The writer strikes out

There was a writer in Rome
Who wrote a large book,a tome
He wanted it a best seller
But alas it was a smeller
About an Eskimo in Nome

War clouds on the horizon

When the shit hits fan
There's no time to plan
So let's get away
And plan to stay
Far far away from Iran

She was off her meds

She was off her meds

A gal who was very uptight
Was often ready to fight
At a drop of a pin
Now that's a big sin
But with antidepressants she's alright

Rain, rain, go away!

I wish there was an end to this rain
It's sheer volume is driving me insane
My roof has a hole
So it is my goal
To fix it before I'm broke again

The Worry Wort

The Worry Wort

A woman who tended to brood..
Never was quite in the mood
For lively sexual play
All thoughts she'd allay
Except for such times she was stewed

Oh for a good poem!

Oh for a good poem!
I have gone a bit berserk
To get these d**n poems to work
Explaining the joy
Of being your boy
Without causing a facial smirk

A ditty from a colorblind poet

A ditty from a colorblind poet

Roses aren't red
Violets aren't blue
It might not be nice
to be so precise
To you I'll always talk true

My allegiance

My allegiance

Roses aren't red
Violets aren't blue
It might not be nice
to be so precise
To you I'll always talk true

Ode to my gal

Ode to my gal

I love spending time with you
Our love is cemented with glue
You are a number 10
Which excites all men
And I certainly enjoy the view

It pays to advertise

It pays to advertise

A gal who was terribly shrill...
One cold eve could not get up a hill
So she began to loudly shout
Which brought the neighbors out
Then they helped her get out of the chill

He hated being awake

A man who was partial to gin.
Hated to see any day begin
He was very chronic
To order gin and tonic
Followed by a Mickey Finn