For a little change of pace, this is not a response to the WordPress Daily Writing Prompt. Instead, it’s a response to this news item: Mystery pooper at N.J. high school’s track turned out to be superintendent
This stuff really happens. I just make poems about it. 😉
There’s something laying on the track,
A shiny little tube of black.
I’ve seen one like it every morn;
Wherefrom are these wonders born?
Do relay racers drop baton?
Is this a daily doggie bomb?
Who thinks our track’s an outdoor pooper?
I can’t believe it. It’s our Super!
This medical corset’s not working.
As a dancer, my duties I’m shirking!
When I bent to plie
I felt something give way.
Now this ab rupture keeps me from twerking.
Overheard at the haberdashery convention:
“That tailor is sew off the cuff–
Compleately biased basting.
He’s darning us with verbal darts
And notions not worth facing.”
“It seams his chintzy wares will also reek.
Let’s leave before he comes unknit in pique.”
I guess there is simply no beating it.
This ritual, I’ll be repeating it.
I gorged at the feast
On too much of the beast–
Now my ass-ton is sh*tting a sheet of it.
“My darling, did it not occur
Why lights are dim? Now don’t demur.
It’s time to make that two-backed beast:
Let’s give these quiet sheets a stir.”
“Oh babe, I want to make you purr,
But I can’t see it to be sure.
Turn on the closet light at least
Or else you’ll force me to infer.”
Today’s the birthday of our English bard,
The one who wrote the sonnets and the plays.
My humble gift is but this doggerel card
To one who set our rustic tongue ablaze.
But this is matching silk with doublet dull.
A better gift? Imbibe a noggin full!
I gorged on seafood feast beyond the norm,
And overstressed my buttons past the norm.
My stomach’s taken on a brand new form.
And down below? There brews a perfect storm!