Tag Archives: crumbs

Buffalo Blondie Kills a Fly and a Gnat with a Single Swat (there were no pigeons around).

lee_broom

 

On display for all to see who were able,

”It is eye”

Said the natty, gnat, gnat on the nose of the fly

Who was perched on the nose of an irritable guy; “Take that”.

And the irritable man, he swatted away

At the fly on his nose,

And the gnat (there he goes),

As his world went awry, said “goodbye”.

 

And the irritable man with the tie in his hand

Completed the Windsor knot.

And tucking at this and that around the collar until satisfied that “handsome is as handsome does”

(He loved this tie a lot),

Except for the spot

Where the fly had landed.

So happy he was that the fly was now gone. (the fly never really knew what hit him on the return approach).

The gnat by the way, was just that, In The Way.

And the hand of the man went SWAT once again

And returned to the view in the glass in the lav

And perfected the knot in his Brooks Brothers tie and said “Dang,

I’m a handsome man.”

 

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BUFFALO BLONDIE KILLS A FLY AND A GNAT WITH A SINGLE SWAT. (There were no pigeons about.)

lee_broom

 

On display for all to see who were able,

”It is eye”

Said the natty, gnat, gnat on the nose of the fly

Who was perched on the nose of an irritable guy; “Take that”.

And the irritable man, he swatted away

At the fly on his nose,

And the gnat (there he goes),

As his world went awry, said “goodbye”.

 

And the irritable man with the tie in his hand

Completed the Windsor knot.

And tucking at this and that around the collar until satisfied that “handsome is as handsome does”

(He loved this tie a lot),

Except for the spot

Where the fly had landed.

So happy he was that the fly was now gone. (the fly never really knew what hit him on the return approach).

The gnat by the way, was just that, In The Way.

And the hand of the man went SWAT once again

And returned to the view in the glass in the lav

And perfected the knot in his Brooks Brothers tie and said “Dang,

I’m a handsome man.”

 

MY SHOES DON’T MATCH

 

   Lee_Broom

MY SHOES DON’T MATCH

My shoes don’t match
I said to myself
Observing one black and one brown.
One pointy toe
The other a moc
I noticed as I sat down.

I remembered a time
In Pershing Square
An orator holding his own
The end is nigh
Beware my friends
Repent before heading Home

Is he right I wondered
My shoes don’t match
I’d found them a moment ago
I repented not
They felt warm and snug
I left them on my toes.

My shoes don’t match
I said to myself
Observing one black and one brown.
One pointed toe
The other a moc
Each slipped over
A woolen sock
The time was passing
Tickety tock
A smile replacing a frown;

I have another pair just like these
And they are my very own.

CRUMBS
CH SIX
Lee Broom.

WHY?

 Lee_Broom

We often ask “Why”
when we mean something else.
Perhaps we mean “What is the cause?”

When you ask “Why”,
Do you mean “What” or “When?”
Would “Where” or “How” then give you pause?

My first guess is,
That we all want to know
A little bit more of The Self

The Ego that drives
The more curious to drink
From the bottle up high on the shelf

Nose-ious Abner
When given a choice,
Today, will ask “How” every time.

No longer is “Why”
As important as once,
When his quest was by reason, sublime.

Today Abner chooses
To practice the “Hpw”, asking Only
“What shall I do next?”

“Pass it on brother Ab
Simply Do the next thing.
Your life is no longer a hex.”

From “Whence” came the Voice
Heard only to Ab
No longer does Abner ask “Why”

“Who may I help”
Asks the Better Man
“Is there someone near, sicker than I?”

Then suddenly opens
The door to his heart.
And he hears the Answer to “Why”

Here I am Brother Ab
I’ve been here all along
It is I, it is I, it is I,

 

WHAT RHYMES WITH BORIS?

 

Lee_Broom

I was once called Leeward.

Bill K sez “Yer Nutz.”

Kids still call me Papa.

To Leo I’m a Putz.

To grandkids I’m their Grampus.

Mother called me Spike.

Uncle Frankie loved me.

He called me Little Tyke.

To me I am a Poet

By any name at all.

Bruno, Leewi, Bobby Lee,

Life is still a ball.

 

Posted in Humor, One Act Play, Poetry|Tagged Grampus, Papa, Poet, Putz, Tyke |Leave a comment