Goodbye Snow!

So long Winter

Goodbye snow

You did your time

Now you must go.

Spring is here

Summer’s coming too

So we must say

Bye bye to you.

You held us in

Your frigid grasp

With temps so cold

We had to gasp.

Now disappear!

Be gone, my foe

No more Winter

No more snow!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I’m Going To Write A Book

I’m going to write a book.

A book?

Yes  a book.

A book about me.

About you?

Yes me.

It would sell in stores

Like Amazon

By the scores!

Yes, I should write a book

A recipe book?

No not that!

I can’t cook.

Then what?

About me!

Not about

A recipe!

I’m an author!

You Arthur?

No! An author!

Like a book writer!

Oh, I get it!

You are going to write

A book!

About you

And you can’t cook!

 

Ah! Finally!

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Think I Peed My Bed

I peed my bed last night.

I’m an adult, what the heck!

I awoke just before dawn

and my shorts were soaking wet!

 

How could this have happened?

Am I getting sick?

If it’s a sign of cancer

I should see my doctor quick!

 

I didn’t drink before bed

No coffee neither tea

So I have no explanation

For this unexplained pee.

 

But wait, what’s this?

Oh what a terrible sin!

This is something far worse

Than mere nocturnal urine!

 

I must apologize to you

Really thought I peed my bed

But lo and behold dear reader

It was something else instead!

 

Things sometimes are not

Really what they seem

I thought that I had peed my bed

But it was just a dumb wet dream!

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Want To…

While my hands rest
On your hips
I want to
Kiss your lips.
Feel your heartbeat
In your chest
As I caress
Your breasts.
I want to feel
Your body
As you lie
Right next to me.
I want to whisper
In your ear
Let you know
How much I care.
I want to say
My love is true
I want to make
Sweet love to you.

Not Tonight Dear

Should we have sex, hon?
said Gilles one night.
No we shouldn’t, said Rose
At least not tonight.
I feel ugly and fat
Maybe I am too old
I feel all stuffed up
I think it’s the cold.

Poor Gilles turned over
and he tried to sleep
while beside him his wife
Pretended to weep
It’s not you it’s me
She said with a sob
I have turned into
An unsexy blob.

But Gilles wouldn’t buy it
He loved Rose madly
It’s quite ok, honey
He said to her sadly.
You are fine in my eyes
I’ll always want you
You are, how they say it?
My honey boo boo.

He looked at his wife
Who was crying a puddle
And said Honey dear
It’s fine let’s just cuddle
And that’s what they did
Guess what happened next.
They both fell asleep
No they didn’t have sex.

I Hate Kids

I hate kids

with their grimy hands

and green grass stains

all on their pants.

I just can’t stand

their runny nose

and that filthy stuff

between their toes.

Running around

with dirty faces

tripping over

their own shoe laces.

What’s there to love?

Some say it’s cute?

But I just hate kids

And that’s the truth.

The Beatdown In Jersey

It was a bowl but not very super
Peyton Manning got bowled over
Seattle Seahawks vs Denver
A total beating? Was it ever!

Denver wanted their Quarter back
To buy themselves a Quarterback
Nothing could stop Seattle’s attack
So cut poor Manning a little slack.

It would go down in history
And every Superbowl story
A game that was so gory
And brought Seattle much glory

It wasn’t worth staying up late
To see a score of 43-8
It started right out the gate
And that’s how Denver met its fate.

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The Pregnant Nun

DSCN0381

DSCN0381 (Photo credit: Adam Comerford)

There was once a Nun

who had none.

Sex I meant,

not a pun.

Never touched by a man

except on her hand

She said sex was not any fun.

Her stomach was always sore

till she couldn’t take it no more

So she went to the doc

who said ‘You’re so full of croc

You are definitely preggers for sure!’

 

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Tired Of Winter

I am tired of the snow and cold.

Sick to my stomach, truth be told.

I don’t mind a little snow

But this crap just needs to go!

Like a hermit locked inside

My comfy house, forced to hide.

I hate to hear a windchill warning

Hey, what happened to global warming?

Some say it’s just a polar vortex

Excuses, excuses, now what’s next?

Maybe I’m just getting old

But I’m really sick of being cold