A Dash of Whimsy – The End

A dash of whimsy series has come to an end, but I hope the whimsy continues!

Humor is a form of resilience and right now, we need our resilience tools. No matter what we are going through, joy and laughter is there, even if we have to dig a bit deeper to find it.

Thank you to each one of the artists! You guys share with us your talent and skill and every bit of it helps unite us in getting through these strange times.

The new series, Still Shining will be starting in May! So, stay tuned for more art and inspiration!

Keep creating, keep your whimsy on, and stay safe out there, Ponderbots!

-Mia Savant

The Warthog from Hell – Song by Acoustic Librarian

A Dash of Whimsy Series –

Come view this musical entertainment by the Acoustic Librarian! Lyrics full of whimsy if I’ve ever seen it!


Lyrics:

THE WARTHOG FROM HELL

I fell asleep reading and had a strange dream,
From studying Milton and too much ice cream.
I found that I stood in a fiery place,
When out of the darkness came a horrible face!

A warthog from hell!  I see it and flee,
But looking behind, see it running for me!
I feel it gaining; I hear the loud snorts!
To be chased by a warthog, life’s just too short!

I raced through the brimstone pursued by the hog,
And nearly tripped over a three-headed dog!
The swine at my heels was threatening death!
But could that be worse than the smell of its breath?

I spotted a palace by sulphurous lakes,
And stepped through the door to a room full of snakes!
Giant ones, hissing; I’d no place to hide!
And toward me they slithered till the hog ran inside.

A snake shouted “bacon!”  The hog gave a wheeze;
One serpent wrapped round him and started to squeeze!
The swine was dragged, squealing, to flames just outside.
I judged from the sizzle, the hog was being fried!

My watch began beeping; I soon was awake,
Back in my room and away from large snakes!
Sleep that inspires: Less strange now it seemed;
I doubt though if Milton could ever have dreamed…

Of a warthog from hell!  I see it and flee,
But looking behind, see it running for me!
I feel it gaining; I hear the loud snorts!
To be chased by a warthog, life’s just too short!


Artist:

 Acoustic Librarian is a songwriter, open mic performer and technology librarian.

Follow This Artist:

Follow him on Twitter at @AcousticLBR

Loo Roll Paradise/A Toilet Paper Fairytale – Art and Poetry by Jessica Renee Dawson

A Dash of Whimsy Series –

I think we all can relate to this next art right now! Jessica Renee Dawson has prepared an exquisite image and poem that might just have you rolling!


A Toilet Paper Fairy Tale

After the Toilet Paper Dress Bridal Shower Game, in ‘loo’

of the toilet paper panic during the 2020 Covid-19 pandemic.

Upon the steps she finds the paper

and reads of barren grocery store shelves.

She sends her love for toilet paper,

and asks for ten packs times-two of twelves.

He awakes at dawn and drives to town,

for more than four hundred sheets per roll:

She will see her friends in tissue gowns,

when they gather for her bridal shower.

Some yell at him when they see him buying,

so much more than a man needs for two weeks,

and though the people think he’s hoarding—

it’s the touch of her hand and her smile he seeks.

Someday, it’s a story they tell their children

of paper dresses that almost didn’t happen.


A Note from the Artist:

With “Loo Roll Paradise” I started with my wooden artist’s model and put a roll of toilet paper on it’s head and took pictures. I then took one of the photos and cut out the toilet paper person using the GIMP photo editor. I then found a free-use photo of clouds and sky on unsplash.com by Sam Schooler and placed the toilet paper person to a) look like he/she is flying b) to look like he/she is triumphant. In my 5/7/5 “haiku” like poem on “Loo Roll Paradise” I incorporated Jesus’ words “where your treasure is, there will your heart be also (Matthew 6:21) in “loo” of people hoarding/treasuring toilet paper. The piece is my comedic interpretation of people’s mindset in panic buying toilet paper AKA loo rolls. Actually, both pieces are my comedic interpretations of people’s mindsets or potential motives in hoarding toilet paper during the Covid 19 crisis.

Writing “A Toilet Paper Fairy Tale” brought me comfort during this difficult time of Covid-19 scares, and panic buying being daily in the news. It was a comforting outlet to romanticize in my imagination why some people might be panic buying toilet paper. As a person with an autoimmune disease I also find it helpful to use humour in coping with a situation which is potentially life-threatening to me.

Years ago, I attended the bridal shower of a close friend, and we all were asked to participate in the Toilet Paper Dress Bridal Shower Game. We we divided into small groups and given rolls of toilet paper. We chose one person in each group to model, and then each group worked on creating a toilet paper wedding dress on the model. When we were finished the bride to be picks her favourite toilet paper wedding dress and that group wins a prize.

Since spring is upon us: I have been thinking of people planning to get married, and the brides who may have their hearts set on playing the Toilet Paper Dress Bridal Shower Game at their bridal showers may be having a tough time getting their hands on toilet paper.

Reference: Original background photo on Unspalsh.com by Sam Schooler

https://unsplash.com/@sam

Reference: Toilet Paper Dress Bridal Shower Game


Artist:

Jessica Renee Dawson, lives on Vancouver Island, and has studied poetry, and English through North Island College. She has taken poetry workshops under notable poets, Lynne Knight, and Jan Zwicky. Her works have appeared in journals including: Poetry Quarterly, Under the Bashō, The Tulane Review, Wild Plum, and NonBinary Review. Dawson is also a former Stand Up For Mental Health comedian, and an award winning artist.

Follow This Artist:

The Brothel – Poem by Seth Brown

A Dash of Whimsy Series –

This Thursday is a good day for chuckles! Come have a great one with this fun-filled and pun-filled poem by Seth Brown!


“The Brothel”

I used to think

A brothel

Was a place you got soup

Imagine

A waiting room full of thirsty men

Not getting what they need at home

Never managed to consomme their relationship

And so they visit

The brothel

To fill the one need all men share

Soup

Many have sought out these soup-selling women

Ladles of the Night

Even a prisoner cannot be denied his soup

Which is why they allow the

Congee gal visit

But here at the brothel

Men get their soup in a private room

All types from clam chowder to tomato bisque to pho

Every man wants to be pho king

And you occasionally hear them

Overcome by these pleasurable sensations

Yelling out

“Umami!”

Another satisfied customer

Here at the brothel


Artist:

Seth Brown lives in the beautiful Berkshires in Massachusetts, where he sometimes performs comedy and/or poetry but more often stays home and just writes it. His award-winning humor column “The Pun Also Rises” appears in the Berkshire Eagle and other newspapers. He is the author of six books, and once ran a classical kazoo quintet.

Follow This Artist:

RisingPun.com

twitter – @risingpun

A Clockwork Toy – Video by Joas Nebe

A Dash of Whimsy Series –

Are you in the mood for something just a little different? Something to stretch your mind in a way that you may not have stretched it before? Well, come take a look at the work of Joas Nebe, a vibrant artist from Germany! Watch his video below and read about the thoughts behind it.

INTRO: A CLOCKWORK TOY

4k, color, 2020, 4m11s 
Reality is gone. Only shivers of reality survive. Worst then modern times, e.g. collages of DADA artists. Shivers are so many times broken that they cannot be put together again in order to re-construct reality or an adequate image of reality.

That means, reality is lost, out of reach forever. Mental landscapes and theoretical assumption, ideologies take over uncontrolled forever.


ARTIST ́s STATEMENT:


Gaming into Mindfulness
Interview with Joas Nebe by Rebecca Schoensee (excerpt)
“It’s a never-ending game of disintegration. I challenge the viewer
by not living up to his or her expectations. I am denying the
satisfaction of solving the riddle, hidden within the depth of my
artwork.” By turning his filmic cabinet of curiosity into an
intriguing jigsaw puzzle of hybrid geometric patterns, Joas Nebe
teases the viewer into accessing his game. He believes: “Riddle
games of this kind spark creativity and pass on the role of the
artist to the viewer.”


Taking the Reason Prisoner
To Nebe, “fantasy and creative intelligence are important survival
skills today.” So is chess, an analogy he keeps referring to: “Chess
exemplifies my game with the viewer. In a world of shortening
attention spans, it’s an ideal concentration-practice. One always
has to think a few steps in advance.” By screening the insanity of
our daily chase towards evolutionary bankruptcy, Nebe in a clever
move takes the reason prisoner, only to appoint reason to be the
king of his game of chess. He calls for a close review of the
encyclopedia of our philosophical and cultural foundations. In his
opinion reason has the potential to direct a path away from the
horror vacui he is depicting: “The model of enlightenment has
increasingly been discredited, wrongfully I believe. Today survival
and coexistence are only possible if governed by the faculty of
reason. Labeling and connoting intellectual categories help to bring
new relations into sight and to gain unexpected terms of knowledge.”

The interview essay “Gaming Into Mindfulness” has been published in
Humanize Magazine, issue 11, p. 20-31.
http://issuu.com/humanizemagazine/docs/humanize11


Artist:

Joas Nebe, who holds degrees in psychology and literature, is a self taught artist, born in Hamburg but now located in South Germany. After a few years in Berlin he decided three years ago to move south close to the French and Swiss border. Important exhibits include the artist´s “Climate Change Cartoons“ on display on exhibition “Letters from the Sky” which accompanied the Durban UN conference on Climate Change 2011 in South Africa and “Machine Fair”- a film about the mechanical site of a metropolis- shown at Museum of Modern Art, Moscow as part of “Now&After” screening in 2012. Other film works has been shown at 25th Festival Les Instants Video (Biblioteca Alexandrina, Cairo), Videoformes Festival 2014 and 2015, Sustain Our Africa, Madatac 3, 4, 5, 6 Competitive Official International Selection (Madrid), Papy Gyros Nights 2016 Hong Kong/ ART_TECTURE, just to name a few.

Solo shows are “Intrude Art and Life” at the Museum of Modern Art, Shanghai in 2008, where Santiago Capriccio, a short epilogue to the Philosophical Cartoon cycle was chosen to be one out of 100 non-Chinese artists to be displayed on public video screens in Shanghai for one day, 2016 “Encyclopedic”, a one night solo show at The Greenhouse, Berlin, 2016, “You Did A Bad Thing For A Good Reason”, solo show at Berlin´s Cormac Weiss Gallery, curated by Marinus Jo Dimitrov, IFEA (International Curatorial Award 2016) supported by Christopher Grape Fund; 2017 “On Nature” at 16:9 Gallery, UTCL, USA curated by Manzi Yang.

2017 Joas Nebe received a M 5 ARTS stipend for his video work “The Dictionary serial” (USA). 2017 he has been awarded with the Residency by Correspondence from The Arts Territory Exchange Program, 2018 with the Social Media Residency by Peripheral Forms and the Online Residency by Coldbench (all UK).
Joas Nebe ́s curatorial works have been shown in different European countries. He developed three projects to which international video artists contributed. “The Encyclopedic Cartoons Video Project” had it ́s premiere in Berlin and has been shown since in many European countries. His second curatorial work “the Proverb Picture Project” again with participating artist from different continents and countries had it´ s premiere on VisualContainer TV in 2014. 2017 Joas Nebe developed a project about democracy, scrabble and wordlists, called “The Democracy Scrabble Project”, had it´s premiere again on VisualContainer TV and (.BOX) Video Project Room, Milan in 2018.

Follow This Artist:

http://www.jsnebe.de/

https://joasnebe.wordpress.com

Lice Isn’t Easy – Humorous Essay by David-Matthew Barnes

A Dash of Whimsy Series –

Come read a fun and humorous essay about a young writer and a school play! You don’t want to miss David-Matthew Barnes’ entertaining work!


Lice Isn’t Easy
by David-Matthew Barnes

My playwriting career began with a typo.

As a child fevered with constant creativity, I lost hours flipping through dictionaries, fascinated by the meaning and sources of words. I conquered all competition at spelling bees, relished in my power to nail grown-up vocabulary like humanitarian and sassafras. I read everything I could get my hands on: TV Guide, cereal boxes, countless Nancy Drew books. While my friends tattooed the playground asphalt with chalky hopscotch squares and x’s and o’s, I devoted recess time to scrawling smudged haikus about sunsets and crocodiles.

I wrote my first short story at the age of seven. The assignment from my second-grade teacher was to write a few paragraphs about Halloween. I was charged with a sweet surge of adrenaline; the rush of a previously unknown exhilaration. No one had ever asked me to write a story before. I accepted the challenge and sharpened my No. 2 pencil. Lead hit paper and I experienced a state of reverie. While other kids wrote about ghosts and candy corn and haunted houses, I wrote a five-page story titled The Blue Witch. The mini epic told the tale of a sad witch named Isabelle who was suffering from a deep depression. Shunned by others, Isabelle decided that she did not want to be a witch anymore; she was craving friendship and true love. The reaction to my story was one of shock and awe. My teacher kept me after class. She looked down at me as I sat at my desk, paralyzed with fear. I watched her mouth; her lips curled up into a proud smile as she breathed on me, “You have a special gift.”

If writing was my best friend; television was my secret crush. I was thrilled by the plights of Electra Woman and Dyna Girl, mesmerized by the escapades of Charlie’s Angels. Unlike my friends, I wasn’t drawn into these shows because of the action and the actresses; I loved the stories. I would faithfully tune in to watch each episode, captivated by the story arcs and plot twists.

By the time I was ten, I graduated from reading young adult books by Judy Blume and Norma Fox Mazer to the risqué worlds of Danielle Steele and Jackie Collins. My television viewing habits shifted, too. Summer vacation became a boring blur of reruns of The Jeffersons and One Day at A Time. It was around that time that I found a new passion: The Young and The Restless. I discovered the show by way of my grandmother. She introduced me to her favorite program and I was instantly hooked. The show appealed to be on many levels; the parallel storylines, the emotional conflicts, the nail-biting suspense. It was by watching The Young and The Restless that my voice as a writer began to form and emerge.

At the age of eleven, I unintentionally wrote my first stage play. As my devotion to The Young and The Restless was bordering on an obsession, I had been inspired to write my own soap opera. For months, I filled up spiral notebook after notebook with characters existing in a world I titled Life Isn’t Easy. The epic story was set in a small town in Georgia (although I was born and raised in California), rich with love triangles, conspiracies, lustful doctors and nurses, god-like private investigators and ingénues that could have been canonized. My characters had glamorous names like London Crèbach and April Montgomery. The dialogue was riddled with backbiting insults and heated innuendo. The settings were decadent and populated with the affluent.

In sixth grade, I was a student at Theodore Judah Elementary School in Sacramento. It was there that I would meet a woman who would forever change my life: my first drama teacher. When the sign-up list for after school acting lessons circulated around class, I eagerly penned my name, anxious to discover a new universe that would eventually become an extension of my soul. Mauvey, the curly haired drama teacher, was everything that I wanted to be: hip, cool, bohemian, artistic, and fearless. She inspired me, challenged me, listened to me and most importantly, encouraged me. I delved headfirst into the world of drama and I swam like an Olympic medalist.

Two weeks after afternoons that consisted of charades, improvisational games and trust exercises, Mauvey announced to the twelve of us in the after-school program that she had decided we were ready to produce a play. In her professional opinion, we had each learned a mutual respect for drama and had potential to be great actors. To my eleven-year-old ears, this was the first form of assuredness that I had received that being creative was a good thing. While the words of my second-grade teacher stayed with me, this felt much bigger, more important, as if I were being initiated into a secret society.

Mauvey said she wanted suggestions: what play did we want to perform? Most of us had never read or seen a play, so the group fell mute and shifted with a collective awkwardness. Finally, I spoke, “I wrote a soap opera. It’s called Life Isn’t Easy.” I shoved a few of my ratty notebooks across the shiny wooden floor of the school auditorium. Mauvey raised an eyebrow and took the notebooks. We all sat and watched as she thumbed through pages for ten minutes. My best friend, Christina, sat next to me and squeezed my hand. She had read every single word I had written; she knew how important the moment was to me. Finally, Mauvey closed the notebooks. “You wrote this?” she asked and I was scared to answer. I nodded in reply. She smiled at me, seeing something in me that would take me years to discover on my own. “This,” she said tapping the cover of the notebook on top of the pile of others. “This will be our first play.” I gulped, swallowed and Christina tightened her grip on my damp palm. Mauvey looked at me and with her words, my confidence was boosted. “You’re a wonderful writer.”

I had an identity, then. I was no longer just a face in the hallway at school; the boy in the back of the classroom who was always lost in an elaborate daydream. There was a description, a bon-a-fide explanation that described who I was: Mauvey had anointed me a writer. I suddenly had purpose, a sense of being, a new soul. Immediately, I started to see the world from a different perspective. I noticed the occupations of people around me: a waitress, a secretary, a doctor, a teacher. I was a writer.

Mauvey put us to work at once. We spent three weeks painting vividly detailed backdrops, building ornate sets, making glamorous costumes, casting roles, learning lines and rehearsing, rehearsing, rehearsing. Each day when I walked into the auditorium after school, my mind swam with excitement and pride. Through Mauvey and my classmates, a world I had imagined was coming to life. It was overwhelming and I floated through my life in a permanent state of wonder.

Two days before opening night, Mauvey came into the auditorium looking a bit dismayed and flustered. She had a stack of lemon colored papers in her hand. “Look at what they’ve done,” she told us. She put the stack on the floor for all of us to see. They were promotional fliers for the show. They looked wonderful but the printer has made one awful mistake: he had changed the title of the play to Lice Isn’t Easy. “Oh my God,” Christina said to me, who had been cast in the lead role of Lisa McGall. “Everyone will think we have lice.”

We all started to scratch our heads as if we’d been simultaneously infected. Christina whipped out a comb from her backpack and ran it through her hair violently. Derek, a future hottie with a body and the hero of my play, ran to the nearest drinking fountain and tried to maneuver his skull beneath the spigot. Stephanie and Wendy, the inseparable best friends who only spoke in unison, declared at once, “We’re gonna die!” and held onto each other as if our plane was going down.

“No,” Mauvey said, exuding authority. “We can fix this. It’s a minor setback, but as they always say, the show must go on.”

Christina stopped combing. Derek returned with wet hair. Stephanie and Wendy let go and began to breathe again.

Mauvey, the miracle worker, pulled out a black permanent marker from her mirror beaded purse that reeked of patchouli. With one single glide of her hand, she saved our reputation. She changed the “c” to an “f”. It took hours but we all changed every flier.

Friday night the auditorium was packed. Parents and siblings and teachers filled the room, all of them anxious to see Life Isn’t Easy. My mother worked the concession stand and sold her sticky Rice Krispie treats for a quarter a pop. My younger brother had to be blackmailed into being on his best behavior with promises that someone would take him to see Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo.

I was backstage, where Christina and I and our co-stars clung to each other in terror, wracked with nerves and fright. Mauvey, our creative mother, calmed us down, skyrocketed our spirits with a positive pep talk and reminded us what a talented group we were.

The curtain rose. The lights came up. The actors took their places. Their mouths opened and I watched, and I listened as my words filled the air around us. I know, I know. The play was only produced in a school auditorium at an elementary school, but in my eleven-year-old opinion, Life Isn’t Easy was way better than any episode of The Young and the Restless.

Today, the faded lemon flier hangs in my home office. Each time I look at the scripted black “f” that covers the botched “c”, I am reminded that even a typo can’t stop fate.


Artist:

David-Matthew Barnes

Author. Playwright. Poet. Screenwriter.

Follow This Artist:

davidmatthewbarnes.com

FB/IG/Twitter: @dmatthewbarnes

Gravity Grateful/Six Pounds of Sin – Art Collaborations by Mark Blickley & Amy Bassin

A Dash of Whimsy Series –

Mark Blickley & Amy Bassin create text based art collaborations together. Today they bring us some humorous pieces of art to bring us a chuckle!



Artists:

New York artist Amy Bassin and writer Mark Blickley work together on text-based art collaborations and videos.  Bassin is co-founder of the international artists cooperative, Urban Dialogues. Blickley is the author of ‘Sacred Misfits’ (Red Hen Press) and proud member of the Dramatists Guild and PEN American Center.  Two of their videos will represent the United States in the 2020 year-long world tour of Time Is Love: Universal Feelings: Myths & Conjunctions, organized by the esteemed African curator, Kisito Assangni. 
 Their text-based art book, ‘Dream Streams,’ was published by Clare Songbird Publishing House.

Follow These Artists:

Clare Songbirds Publishing House – Amy Bassin & Mark Blickley 

The Games They Play/Staying Home – Poetry by Ndaba Sibanda

A Dash of Whimsy Series –

The first poem today is particularly amusing because it was written years before this pandemic! Enjoy the words of Ndaba Sibanda!

The Games They Play

She didn’t fathom how that act
could be justifiable in this age

She thought in the name of decency
it was indefensible and reprehensible

Sisa had always associated leadership
with smartness and decorum, not insanity

It was he-The Politician—who FREELY sneezed
on the Opposition Men when he had a terrible cold!

Couldn’t he have had the courtesy to look away
or to cup his mouth with his hand or it was too sudden?

Sisa asked him why he was playing an indecent game,
he divulged when pressed he`d just piss on their heads too!

She then recollected the big talk about the Big Guys sneezing
and the Small Guys catching the bug and falling horribly sick!

Sisa pictured a tug of war inspired by narcissism, coupled with
greed and the love for flexing muscles instead of for humanity

She began to wonder about the big economies and their impact—
if China, or any big nation sneezes, doesn’t Africa catch a cold?

The giant versus the midget, original put beside the imitation,
how could a microcosm be expected to levelled out the ground?

There was susceptibility on one end and immunity on the other–
a chronic case of the West sneezing, Africa catching pneumonia!

For Sisa the manifestations came in many shapes and colors and sizes—
–power—people — and what they wore and ate and aspired for etc.

But still, was this always about the Big Guys doing the sneezing
and shitting , and the Small Guys doing the catching and wiping?

Maybe, she thought to herself—the Small Guys needn’t dwell
on sizes but tackle their issues with conviction like little David

N.B
The above poem was written a few years before the advent of the coronavirus. However, surprisingly it is evocative and relevant to the new reality.


Staying Home

You taught me new things
For you came with strings

You set conditions and actions:
Keep away from social interactions

If you seek victory over me: self-isolate
Avoid handshakes, hugs, kisses as you greet!

You taught me to observe personal hygiene
In a better light, to invite all souls to intervene

These are unmatched times of social distancing
Mass closures of entities, a shift in everyday living

Did I know that you are a new reality, a pandemic?
Daily life you hamper, your wings unselective, epidemic

An enemy of humanity, you are beatable, indiscriminate
Our health heroes, here they strategise, swing to eliminate!


Artist:

A 2019 Pushcart Prize nominee, Ndabas poems have been widely anthologised. Sibanda is the author of The Gushungo Way, Sleeping Rivers, Love O’clock, The Dead Must Be Sobbing, Football of Fools, Cutting-edge Cache: Unsympathetic Untruth, Of the Saliva and the Tongue, When Inspiration Sings In Silence and Poetry Pharmacy. His work is featured in The Anthology House, in The New Shoots Anthology, and in The Van Gogh Anthology, and A Worldwide Anthology of One Hundred Poetic Intersections. Some of Ndabas works are found or forthcoming in Page & Spine, Peeking Cat, Piker Press , SCARLET LEAF REVIEW , Universidad Complutense de Madrid, the Pangolin Review, Kalahari Review ,Botsotso, The Ofi Press Magazine, Hawaii Pacific Review, Deltona Howl, The song is, Indian Review, Eunoia Review, JONAH magazine, Saraba Magazine, Poetry Potion, Saraba Magazine, The Borfski Press, Snippets, East Coast Literary Review, Random Poem Tree, festival-of-language and Whispering Prairie Press.
Sibandas forthcoming book Notes, Themes, Things And Other Things: Confronting Controversies ,Contradictions And Indoctrinations was considered for The 2019 Restless Book Prize for New Immigrant Writing in Nonfiction. Ndabas other forthcoming book Cabinet Meetings: Of Big And Small Preys was considered for The Graywolf Press Africa Prize 2018.
Sibandas other forthcoming books include Timbomb, Dear Dawn And Daylight, Sometimes Seasons Come With Unseasonal Harvests, A Different Ballgame and The Way Forward.

Follow This Artist:

 Let`s Get Cracking! – Ndaba Sibanda - WordPress.com

Dear Editor/I Want a Writer’s Block/Virtual Love/By All Accounts – Poetry by Joan McNerney

A Dash of Whimsy Series-

Giggles and smiles will become a part of your day when you read the following poems by Joan McNerney!


Dear Editor:

Unfortunately I’m unable to

accept your rejection.

So many come in, it is

possible to accept only a few.

Due to staff limitations

no specific comment

can be made on yours.

Be assured it received

a careful reading.

I do hope you find a home

for this rejection.

Remember rejections are my

foundation and lifeblood.

Always feel free to send more.

Joan McNerney,

Poet


I Want A Writer’s Block

A real writer’s block.  After I’m finished

writing, I could run and skip down streets

with all the other writers on the block.

Compare notes, exaggerate and have fun.

Another good one would be a crystal block

on which the great master works are contained.

Stick it in a pocket and read it with my

fingertips.  Why strain my vision?

How about this?  A big block of ice cream

oozing pass throat filled with inspiration.

Or a chocolate block made from creamy images.

I want a writer’s block.  Any or all of the above.


Virtual Love

A

long

slim

poem

full of hyperbole

and alliteration drifted

into the wrong e-mail box.

There she met an erudite

rich text format.

They became attached.

Her fleeting metaphors

lifting his technical jargon.

They were a word couple

spinning through cyber space

giddy with inappropriate syllables.


By All Counts

Proper and improper fractions

have distinctive differences.

Proper fractions study at

prestigious universities.   They

attend cultural events and play

at least one musical instrument. 

Proper fractions step aside

for ladies patronizing

haute couture shops.

Improper fractions are hooligans.

Each one guzzles cheap beer,

crunching potato chips while

screaming at wrestling matches.

Improper fractions knock over

seniors to reach clearance racks.

Beware of mixed figures.  These

hybrids can not decide what they are.

Medication might help them plus

talking therapy so popular today.  Never

allow children to associate with them.

Negative numerals should be avoided. 

Those will only subtract from your life

flinging freezing rain in your face.

Conversely, positive numerals are

delightful handing us glowing statistics

and bright bouquets of fragrant daisies.

Never take integers for granted.  Do not

allow yourself to be divided but let

all quotients be fruitful and multiply

until that day when your number is up.


Artist:


Joan McNerney’s poetry has been included in many literary magazines such as Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Poet Warriors, Blueline, and Halcyon Days.  Four Bright Hills Press Anthologies, several Poppy Road Review Journals, and numerous Spectrum Publications have accepted her work.  Her latest title, The Muse In Miniature, is available on Amazon.com and Cyberwit.net.  She has four Best of the Net nominations.