Loaded for Beware

This pistol of a friend I’ve found

Will step out with the gun’s resound.

The pack behind, off like a shot,

She pulls the trigger, all she’s got.

She makes her peace, out from the gate,

To run near four in thirty-eight.

And with both barrels firing fine,

She zips right past the finish line.

Though she’s not packing on the street,

You still might say she brings the heat.

c2018 by Linda Ann Nickerson

 

Image:

Theme art – adapted from public domain image

Still from Marnie, 1964

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Klutz and Killjoy

A klutz I am to beat the bill,

A fall-down drunk, no sip or swill.

My frame betrays me without sign,

I cannot walk a fine straight line.

Before you measure out my mote,

Please know I have a doctor’s note.

Alas, judge not by hook or crook.

Things are not always as they look.

 

Reserve your ratings, formed in vain.

From diagnosis, do abstain.

You cannot grasp the way I walk,

Thus, I won’t bear your idle talk.

c2018 by Linda Ann Nickerson

Image:

Theme art – adapted from public domain image

Still from Child of Manhattan, 1933

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Stopping Shoe Shopping

I’d rather chuckle than simply buckle.

My shoe collection needs a buff.

Girls never seem to have enough.

I’d love to go the extra mile,

Kick off the season, step in style.

The choice today is mighty fine.

It’s hard sometimes to toe the line.

Behold the sandals, clogs, and flats –

I’ll skip the matching handbags, hats.

Those pretty slippers, mocs, and mules,

Oh, how to stay within the rules!

Alas, I know that I must stop,

The other shoe is sure to drop.

My footwear flies me far and wide,

Attending meetings multiplied.

They race through corridor and street,

Or anywhere I must beat feet.

No loafer, I have miles to stroll.

Would be a shame to scuff my sole.

My sneakers have put up a fight,

But shoestring budget ties us tight.

Still, shopping’s not yet stopped, kaput –

The shoe is on the other foot.

His brand-new boxes still arrive,

Bright pairs that seldom see test drive.

I hope they charge not by the inch,

Although I aim not to be Grinch.

And I don’t mean to drive a wedge,

So pass the polish on the ledge.

I’ll brush and scrub and smooth and shine

To make old favorites mighty fine.

My Yankee hands can pinch a buck.

Just keep me from the shop. Good luck.

c2017 by Linda Ann Nickerson

Image:

Adapted by this user from vintage artwork.

This poem was posted in response to these prompts:

April A to Z Blog Challenge

National Poetry Writing Month / NaPoWriMo

Meme Express: “kick off”

Six-Word Saturday: See subtitle.

#atozchallenge

#napowrimo

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