Ode to the Nose that Flows

Our day quickly becomes distracting

when we have a nose that flows.

For we cannot help reacting

when our smeller becomes our foe.

There is nothing so subtracting

as when its color turns red as a rose.

And red noses are certainly detracting–

for in the toilet our looks go.


Whether an from allergy or cold

our sniffling, snorting woes

make us push up tissues to hold

the mucosal waterfall hose.

Most people take whiny issue

when sneezes shake their toes.

When people throw their tissues

selfishly here, there and down below,

sides are drawn and  friends become foes.


But ahh, a benefit to a snotty nose;

some days are meant for these mean lows.

For now and then we are meant to rest

and a flowing nose is an obvious show

and an excuse that is just the best!

My tongue-in-cheek homage to winter colds……

Ode to Saggy Baggy Pants


Who could think that fashion  would sink

to wearing pants under your bum.

This drives most  rational dressers to drink;

while this is quite “swag “ to some.

Teens these days with butt showing ways

are immune to eye rolling stares.

Don’t they know that the low pant craze

is not something people want them to share?

As usual they think that their “shit don’t stink”

otherwise they simply don’t care.

I cant imagine why holding up  their pants

does not drive them insane!

If they knew how silly the wiggle dance

looked, Im sure they would refrain.

And who wants to see their underwear

that often is nothing to brag about?

I certainly have no desire to “see down there”;

some bums are simply not meant to hang out.

I have threatened to lower my own pants in protest

(although the poor souls in my rear view

would not appreciate my mid-life jest)

just to offend this generation’s teenage crew.

But as my butt is saggy, dimpled and fat,

I shall refrain from  embarrassing you.

Some day their child’s teenage craze

will make teens today scream and shout.

Until then, we smarter persons must bend

to suffering this embarrassing craze out.


I love this poem!  While I am a passionate poet, and often have my best stuff when I am in gripped in an emotional upheaval, my favorite poems by far are my silly “ODES”!

I am DEVOUTLY hopeful that the decrease in “bum-swag” is suggesting that this awful phase is on the outs.  I wrote this earlier at a time when all I saw was the penguin walk from young men with an aversion to belts or decency.  But fashion never stays around for very long.  I hope that I will never have to see another pair of peek-a-boo underwear again.  But as this is pretty humorous, I hope you can grin and maybe show it to someone still clinging to this silliness.

Ode to the Gas We Pass

Ahh gas, a product of digestion:

a measurement of GI health.

Often related to food ingestion’

these bursts of air from our sphincters

are blind to socioeconomic wealth.

Throughout the day, this airy spray

is passed proudly or in stealth.


 Individual feelings about gas

sometimes result in ass retention.

Unfortunately, suppressing the pass

has not yet resulted in patent invention.

For the bowel that is suppressed,

more uncomfortable than detention,

will leave the suppressant distressed;

             and no one in range will be blessed               

when, finally, explosively expressed.


 Many names are given to gas;

fart, toot, flatulence to name a few.

Each person labels what we pass

a name most comfortable to you.

 Gas comes singly, loudly, softly’ or in chains.

These sneaky tornadic bursts of air,

 a final reminder of digestive remains,

can clear a room in a matter of seconds!

 So be proud of the gas you pass,

a universal shared reminder of living,

for some day you will turn to grass

so enjoy the gift you are giving!


Gas, in all forms, take up much of our time from natural gas to heat our homes to gasoline to fuel our cars to gas we produce as a bodily function.  Our world as we know it would collapse without gas.  Our intestinal health would collapse without gas.  Yet gas continues to have a bad rap.

We do not like what does not smell good. 

Noxious odors remind us of rot and death and our limited lifespan; therefore they are avoided as a psychological coping mechanism.  Now if I were a psychologist, I am sure I would  be nodding my head assiduously.  But I am not, and the drivel I just wrote came right out of my booty hole.  So gas can also be a metaphor for a whole lotta’ air with no purpose other than to tick me (or others) off.  In any case gas, both real and implied, runs our world.

English: Treason!!! John Bull emits an explosi...

Until I went to college I was embarrassed by what I felt were crude reminders of functions that should not be discussed, no matter how foul the air.  I met my “yang” in college and my lofty opinions changed after associating with a charming, disarming, quirky and immature boy named Scott.  Scott reveled in his abilities to burp the alphabet,  give a concert with his underarms and “gleep” ( a rare and amazing “talent” to shoot spit out in a forceful arc).

Dating someone so entirely different than my own narrow view of life was an amazing experience.  I learned to laugh at myself, take myself a little less seriously, and revel in the moment.  As a nursing student, Scott’s attitude that all functions were normal and interesting was very important to loosening me up a bit, and I thank him for that.  Due to these experiences, I have a deep and lingering fascination for the underlying humor found in simple bodily processes.  In other words, to “dum it down” I am a 10 year old in a 40 year old body.  So I dedicate this humorous poem to Scott, the king of malodorous intestional  air.  Bless you for bringing me down to earth a little.  The following poem addresses the bodily function of gas. Return to the age of ten and smile…..



“Ode” to the Middle Aged Size of my Thighs

There is a body part I do not prize

and that is the lumpy size of my thighs!

For while getting older makes one wise,

it spreads the body to a larger size.

My thighs always won the humor prize,

with varicose veins as fat as French fries.

And no matter how many stair steps I try

they look like lumps of lard, no lie!

Age makes one laugh when once I cried;

Now I just look, hide them and sigh.

I sure hope that when I die

God has planned a thigh surprise

for it would give me a total high

to have thighs that are a perfect size!


I have Lidedema, a condition that causes arms, hips and legs to collect diseased fat.  One the fat is deposited the only “cure” is liposuction.  Dieting will not reduce or eradicate this process.  Little is known about the condition although research is ongoing.  There are 4 stages and 5 types.  The vast majority of healthcare providers know little about it outside of lymphedema centers and a few progressive physicians.  I guarantee you know someone with this condition who suffers silently with many other health problems, as it is really a syndrome.  While I chose in this poem to find humor in it, it is one of the chronic distressful situations that underpin my Borderline Personality Disorder.  For more information, see Lipedema.org or fatdisorders.org

Imperfect (Limerick)

There once was a woman who feared

her man would not shear his beard

and so for fun

she got her gun

and it quickly disappeared!



Limericks are not really my thing, I prefer “odes” for humor but I had fun with this one, written for Intro to Poetry: Imperfect.  It is also autobiographical, as I detest my husband’s beard and refused to date him until he shaved it off.  Now, as the shine has gone from marriage, he dares to wriggle out of our deal.  So writing this has given me an idea, LOL!!!

Of course, I read it to hubby and he Was Not Amused……

Limericks are traditionally composed of five lines of verse, with a common rhyming scheme of a a b b a — the first two lines rhyme, then the next two, and the final verse rhymes with the first couplet.

Ode to the Burp We Slurp

Fame comes in many forms
(to the few who persevere)
but to those who burp beyond the norm
its disgusting to nose and ear
These gustatory eruptions
with a mouthful of flow
give rise to facial disruption
and hands waved to and fro.
Some people have raised
burps to a fine art
reciting alphabetical letters…..
punctuated by juicy farts.
The language of burps
(usually ending in “ps”
like “arp”, “blahp” and “lurp”)
is a Boon to language indeed.
While burping is a function
attributed to manly noise
it raises snickers to a new level
when delivered with grace and poise.
So feel free to expel with flair
and create a burp with musical motif
go on get some room down there
and a stomachfull of sweet relief!
While humor poems are not normally good poetry, I have a fondness for lighthearted poke that only the humor ode can provide.