Sunday Morning Poetry Throwdown

I love little Blackberry,
Her screen is so warm,
And if I don’t drunk-text,
She’ll do me no harm.
But I ass-dial bosses,
And drop calls like a stone.
So Blackberry and I,
Very gently will wait for my service provider contract to be up so that I can get an iPhone.

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4 thoughts on “Sunday Morning Poetry Throwdown

  1. I wrote this last year, but since it’s a throw down, go ahead and Flay me, Bobby. I’m all in for that! As for technology, I’m one step below humanity: I have a cellphone. From Straight Talk. Which means I bought it at Walrus Mart. There may or may not be photos of me in my natcherl habitat at People of Walmart. Just so you know. I’m not hip enough to get a Blackberry, and no way could I ever be seen in public with an iPhone because I lack totally cool thingies. or…whatever.

    Rime of the Middle-Aged Mariner

    My husband took the family
    To spend a day beside the sea.
    We brought umbrella, towels and spade,
    I sat with Kindle in the shade.

    The sultry air was still and dense.
    The shade offered no recompense.
    I listened to the siren’s song
    And wandered through the noisy throng.

    My charming husband took my hand,
    Together waded out from land.
    We rushed up hillocks, down in dells
    With foaming waves we rose and fell.

    We splashed and played in manner grand,
    A lovely, weightless waterland.
    While bobbing, we were sun-kissed apples,
    But I, now blind from sparkling dapples,

    Turned to go back to the shore,
    Fatigued, refreshed, I sought no more.
    My brief and buoyant levity,
    Soon rediscovered gravity.

    Sunk deep in sand, ah, but the sea,
    The sea had other plans for me.
    The sea in whose arms I was thrall
    Rolled me like a bowling ball

    Knocking down some kiddie pins,
    Up to the shore ass over chin.
    And out again and in twice more
    I nearly drowned upon the shore.

    And there I sat all inside out,
    My nether regions filled with grout.
    The slack-jawed stares on children’s faces
    Said they had seen my lady places.

    My charming husband ran to me,
    And pulled my shorts up past my knees.
    With bruised esteem high on a shelf,
    I deprecated on myself.

    One day, some enterprising rube
    Will prob’ly post it on YouTube,
    And I shall need a web redemption,
    For Daniel Tosh makes no exemptions.

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