Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Just an old Poem Today

With Bagman and Butler both brooding in the dark, I seem to be museless. But I’ve become infected with Blogger’s Compulsion which forces me to post something…anything…so here is a poem from the vault.

Door Poem #2

You can see this one coming

unless you’ve never watched

The Three Stooges

but if I don’t take your door

too seriously, I might just play

anyway, stepping back ten paces

and running at full speed

like some gung-ho cop even if

wood is harder than collarbone

but you and I both know

at the last minute

you’ll jerk open the door

and I’ll go flying through

with a loud “Yahoo!” and crash.

So instead I’ll stop – surprise –

at the last second grinning.

And of course you won’t open the door.

In fact, you might not even be home

leaving me standing

with that look you know so well.


  1. Oh old poems are so much better than young poems are they not? Too funny and clever. Yep its addictive, a right illness, lol

  2. A classic, classic. Oh! Once again, the visuals he,he.

  3. B&B......are you trying to turn me into a big ole softie???
    Love the poem :)

    Steady On
    Reggie Girl

  4. Not just an old poem - a rather splendid, delightfully humerous. one!

  5. Thanks to all...Sorry if I confuse folks but just changed my picture as well. The mantis was tiring and this was a candid I got of both Bagman and Butler together.

  6. I know ALL about Blogger's Compulsion! Here I've been up for, oh say, 20 minutes and just after I get my first cup of coffee I'm checking my Blog to see who visited... even before checking email. Guess I like all you guys out there!

  7. As a blogger of all of 2-weeks, I've already discovered the compulsion that draws you to the computer every...oh, 20 minutes! Loved the poem--effective blend of humor and melancholy.

  8. Wood is harder than headbone, too. Been there, done that.

    Wish I could do the poetry thingy. Good one.

  9. This was cute! Funny, we were just talking about a Three Stooges espisode last night. We soitenly were.

  10. I think, somewhere in there, I caught a glimpse of the meaning of life.

    Or was that just the shine on Curly's head?