Petty
The great debate 'tween cat and dog
Had catalytic dogmatics
That filled a pawsome catalog
With doggerel of furry mix.
The cat insisted doggedly,
The dog was full of catterwaul,
Just barking up catastrophe;
A real pet peeve - doggone it all.
This charge was tossed to full dog ear,
And caused the dog to catapult
Scorning catcalls on his pet peer,
In categorical insult.
Dog day heated cataclysm -
Meowite versus bow wowism.
poem by Ima Ryma
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Cheating Online
My husband joined with Second Life,
An online interactive game.
I became the suspicious wife
When his being online became
More and more secretively sly.
So I joined up and found out how
To hire a game made private eye.
The Second Life rules did allow
The tracking of my husband's play,
Most of which was playing around
In computerized carnal way.
Such technology does astound!
It's infidelity of course.
I'm gonna get a real divorce.
poem by Ima Ryma
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Lost for Good
In Southampton, England was found
My Gramps wallet lost long ago.
The finder was intent and bound,
And found my Dad in Chicago.
The wallet was then sent to Dad,
With all the contents still therein;
Some pictures of Gramps as a lad,
With his parents and other kin;
An I.D. with info embossed,
Also bills and a ticket worn.
If that wallet had not been lost,
I might not have even been born.
The ticket was for a sea trip,
First class on the Titanic ship.
poem by Ima Ryma
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You're Up Chuck
Chuck had gone to a medium
To communicate with the dead.
No particular one had come
To mind to talk to, but instead,
Chuck, an avid golfer, did want
To find out if he could still play
Golf, after he'd gone on to haunt.
The medium had this to say,
'Good news, bad news. The good news is
'A great course is waiting for you, '
'To hone your skills as a golf whiz.'
'Hit those shots eternally true.'
'The bad news is that you are due'
'To tee off this Monday at 2.'
poem by Ima Ryma
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Mom Chose Me
Mom was four months pregnant with me,
When she got the very bad news.
She had cancer malignancy.
To treat there was no time to lose.
Mom needed chemo right away,
If there was to be hope at all,
To keep the cancer spread at bay.
An abortion was a must call.
But, Mom said it would have to wait
Till I was safe and sound outside.
I came at the earliest date.
Mom held me close before she died.
My Mom gave all that she could give,
So that I could be born and live.
poem by Ima Ryma
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His and Hers
Mom and Dad had a great big fight
Right in the middle of the store
Where Mom works. It was quite a sight.
I wasn't there. I'm almost 4.
Police came and arrested Dad.
Mom told them it was all because
She dissed Dad's gang, and he got mad.
Mom said her gang, the Crips, sure was
Better than his Ballers by far;
And I would be in the Crips gang
Because that's where the winners are.
Dad went ballistic with a bang.
I'll join whichever gang gives me
A fireman's hat and a puppy.
poem by Ima Ryma
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Mask on Mom
For Mother's Day, I took the hint
Of giving Mom a gift that would
Be green and leave no carbon print.
A facial at home would be good.
So I mixed up an oatmeal goop,
And some seaweed from the fish tank,
Then covered Mom's face, scoop by scoop.
Mom said it itched, and it sure stank.
She wanted it off. I did try.
Dad walked in, took a glance and said,
'Looks like that Jason slasher guy.'
At last unmasked, Mom went to bed.
Going green for Mom is too hard.
Next year it's back to just a card.
poem by Ima Ryma
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A Dog of Few Words
A clerk said, 'Next in line - this way.'
A dog spoke up, 'I guess I am.'
'What can we do for you today? '
'I want to send a telegram.'
The clerk handed the dog a note.
'You'll have to write it out somehow.'
The dog took pen in teeth and wrote,
'Bow wow wow, bow wow wow, bow wow.'
The clerk read what the dog had penned.
'One to ten words have the same fees.'
'There's eight words now, so you can send'
'Another 'bow wow' if you please.'
'No, ' the dog said, 'Just between us, '
'One more would sound ridiculous.'
poem by Ima Ryma
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Beyond the Art
Dad only had a month to live.
I peeked in to tell them goodnight.
Mom was painting. She stopped to give
Me a kiss. 'Your Dad will be all right.'
Next morning, both my folks were gone.
Perhaps they went out for some air.
Mom's new painting was sitting on
Its easel. Mom's class touch was there.
Mom's grace, Dad's strength - what a combo,
For forty years, husband and wife.
I touched the canvas. Where'd they go?
And then the painting came to life.
A couple walked along the sea.
Mom and Dad smiled and waved to me.
poem by Ima Ryma
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Just a Bit
A big hound dog laid on the lawn.
Nearby, an old geezer did sit.
A traveling salesman came on
The scene, and paused there for a bit.
'Does your dog bite? ' the salesman asked.
'Nope.' the old geezer replied back
Then the dog's face got snarling masked.
That salesman came under attack,
Bitten about the arms and head
By the dog, as it fiercely growled.
'Call the dog off. I thought you said'
'It doesn't bite.' the salesman howled.
'My dog don't bite.' smiled the old guy,
''Cause that there dog ain't mine, that's why.'
poem by Ima Ryma
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