All the world’s people
Have been swallowed by covid19
And I, still in self-quarantine, tend
My victory garden tonight. Alone.
Share your own flash:
Flash verse
Published January 10, 2021 by Nan Mykelverse
All posts tagged verse
PANDEMIC PUTTERINGS
Published January 1, 2021 by Nan Mykel
If still alive when the pandemic passes
Will anyone be willing to get off their…chairs?
The cloistered world of expanded mind
Fits, as time goes by.
Patches from old songs flitter
Among recycling litter “As Time Goes By.”
Jumping spider in the tub
Takes on significance, that’s the rub.
The phone sings its cradled song
As mail from good causes go unopened.
Poets need not rhyme; or not;
Nor dress. Time o’erflows with polka-dotted
nights, several times a day.
Outside, a passing motorcycle farts
and while I ply my art alone I find
that self-quarantine works for me
just fine.
Struggling to Keep…
Published November 18, 2020 by Nan Mykel
…MY ENTRIES as noble as possible, without following our president’s example. Therefore, Perhaps for awhile I’ll be downright silly. So you can ignore me, that’s okay. My political focus has already cost me readers in search of escape let’s pretend. (Alas, I ought not bad mouth any straggling readers! I continue self-quarantined.)
WRITE YOU a poem every day?
After the fat lady sings, I say,
And after the ice man cometh
Maybe that path I will runneth.
___
I’d sing to my plants if I could,
But vocal chords no longer sound good.
On the other hand when I burp
The birds tend to answer my chirp.
___
Perhaps my boundaries are loose–
I’m all over the place, forsooth
And Bob’s been reincarnated,
Already inebriated.
___
FROM MY SNAIL MAIL:
Some states having lockdowns and not others is like selecting a spot for pissing in a swimming pool.
Three Piffles
Published February 19, 2018 by Nan Mykel
IN MEMORIUM
Alas, poor car, you did me no wrong.
If we forged a spiritual bond,
I broke it that February day.
Was I wool gathering or were his lights
out? No mind. Spilt milk. Misdeed done.
I never knew the freedom you brought
me until the day we parted on
Route 7. Oh my Toyota Matrix
2003, how I miss you! I’m sorry.
SILENCE
Out of juice, I have to say
this thirsty page before me lay.
The manhole cover is doing its job;
life underground remains in a fog.
SCRIBBLINGS
I’ve got an itty bitty
Witty ditty
Just under my arm—
No harm,
but it’s pritty gritty!
A Post to Entertain You
Published July 6, 2016 by Nan MykelI’ve noticed that I’m stuck in the good company of poets who only visit me when I have a poem up my sleeve or somewhere, preferably on Dverse. How did this happen? What happened to the great population of octogenarians who have nothing better to do than fiddle with computer keys. Maybe they’re playing piano keys instead? Sorry, count me out. Musician I’m not, just as I’m not lot of things….Republican, Spanish-speaking, extrovert, yankee….I could go on and on, literally. But you knew that, didn’t you! So, does that mean you’re a bored curious poet just dropping by to see what I’m up to? If so, welcome. If not, double welcome!
Edith Smith http://www.Butterfly-Fun-Fact.com
THE YELLOW AND PURPLE CATERPILLAR
(I’ve already gotten myself in trouble–killer?)…
Reminds me of Phyllis Diller
(especially due to her last name)
…this killer caterpillar–not caterpillar killer (you note the difference?)
was devouring an innocent leaf one night
when he saw an owl
also on the prowl.
Our killer said nnnnnnnnnnnnf
and the owl replied WHO?
Impatient, our killer yelled nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnf!!!
The owl on the prowl, you see,
not unlike you and me,
didn’t like sass so
bit him in the ass, leaving
only a purple caterpillar.
NANMYKEL.COM 