Great Balls of Fur!

they gather under couches and chairs

little balls composed of cat hairs

people everywhere concur

all pet homes have balls of fur

the only way to make them go away

is to vacuum everyday

if you love animals that’s okay

and a very small price to pay

Too Soon

the stirring started when he became a teen

a young buck who fell for a beauty queen

the strange sensation in his groin a mystery

a newly found interest in the female anatomy

but when the day came

to ask the girl for a date

he just couldn’t concentrate

that fateful afternoon

because a shy voice in his head whispered… Too soon.

My Iggy

we sit side by side in a state of serenity

my Iggy and me

he, a small version of a greyhound

with brown eyes that are profound

that look into my soul

his presence does console

we spend comfortable hours silently

contemplating many a mystery

my Iggy and me.

Tammy McGee

(Editor’s note: apologies to Edgar Allen Poe for this updated adaptation of Annabel Lee)

It was many, and many a month ago

in a city called Miami

there was a woman living there who you may know

by the name of Tammy McGee

and this woman spent her time

loving and being loved by me

I was retired and so was she

living on the beaches of Miami

and we loved one another madly

I, and my Tammy McGee

with a love the world envied

her, and me

and this was the reason

she was killed by a Nazi

on the beaches of Miami

my gorgeous Tammy McGee

Her family came

and bore her away from me,

burying her in secrecy

the relatives were never happy with me

Yes! That is the reason, as all people know,

they took her away from Miami

hiding my beloved Tammy McGee

but our love continues on in eternity

and nothing can take away her love from me

she appears to me every night in my dreams

my darling Tammy McGee

and not a day goes by

when the sun raises high

when I don’t want to die

Frog Night Serenade

ribbit! ribbit!

went the big bullfrog

while sitting on a floating log

ribbit! ribbit!

in a basso tone

making the lady frogs groan

ribbit! ribbit! ribbit!

the bullfrog sang

before he suddenly sprang

ribbit! ribbit!

taking everything he had

to land smoothly on a lily pad

ribbit! ribbit! ribbit!

excited girl frogs were arrayed

waiting for the bullfrog’s serenade

ribbit! ribbit! ribbit!

sang the bullfrog under the light of the moon

while his delighted audience tried not too swoon

Dial for Love

Flash Fiction 400 -words

Deuce McCutcheon went to her funeral a year ago, but was still having trouble believing she was gone forever. Freyja was the love of his life. She was the first, and only, woman who could see behind the hideous mask of his contorted face, which was a result of a terrible childhood injury.

She never hesitated to kiss his twisted lips in public or private. They were soulmates, spending endless hours talking through sleepless nights. Sharing their dreams and inner desires until exhaustion overtook them both. Their years together flew by like days as the lovers languished in the security of one anothers embrace.

As lovers often do, they talked about life after death and what they would do when the horrible time came when one was left without the other. They weighed in on his Christian Heaven, and her Norwegian Valhalla. They explored the concept of life energy moving from one host to the next. They planned elaborate ways of communicating from one realm or dimension to the survivor’s world.

But nothing worked. Deuce grew more depressed every day. On the anniversary of her death he visited her grave. Pulling out a sprig of sage he lit it and passed the smoke back and forth over her resting place. Next, he pulled out his pipe and packed it with a strain of their favorite cannabis, and puffed on it thoughtfully as he looked at her photo which he brought with him.

A thought entered his grief. Hazy and unformed. He realized that he had saved more than just photos of her. He had saved her old cell phone number. He was fumbling for his old-fashioned flip cell phone when the sun parted the dark clouds that hung over the cemetery.

Opening it, he went straight to his address book. There it was. Freyja’s phone number. The chill seemed to go away and he took his jacket off while staring at the number. He was experiencing a strange sense of peace. He pushed her number…and waited. It rang three times. Then he heard Freyja’s high voice…”I wondered when you would call,” she teased him.

The next day a ground’s keeper discovered Deuce’s body, curled up on a grave. He was still clutching his cell phone. Later when asked about his discovery by a reporter, he said, “You should have seen the smile on that guy’s face!”

Last Words

100 words –

I’ve heard last words that sear my soul. Cries from dying comrades calling for their mother, as their lifeblood soaked a jungle floor in a meaningless war.

In the movies the hero always says something brave and fine with their last words before closing their eyes and meeting eternity and inspiring the viewer in spite of their grief, that their death wasn’t in vain.

Such noble sentiment seldom occurs in the real world where last words are more likely to be “No!” or, “Too soon!” But to be fair, there is a fair share that say, “I love you too.