Life Potpourri

There ain’t no Book of Life
at the Pearly Gates.
Instead, God sniffs your life potpourri
and (Bam!) He knows your fate.

You see, all your thoughts and actions
from the kind to oh-so-evil
dry into life potpourri
ready for Divine retrieval.

Angels flank him at His sides
(with espresso beans in hand),
cleansing his nasal palate
prevents a misreading of “bland!”

If God wrinkles his nose at your bowl
(or worse!) recoils in disgust:
your plans for everlasting bliss
perchance are a bit robust.

And if God should have a cold that day
and his olfactory sense is missing.
You’ll join the queue in Purgatory
till His nose has had some fixing.

His Saints potpourri is in His sock drawer.
His Angels in sachets.
His do-gooders are on His mantel.
His devotees by His ashtray.

Your go-go-ness

If you wanna-wanna be it
take-a take-a look inside.
The courage and go-go-ness
already in you reside.

Instead of: “I can’t-ta, can’t-ta.”
Try: “I can-a, I will try!”
The pruning shears are in your hands,
life is your very own bonsai.

Late Bloomer

 
If they call you a late bloomer
just say “hip hip hooray.”
One day you’ll start-a-bloomin’
while they’ll be darning their crochet.

Broccoli covered Vermin

When your plug is pulled
and your life whirlpool starts a twirling,
just remember things can get much worse:
think of broccoli covered vermin!

To-done list

My “to-do” list is overflowing

(some over-clocking is my hunch).

My but “to-done” list is empty as can be

so I’m off for lunch.

Skinny Santa

Mrs. Clause put Santa on a diet

but now he’s sitting in a cell.

His christmas eve mission this year…well,

did not really go so well.

Section 2 (breaking & entering)

was his Christmas morning crime.

 With no rosey cheeks or stomach round

he wasn’t recognized!

Thud! Santa flew down the chimney

(his belly used to provide some friction)

This year presents weren’t on his mind

… cupboard raiding was his mission!

Spotting the milk and cookies

he raced to them in a flash.

 Soon only crumbs and drops were left

 ……but Santa wanted the stash!

He would have gotten away with it

 if after the cookies he did scury.

It was the sound of pots and pans that night

that awoke the Jones in a fury.

“At 3am he stood in my kitchen,

 a skinny Santa eatting my squid!

He even brought his own apron that said:

“Being naughty saves me a trip!””

So Santa has a mugshot now

But his regrets are zero, null!

His grin has a message clear

“at least my tummy’s nice and full.”

Things that go well together

Empty pocket, reimbursement

(to ex flame:) “this is flame current.”

Chocolate stash, on a diet

future ambitions answered with “pirate.”

Empty drawer, pile of bills

sunny day, “boss: it’s the chills.”

Ice cream machine on, uh oh lever’s jammed!

incoming wave, messy sand.

Accusing parent, sibling scapegoat

low attention span, anecdote.

Opera singer, no glass in sight

human wonder, satellite.

Virus Cure

Oh the virus has infected you!

It’s rampant and you’re teeming!

To cure yourself? Only one way!

Look at life as though your dreaming

The voice of an unpublished writer

I think I’ll write poetry for life

without care of what minds think.

Afterall should you not like it now

…. perhaps you will after a drink.

Refuse to be a side dish in life

Be not the green beans, mash or niblet corn

grab the wheel of life and honk that horn!