Is age just a number? Who knows?
Some say “yes.” Others suff’ring the woes
Of senescence will wage
A war against age,
To disguise the “gifts” aging bestows.
Happy Age Is Just A Number Day! (March 22)
Is age just a number? Who knows?
Some say “yes.” Others suff’ring the woes
Of senescence will wage
A war against age,
To disguise the “gifts” aging bestows.
Happy Age Is Just A Number Day! (March 22)
Halloween week I sampled some candy,
But stuff that I used to find dandy
Made me cringe with distaste.
Has aging laid waste
To my taste buds? I’d rather drink brandy.
Have the folks who make chocolate treats
Altered recipes, cheapened these sweets
Till they taste like debris?
Is it them? Is it me?
Either way, here come healthier eats.
It’s National Dictionary Day, created in honor of Noah Webster’s birthday.
I attempt to learn new words each day–
At least one, sometimes two, but they stray;
Seems as new words are learned,
The old ones are spurned:
“You’re evicted!” those brain-hoggers bray.
An Old Story (Limerick)
By Madeleine Begun Kane
If you’d like to feel old, here’s a way–
Besides all those aches and that gray–
Arrive home, and then hear
From your husband, “My dear,
Your Medicare card came today.”
Dverse Poets asks us to write a poem about the passage of time. Here’s mine.
Time Flies (Limerick)
By Madeleine Begun Kane
“Time flies” is a popular phrase.
So it does, and in frightening ways.
Where’s it go? I don’t know.
And there’s no way to slow
It all down. Simply relish the days.
It’s Limerick-Off time, once again. And that means I write a limerick, and you write your own, using the same first line. Then you post your limerick here and, if you’re a Facebook user, on Facebook too.
The best submission will be crowned Limerick Of The Week. (Here’s last week’s Limerick Of The Week Winner.)
How will your poems be judged? By meter, rhyme, cleverness, and humor. (If you’re feeling a bit fuzzy about limerick writing rules, here’s my How To Write A Limerick article.)
I’ll announce the Limerick of the Week Winner right before I post next week’s Limerick-Off. So that gives you a full week to submit your clever, polished verse.
I hope you’ll join me in writing a limerick with this first line:
A gal with a very deep tan…*
or
A guy with a very deep tan…*
*(Minor variations to my first lines are acceptable, but rhyme words may not be altered.)
Here’s my limerick:
Sun-Tanned Limerick
By Madeleine Begun Kane
A gal with a very deep tan
Was hoping to pick up a man.
But the guys got one look,
And that’s all that it took:
Wrinkled skin made her look like their gran.
Please feel free to write your own limerick using the same first line and post it in my comments. And if you’re on Facebook, I hope you’ll join my friends in that same activity on my Facebook Limerick-Off post.
To receive an email alert whenever I post a new Limerick-Off, please email Madkane@MadKane.com Subject: MadKane’s Newsletter. Thanks!
UPDATE: July 3rd is Stay Out Of The Sun Day.
Flutist misses cue.
Conductor settles the score.
Time to face music.
*****
Botoxified face,
once intelligent with age,
now frozen wasteland.
*****
(Face prompt from Theme Thursday)
Limerick Ode To A Vigorous Old Lady
By Madeleine Begun Kane
An old grandma with spring in her walk
Moved so quickly that people would gawk.
When asked if a gym
Was the source of her vim
She said, “No — Jim, Kim, Henry and Hawk.”
(Posted at this spring prompt and at Poetic Asides’ spring prompt.)
UPDATE: July 23 is Gorgeous Grandma Day.
Nursing nostalgia,
the tribute bands play covers —
relive what wasn’t.
*****
The injured cellist,
forced to bow out of concerts,
retires her bow.
*****
The big bands play swing —
old couples dance joyously,
then reclaim their canes.
*****
Three childhood friendships —
treasured, instrumental —
piano, oboe, flute.
*****
(The first haiku was inspired by Writer’s Island’s tribute theme. The fourth haiku was inspired by Monday Memories’ friendship theme.)
Secret Cache
By Madeleine Begun Kane
A fellow had a secret cache
of coins and stamps and gold.
He planned to sell it off one day
when he became quite old.
That time did come for him at last—
age ninety-three or more.
Alas, he’d thrown his cache box out—
forgot what it was for.
(You can find more of my bad memory humor here. And check out the secret prompt over at Writer’s Island)