysat

She hisses and fights
And puts up a stink
This cat hates me is what
These poor people think

They feed her and tell her
All kinds of nice stuff
But whatever they do
It is never enough

Betty prefers that I
Stay put at home
I hear she’s a pill
When from home I roam

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It Ain’t For Sissies

The AARP bulletin did cometh this week
Its wisdom I did not know I should seek
But talk about bleak!
With cautious heart and soul most meek
This secret I most reluctantly leak
With pertinent and useful knowledge this newsletter reeked
Goodbye fleeting youth! I’m old now, and freaked!

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Busy, Busy, Busy

You’d think it enough
To finish what’s on
My to-do list stuff

Crossing off tasks
That is my goal
But while I’m asleep
A mischievous troll

Adds many more chores
To the list I have tackled
Making me feel
More or less shackled

Efficient, productive
I really do try
But this endless chores list
Makes a grown woman cry

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Wardrobe Malfunction

Jeans this style
I like and enjoy
But don’t know a way
I should employ
To keep hip huggers
On my hips
Because my jeans
Do tend to slip

A belt is useless
The way I’m built
The angle’s wrong
My hips, they tilt
Suspenders might
Do the trick
But not a look
I’m apt to pick

A good strong yank
I hoist and tug
Hubby shakes his head
I shrug
But fallen down
They haven’t yet
So more hip huggers
I plan to get

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