Tag Archives: David E. Booker

Monday morning writing joke: “Barking vowels”

There once was a writer doggerel

Whose writing sounded as if you should gargle.

Rhymes and diphthongs

The words never got along

Sounding like the speech of a mongrel.

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Monday morning writing joke: “Chef from Kent”

There once was a chef from Kent

who knew not how her evening was spent.

With her panties aside

had she hitched up for a ride?

Or was that dampness some other condiment?

Story of a two ladies out late.

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Photo finish Friday (and haiku): “Feeding”

Grackle and woodpecker at a suet feeder.
Grackle and woodpecker vie for suet.

Grackle challenges /

The world in a winged moment. /

Woodpecker defends.

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Monday morning writing joke: “The Cow Story”

The fox said, pointing to the open field, “Maybe that’s where the cow jumped over the moon. Which brings up the philosophical question: Why did the cow jump over the moon?”

“Because it was trying to avoid the cattle drive.”

“But cows can’t drive,” the fox said.

“Cows can’t fly, either,” said the chicken hurriedly crossing the road.

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Haiku to you Thursday: “Reigns in Tears”

The sky reigns in tears /

A billion trillion stars /

Beacons for the past.

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Monday morning writing joke: “Couplet”

There once was a writer of poems

Who had a side job fixing homes.

While making a repair

He tore pants and underwear

And displayed a couplet best left alone.

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Monday morning writing joke: “Absurdity”

There one day was a poet of the absurd

Who one day gave her word.

She’d tell it straight one day

Come what May

Or the one day she became a bird.

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