Light Verse by Tim Torkildson

Wombat in the fuel supply

tim — Mon, 04 Aug 2008 15:51:16 +0000

Is there anyone unknowing
of the hot air that is blowing
from the politician’s ads upon TV?
There has never been such bombast
coming from the land of Comcast;
it is like a ball peen hammer to the knee.
All the mud that they are slinging
would make pigs break out in singing
and the fertilizer reaches to the sky.
Each opponent is a loser
or a felon and a boozer
and takes payoffs by the millions on the sly.
As the campaigns grow more strident
it’s like dogs around a hydrant,
fouling everything while howling for our vote.
When will politicians tumble
to the fact we hate their mumble,
that the only thing they’re getting is our goat?
If they want to win our favor
then they ought to sign a waiver,
vowing nevermore a broadcast spot to air.
Otherwise it would delight us
if they all got laryngitis
and stayed under a strict doctor’s loving care.

A metaphor for life

tim — Mon, 04 Aug 2008 13:48:20 +0000

The only difference ‘tween a weed
and some admired flower
is that one gets all our smiles,
the other just a glower.
The weeds get by as best they can
without a single crumb,
unlike demanding blossoms
such as proud chrysanthemum.
Every flower was a weed
at some point long ago,
and may again be cast aside –
a victim of the hoe.
So all you pampered flowers
blooming with a haughty grace,
remember you were once a weed
when dropped into a vase

Picnic Panic

tim — Mon, 04 Aug 2008 13:47:41 +0000

Picnic time is over
and the paper plates are tossed.
The lemonade is all drunk up,
the kids are barely lost.
When out of every corner
come fierce hornets on the wing,
looking for a tender spot
to place their wicked sting.
They hover over trash cans
guarding bits of jelly roll –
and woe betide the fool who
tries to pass one on his stroll.
Buzzing with a fury
that can only come from Hades
they do not care who they might prick –
children, men or ladies.
Trapping them is futile
for their numbers are gigantic.
Swatting them is useless
for they only grow more frantic.
Avoiding them is possible
if you will set a goal
of selling all your earthly goods
and moving to the Pole!

Bottle Baloney

tim — Sat, 02 Aug 2008 18:51:56 +0000

Coffee leaves you nervous.
Drinking tea will stain your teeth.
Liquor is expensive
and will make your liver seethe.
Milk is way too filling.
Soda pop will make you burp.
Lemonade is sour
and has too much of corn syrup.
Water plain and simple
that pours freely from the tap
is what we should be drinking,
if it didn’t taste like crap.
But bottle it and label it
with fancy French spelled oddly
and everybody thinks it tastes
like nectar from the godly.

Online Shopping

tim — Fri, 01 Aug 2008 20:02:25 +0000

I think it is an awful crime
that we have lost the Five and Dime.
You did not feel their stuff was cheap
when hunting through the bargain heap.
Enamelware was nested by
perfume, pomade and Ritz Dye.
In the basement were the girdles
and those little pet green turtles.
A comb made out of tortoise shell,
a silver-inlaid dinner bell,
lace and hankies, garterbelt,
fedoras made of good gray felt,
wind up toys and rubber stamps,
silken-shaded table lamps.
Have a grilled cheese with some soup;
order ice cream by the scoop.
A sense of plenty, yet of thrift,
over merchandise did drift.
But Five and Tens have gone the way
of Edsels and Columbus Day.
Now we have the dollar store –
appealing as a canker sore.
Not a place to lick ice cream.
Not a place to sit and dream.
I guess the past I should forget . . .
and shop straight from the internet.

Dirty Dad

tim — Fri, 01 Aug 2008 15:11:29 +0000

Poisoned by our pesticides,
the hallowed birds and bees
no longer stand for intercourse,
but sit around and wheeze.

3 for one!

tim — Thu, 31 Jul 2008 21:31:21 +0000

The panda got his two black eyes
by saying things that were not wise.
So it should come as no surprise
that we all tell so many lies.

*******************************

Getting cancer by cell phone
is certainly alarming.
But even worse is Rachel Ray
when she is being charming.

*********************************8

I try to remain positive
and keep an outlook sunny.
But paying for your pet’s portrait
means you have too much money.

Buckaroo!

tim — Thu, 31 Jul 2008 15:15:44 +0000

The cowboy rides a horse to work.
He punches cattle as a perk.
He twirls a looping lariat
and at saloons will tarry at.
As a youth I thought his stance
was all adventure and romance.
In my mature, considered view . . .

I wish I were a buckaroo!

Children

tim — Wed, 30 Jul 2008 15:30:15 +0000

Children who are seen, not heard,
are rarer than the dodo bird.
Shyness does not seem to be
part of their philosophy.
Louder than a tugboat horn
from the day that they are born,
volume is their one concern;
up and up the knob they turn.
Then about the age fourteen
the noise grows absolutely lean.
Now the silence is so thick
you can poke it with a stick.
Conversation might be runny
only if they want some money.
When they start to talk once more,
your hearing has grown rather poor.
So we’re back where we began –
the kids yell loudly as they can.

Public Television

tim — Tue, 29 Jul 2008 15:27:40 +0000

When I’m watching Channel Two
seems I’m always at the zoo
or it’s British comedy,
mumbling incessantly.
When the good stuff does arrive,
it is for their own fund drive,
which goes on forevermore,
causing me to sit and snore.
No hard feelings, but I want
culture not so much to flaunt.
So adieu to TPT,
hello Die Hard DVD!