A Small World

No real issues
No big deal
But what’s surprising
A tad unreal

The other driver’s
A friend of a friend
And before either car
Was put on the mend

At the same party
We found ourselves
On our small accident
We chose not to dwell

It’s a small world
As this tale does attest
So it’s always wise
To drive at your best

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Wifely Wisdom

Life would be
So much easier
Things would run
So much breezier

If Hubby would
Simply agree
If the man would
Suddenly see

That I’m the one
Who’s always right
Whatever the problem,
Purpose, or plight

Cindy, go figure,
Always knows best
No need to ponder,
Question, or guess

If only he would
Trust me on this
Oh happy day
And marital bliss!

Husbands, perhaps
Might argue this point
Get themselves riled
A bit out of joint

But wives everywhere
Will surely agree
And right now are saying
“Just listen to me!”

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Whose Muse

This is nothing
But a lame excuse
But blame this week’s stupor
On my difficult muse
Whatever I tried
My muse did refuse
To offer anything that
Might remotely amuse

Here it is, Sunday night
And my poem is really bad
Considering my standards
This is truly sad!
Maybe these next few days
My muse will turn to glad
And what I end up writing
Will somehow turn out rad

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A Feverish Plea

As a writer
I pay attention
To any word
You care to mention

Since this week
I had the flu
“Feverish” struck me
I pondered anew

Doesn’t that word
Mean impatient and irked
High-strung, annoyed,
And going berserk?

Well, that’s how I act
Most of the time
My personality is not
What you’d label sublime

But when fever strikes
I’m all mellow and calm
A little high temp’s
An emotional balm

Nothing bothers me
My worries subside
I move a bit slower
Let the little stuff slide

So the feverish me
I rather enjoy
The feverish approach
I’d like to employ

Even when
I’m not feeling sick
To be mellow and calm
Now that’s quite a trick!

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