Showing posts with label values. Show all posts
Showing posts with label values. Show all posts

Tuesday

Clothes Hoarse – When focus fogs with talk of togs



She cuts a figure fine. It’s true.
No hand-me-downs askance to view,
Nor dirty laundry out to air.
She simply speaks of things to wear.

Now, fashion’s fun. And fashion’s fine.
She talks about it all the time.
We’d almost say we can’t believe
She wears her heart upon her sleeve.

A clearance sale sets her a-pant.
She’ll hem and haw and rave and rant.
To strike a pose gives her no thought,
In latest trends of style store-bought.

Before you tag me as a snitch,
I’ll mention that she is a stitch.
No kid gloves needed with this one.
She’s generally a load of fun.

Her company is pleasant, sure,
If clothing talk one can endure.
And though she dresses to the nines,
I’d bet my boots she never whines.

Well-heeled, she’d do an emperor proud,
Stand head and shoulders ‘bove the crowd.
Her sentiments are sure, heartfelt.
She’d never hit below the belt.

But influence to spend she’ll hold,
As she displays her card of gold.
When friends step out with her to shop,
Their pockets lighten ‘fore they stop.

To cap things off, I have to say,
I’m having lunch with her today.
And if to browse we skip dessert,
I’ll try hard not to lose my shirt.
c2018 by Linda Ann Nickerson
Clothes Hoarse - adapted from public domain image

 
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Monday

Zealotic or Zesty?



 Zealotic as I used to live,
Though given often to misgive –
I’d hang with those
Who’d turn the nose,
But long would dawdle to forgive.



Bare truth can be a hazard deep,
As from compassion it can keep.
We may be right,
But wrongly bite,
If facts unchecked are all we heap.

I hope at last to hold my zeal,
And yet to sail more even keel.
A balance shift
Could be a gift,
If to the heart it does appeal.
c2018 by Linda Ann Nickerson


Image:
Theme art – adapted from public domain image
Still from The Dark Past, 1948

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Saturday

Yesterday’s Yummies



When lured into lunch in a crunch,
It’s better to follow your hunch.
Don’t give in and toss out a punch,
Or one might get her shorts in a bunch.

I met a friend, long overdue,
To share a bite or three or two.
The conversation took a turn.
(You’d be surprised what one can learn.)



The fishing started with hors d'oeuvres
And quickly grated on my nerves.
She trawled, but I refused the bait.
I pushed the food ‘round on my plate.

Undaunted and without regret,
Back trolling, she did dump her net.
She popped and bobbed, as if for sport.
This chum of old, I failed to thwart.

The waitress brought the check at last.
I lured my angling friend out fast.
The lunch was tasty. We went Dutch.
The conversation? Not so much.
c2018 by Linda Ann Nickerson


Image:
Theme art – adapted from public domain image
Still from The Women, 1939

Feel free to follow on Google Plus and Twitter. Please visit my Amazon author page as well.