Watered-Down War: A Rhyming Squirt to Anger Avert

 

Zipping down the interstate,

Running late at half-past eight,

Children bickering in back –

Mother driver plans attack.

“Work it out,” she says, irate.

 

Miles pass, as on they clash.

Backseat bounces, while they thrash.

She, white-knuckled, grabs a drink

Of her water, thus to think.

Then it hits her like a flash:

Ceasefire comes with one backsplash.

 

Don’t look back to view the fray.

Creatively she’ll yet convey –

Their signal swap,

Their faces sop,

Communicating with a spray.

 

Across one shoulder with one squeeze,

A full surprise from them she’ll tease.

Thus startled, shocked,

Their battle blocked,

They’ll settle in for moment’s peace.

 

Ah, dear détente, they won’t forget

The day their clothes were soaking wet.

How tiny tempers may improve,

If hydrated while on the move.

Teach lessons on the fly? You bet!

 

This mama, she won’t text and steer,

But she can signal in high gear.

When kids may strive,

Still on she’ll drive

But telegraph a message clear.

c2025 by Linda Ann Nickerson

 

Image: Public domain image

 

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A wonder in the waiting

 

A marvel awaits, as we cease to attempt,

To right every wrong and the Victor preempt.

We race far afield,

Forgetting to yield,

And cultivate strife. Thus, we harvest contempt.

 

We pique in a pickle and wrinkle fair brow.

We pause not for progress; our tempers endow.

And so in our prime,

We lose the sublime,

To sacrifice joy on the altar of now.

 

The sudden has surely been much oversold.

Our striving earns nothing but shiny fool’s gold.

Beginning again,

In each now and then:

We might wonder what may our waiting behold.

c2023 by Linda Ann Nickerson

 This poem was posted in response to these prompts:

• Five-Minute Friday: “attempt”
• Meme Express: “in a pickle”
• Simply Snickers: “field,” “fair”/”fare,” and “far”
• Stream of Consciousness Saturday: “prime”
• Writer’s Workshop: “beginning again”

 Image: Victorian Portrait of Unknown Woman – vintage/public domain, finder’s credit to Sepia Saturday

 

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Rot off the press – Limericked views on breaking news

 

The news is extra, you can bet.

Its fiction casts a wider net.

Of facts, off-base,

No track or trace –

Let’s give those folks a statuette.

 

Behind the scenes, they access gain.

They pick and peck past their domain.

Don’t blink. Press print.

Oh, no. You didn’t.

Our hearts are torn; they pour champagne.

 

As readers, viewers, they hoodwink.

They tap their keys; they nod and wink

To grab the scoop

And loop-de-loop.

The story’s never what we think.

c2023 by Linda Ann Nickerson

 

This poem was posted in response to these prompts:

• Five-Minute Friday: “access”
• Mad Kane’s Limerick-Off Monday: “net”
• Meme Express: “off-base”
• Simply Snickers: “pick,” “press,” and “print”
• Stream of Consciousness Saturday: “heart”

 

Image: “Extra! Extra!” from The Graphics Fairy / vintage / public domain

 

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Steamed or Redeemed – A Boiling Roil on Daily Toil

 

Steamed or Redeemed – 

A Boiling Roil on Daily Toil

 

I’m thankful for at least ten things.

Remind me when my mis’ry stings.

My coffee pot

Can fix a lot,

As “Easy does it,” so it sings.

 

My nose tips slightly out of joint,

As winged worries angst anoint,

Till wonders weird

My sights have cleared.

To draw me back from boiling point.

 

Another Monday might be mild,

To cheer and calm this child riled.

In this, I thank

And bow to rank

Far ‘neath the One who on me smiled.

 

‘Tis far past time; I must look up.

Perhaps I need another cup.

c2022 by Linda Ann Nickerson

 

 

This poem was posted in response to these prompts:

• Five-Minute Friday: “coffee”
• Limerick-Off Monday (Mad Kane): “nose” or “knows” or “noes”
• Meme Express: “easy does it”
• Simply Snickers: “weird,” “wild,” and “winged”
• Stream of Consciousness Saturday: “tip”
• Ten Things of Thankful: gratitude-generators

 

Image: Pixabay - public domain photo

Feel free to follow on Twitter, and follow Nickers and Ink Creative Communications on Facebook. Please visit my Amazon author page as well. And I am happy to share my RUNDERDOG ambassador code for 10% off on Bondi Band Athletic Headbands, Accessories, and Fashions. (Simply enter the code at online checkout.).

Path of Beast Resistance

 

Path of Beast Resistance --A Limericked Shun on Taking a Run

 

My friend and I, we log our miles,

Treading trails with smirks or smiles.

We run or walk

And often talk,

But sometimes we face terror trials.

 

The kinder people lend us space;

They grin and move along apace.

Yes, some will nod,

As on they plod,

But others echo dark disgrace.

 

For this, we seldom run alone.

Although our fears be overblown.

It just takes one

To come undone,

When faced with fiendish goon or crone.

 

Who knows what lurks within the wood,

For evil or perhaps for good.

Each step we take,

For Heaven’s sake,

We might be safer in the ‘hood.

c2021 by Linda Ann Nickerson

Image: Still from Sealskins, 1932

You Schmooze, You Lose - Pandemic Blues

 

The world’s gone bonkers; there’s no doubt.

We’re closeted by those with clout.

We simply can’t come out to play.

The virus has to go away

Because we cannot schmooze.

 

My muscles sag. My nerves, they knot.

My language, it has gone to pot.

I don’t hold back a darn or heck.

The house is clean, but I’m a wreck

Because we cannot schmooze.

 

It’s growing harder to assess

My errant need to underdress.

In leggings, PJs, sneaks and sweats,

I cruise the town with no regrets

Because we cannot schmooze.

 

We stare at screens to catch a glance

Of folks who can’t see we’ve no pants.

We splurge on foods to snack in beds.

We’re bleary eyed with pounding heads.

Because we cannot schmooze.

 

We want to wear our fancy clothes

And breathe fresh air with unmasked nose.

We want to push and shove and hug,

And yet we can’t without a drug.

Because we cannot schmooze.

 

Get lost, Corona. Hit the bricks.

We’re sick of science, politics.

We’ve had enough, and we don’t care

Just get out of our uncut hair.

Because we cannot schmooze.

 

Pandemic life has no panache.

But will it come out in the wash?

c2021 by Linda Ann Nickerson

 

This poem incorporates a variety of prompts:

• Meme Express (“gut feeling”)
• Simply Snickers  (“snooze” and “lose”)

Image: Adapted from illustration by Louis Le Breton, 1863, public domain

Feel free to follow on Twitter, and follow Nickers and Ink Creative Communications on Facebook. Please visit my Amazon author page as well. And I am happy to share my RUNDERDOG ambassador code for 10% off on Bondi Band Athletic Headbands, Accessories, and Fashions. (Simply enter the code at online checkout.).