Dumb Poem Collection - # 187 through # 197

Eleven more little poem things for the pot. Makes me wonder how the big stew of them may taste once the tally reaches the "magic number" as it comes up with the second group of 101 to play sequel to the first 101 in that first eBook.

Without following down that conjectural pathway any farther, here is today’s complement. With my sore fingers from rooting around in the garden, and with my aching head from considering fresh poems, these are all going to be "shorties" – each to be of the limerick sort of persuasion.

# 187 – The Landlord

It crunched and munched.
On our food it lunched –
the little mouse
that owned our house –
or so it hunched.

# 188 – Obstinacy

There’s a road going straight up the hill.
For miles it runs true. Curves are nil.
Upon reaching the brim,
it’s still straight and quite trim.
Years from now it will be that way still.

# 189 - Enough to flip your mind

Our television flips a bunch.
We turn it on, then go to lunch.
When we get back
it’s still off track.
Did its chips all lose their punch?

# 190 – Social pressure

In the Houston Museum of Fine Art
it’s so quiet you wouldn’t dare fart.
You run down the stair
out into fresh air
and relieve both your belly and heart.

# 191 – Just a flash in the pan

A photographer with a stricture
could not take a picture.
He just got madder,
with fuller bladder,
his thoughts only on a fixture.

# 192 – Sweating debt

My creditors sure hound me,
but none have yet quite found me.
My phone stays hot.
I owe a lot.
Should I not pay soon, they’ll pound me.

# 193 – Dentistry

Dentistry
is not for free.
Your wealth is compacted
as teeth are extracted.
It’s a strain of a pain, don’t you see?

# 194 – Pentagons have five sides

Never before
in the histories of wars
had there been so much fighting
or such fierce back-biting
as went on behind those closed doors.

# 195 – Sir Prize

You’d never believe what I saw at the store–
a person so funny, I’ll laugh ‘til I’m sore–
dressed in green on the left and red on the right,
one glove with no fingers, a hat with a light.
Now I’ll hurt all the time. He just moved in next door.

# 196 - Trade show duty

My feet are sore, my voice is raw.
The competition caused a draw.
There’s no need to mention
how bad this convention.
They’re the rule – rather yet – they're the law.

# 197 – The drifter

My friend lived right there on the beach
with a gal who was really a peach.
A huge wave washed in once,
and watered the dunce,
floating him way out of reach.