Posts Tagged ‘Husbands & Wives’

Dancing With A Wild Man (Limerick)

Wednesday, May 22nd, 2013

Mark and I take weekly group ballroom dancing classes. However, due to sundry symptoms, we’ve missed a bunch of them. But we finally made to a class Tuesday night, which reminded me of this:

Dancing with A Wild Man (Limerick)
By Madeleine Begun Kane

My husband has very wild moves.
So when dancing, it surely behooves
Me to exercise care
And really beware,
As I try not to fall, while he grooves.

Yet Another Limerick Ode To My Husband Mark Kane

Tuesday, May 8th, 2012

Yet Another Limerick Ode To My Husband Mark Kane
By Madeleine Begun Kane

Oh, what have I done to my Mark:
Taught him limerick writing, and hark!
Now he’ll draft something new,
Then lug laptop to loo —
I can’t hide from his poetry arc.

(Note from Mad Kane: I’m really not making this up. On Sunday, Mark followed me into the bathroom, carrying his laptop. That’s how eager he was to show me his latest limerick.)

A Limerick Ode To My Husband Mark Kane

Thursday, July 14th, 2011

A Limerick Ode To My Husband Mark Kane
By Madeleine Begun Kane

You’re in Facebook at last — Hip Hooray!
Till this morning, you kept saying “Nay!”
The reason is clear
Why you’re finally here:
I’ve joined Google-Plus as of today!

Romancing The Stoic (Humor Column)

Sunday, February 14th, 2010

Last night hubby Mark reminded me about a humor column I wrote about a romance-impaired woman (me) marrying a romantic man like Mark. He thinks it’s the perfect column to post on Valentines Day, so here’s how Romancing The Stoic begins:

Romancing The Stoic
By Madeleine Begun Kane

“We’ve lost power!” I shrieked, as the lights went out and a Brahms concerto stopped mid-cadenza. “It’s okay,” my husband Mark said, in a futile attempt to calm me down. For already I was ransacking the house in search of flashlights, candles, matches and batteries. And as usual, I’d hidden them away in a safe and elusive spot.

“Don’t worry,” Mark said, when he finally had my attention. “We’ll bundle up in front of the fireplace. We’ll eat by candlelight, sip wine, and talk. It’ll be nice. You won’t even miss the light.”

That episode, which climaxed in a delightful, albeit light-impaired evening, illustrates our differences in the romance department. A quick bit of history: More than thirty years ago Mark proposed on his knees in the middle of the street, while I rushed to brush off his pants. His encore the next night was to supplement his weekly floral offering with a pair of crystal candlesticks. I, of course, fretted about their price.

Mark went through with the wedding, despite my apparent lack of the romance gene. Perhaps he felt he had sentiment enough for two. Or maybe he thought I’d come around some day — that my romantic spirit was merely submerged, just waiting to be tapped. … (Romancing The Stoic continues here.)