Christmas
Roasting chestnuts in the fireplace smell nice
the children play with their toys
the uncles drink beer
the aunts squabble in the kitchen
I sip eggnog
and watch Grandma try to smoke a Hickory Farms salami.
Memories
There are some things in life that you never forget no matter what.
Like the first time we kissed,
and the night I ate that bad crab salad.
Jeff
Once there was a guy named Jeff.
He worked at a coffin factory
in charge of mentally challenged adults.
They all loved him,
he was their fwend
and mine too.
He had a big belly, long, bristly beard, and a great goony laugh
that could startle children.
Jeff was sad sometimes,
he drank too much and died young.
It sucks when people die.
Miss you, fwend!
(Poor Jeff. He really deserves a much better poem. I wish I was capable of writing him one.)
My internet paramour Mister Underhill and I have started a blog for our terrible poetry and other angsty silliness. Click here if you want to check it out. I know it really needs some color. We are dithering over the template. Any suggestions are welcome.
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13 comments:
I feel sad for Jeff and I never even met him!
That is some great powerful poetry there Ms de ville. You are the shit girl, very funny...I especially enjoyed the bit about the crab salad. HAHAHA.
Poor Jeff. It's cliche to say it but it does seem the good die young. We, on the other hand, will be carrying on well into our nineties.
I am not sure I am ready for your new blog yet . . . it sounds like you need to just hot tub and sleep late, buy some shoes, maybe a little bling . . . you know, shit chicks like to do. (Try finding you G-spot. They say it exists. I know if I had a cootchie I would invest some energy into it.)
I want to wish you a Happy Holiday, which hopefully won't piss you off. You're a very funny and insightful person, Pru!!
OMG! I don't want to gush and seem all smarmy and fake but you are such an incredibly talented poet!!!!!
Please don't forget 'I knew you when' when you get famous Pru.
Pru, every one of your poems I felt were 'real' even if they sucked (blame my trashed fingers for the insensitivity)
I love them. That's how we speak. I would rather be a Jeff with a Prue-poem than a whatever, I don't know.
My memory of roasting chestnuts (in poetry)
Chestnuts on an open fire
Yes...a long day I was tire-
D, but that shouldn't have been why
those nuts they were my
Achilles heel at that part-ay
when as the sun ended the day
my guests clamored "they taste
like chicken, I say, do you baste?"
Why no, I said, thrilled
at the thought of being billed
as having a unique and flavorful
heaping white nut bowl full
of unique American chestnut
Until the next day
When...to my dismay
I found a Folger's can teeming
with cool, smooth--not steaming
worms.
I meant Pru-poem.
I heart you.
Oh Pru - I hope the holiday season will be more than just "meh" for you! You deserve a fabulous holiday!
None of my grandmothers ever tried to smoke salami, but my one did get smashed on cold duck wine wine with a great aunt of mine one year and my sister managed to offend them (in that 5 year old way) by asking if Aunt Esther was drunk.
The woman never spoke to her again.
Merry CHristmas
and watch Grandma try to smoke a Hickory Farms salami.
Your grandma is a pistol.
i thought i was the only one that had a grandma that liked to smoke salami. wait a minute, are we talking about the same thing?
merry christmas and happy kwaanza, pru!
Betty- aw Jeff was a sweetheart and very funny. Hopefully he's cracking up all the zombies in the underworld right now.
Mister U- yay, we are so rotten we get to experience the golden years. We will be pooping in our pants and toasting each other with prune juice. Can't wait. Cheers you old bitch!
GF- I think I may have found it, butI wish someone else would. Thanks GF. Merry xmas to you.
Ubermouth- ah thanks Uber, that's awfully nice of you to say. If I ever get famous and go on Oprah I will jump on her couch and blow kisses to all my blogging buddies.
Helen- lol at that poem! Wormy nuts is such a great visual. Yum yum, just throw them in the deep fryer next time. Most people would eat cat shit if you deep fried it. At least my family would.
Brenda- I hope you and your family have a great holiday. Hopefully the neighbors won't go crazy with their partying.
Adam- gee I don't think that was me, dude. I keep my girlish figure by spamming. Maybe you should try it sometime.
Bumble- back at you. Enjoy the barley mead!
BB- happy holidays, BB. I hope Santa brings you a nice big sausage.
PK- I tip my kufi to you, PK. Have a good one.
Sometimes all you can do is sit back and sip eggnog…try adding some flavor, like some rum or whiskey…or fck the nog and have a shot of vodka…
I can't really write poetry myself--I'm so incredibly masculine anything I write as an attempt at poetry comes out more like a sexist limerick (example: There once was a man named Tim, who hated women because they are weak, stupid, and inferior at everything except having babies). I do like to write with a quill pen, though.
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