Saturday, April 6, 2024

Silly Poetry, Poetry, Poetry!

         An oldie, but a goodie: another one of Fiorella's complaints about the weather, which, for some reason, never seems to pay attention to her 😠😠😠

       Weather Threat

Hey, Mr. Weatherman,                                           

Where's my snow?                                              

The wonderland I ordered up  

A month ago?

  It looks like Spring out--

The grass is green

With not a single snowflake

To be seen--

   Last chance, Mr. Weatherman

Better make it snow

Or else I'll no longer 

Watch your show!


The Whistle-ding-chime-bing-bong Song

    Our teapot whistles

    Our dishwasher dings 

    Our refrigerator chimes

    Our microwave bings

    And our alarm puts out

    One long bong 

    To harmonize

    Our kitchen song!


Yes, I write doodles all the time

And do my best to make them rhyme,

It's cleverness on  Fio's myour help and finebehalf  

Enough to make you smile and laugh😊😊😊



           A Genuinely Silly Poem by Someone in a Hurry

      Eek, eek, eek, and Jim, John, Joe--

I've messed up my poem from head to toe





Here I am running, looking high and low,

     But not at all sure where I should go--

 Except maybe back home on tippy toe--

      And if the sun is drawing low,

      I'll grab up a shovel and hoe, hoe, hoe!


Your girl is going to be shuffling off to Buffalo today or tomorrow to spend some time with her daughter's family, then she'll return to home base and pick up where she left off, for better or worse. In the meantime, she's seen the eclipse--with special glasses, of course--and caught up with Brother and his wife. Fio was thrilled to see the moon play its game, but even more excited to visit with her kin.


Seeing her Fiorella's late parents' belongings being used by the rest of the family (as  she also has done) makes your girl feel warm, as if Mom and Dad are still with her.


 Isn't it great to have a giant black ball splashed across the front of the newspaper rather than politics and the latest murder? Even the Israli--xxXxxx  had to pause.






Friday, April 5, 2024


 Fiorella went all over her room and outside to the trash can to try to find the cord to her computer, and, of course, when she gave up, she glanced toward the edge of her bedstead, and there it was! 

Now for the entertainment:


       Declaration of War

Fiorella is late today 

Not that she has naught to say

Rather that she has far too much

About the state of the world and such--

She wants to rouse the countryside

She wants to echo the world wide

In seeming contradiction, to fight

For love and peace and what is right 



I thought I would never stop crying

That I would never heal

But fire has burned away the dross

And now, I am steel


I'm not big

I'm not strong

Nut at least I know


The Sexes

        Men are strong, but women endure 


In case you are wondering, Fiorella is running through a lot of her oldies so she can find herself again. Age and sorrow has taken it's toll.

Right from wrong


Thursday, April 4, 2024


 Dinner with the Old Belle

     She sat across the restaurant table from us, chewing on her hamburger steak, then spitting it into her napkin, which she had discreetly emptied beneath the table. I knew from past experience that when she finished her meal, she would wrap the leftover rolls in a Kleenex and stuff them inside her purse. 

     It was hard to stomach eating across from her, but she was family, and I knew my obligation.

     "Joyce" was a widow, my husband's much older sister. Her hands were gnarled from arthritis, purple blotches colored her arms, her head bobbed, and her voice didn't work right. She had once been beautiful, a debutante, the belle of the ball. Now she died her hair red in the the bathtub, then insisted it was it's, natural color and dressed in bargains from the thrift store although she could afford much better. This evening she had hung a cameo from her neck by a large safety pin that wicked at me whenever she moved.

      In fact, she looked like a bag lady we were treating to a decent meal.

     The dinner conversation was strained. I remember that she asked us for ideas as to wear she could meet men her age, and all we could think of was antique car shoes.

As we left the restaurant, a flurry of white-haired women came in--laughing, well-groomed, confident women enjoying each other's company. They recognized Joyce as a schoolmate and called her name, smiled, and reached out to her, but Joyce shrank away in horror......

     She was too young to be as old as the were.

Wednesday, April 3, 2024



Tuesday, April 2, 2024


  This morning, the sun was shining, the breeze was just right, and Fio sang "Lavender's Blue" at the bottom of the cul-de sac. Now, she'd feeling sicky. GRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!


Hurry, hurry, scurry, scurry 

Fio is under the gun--

The holy day is swift upon us

And so much is left to be done!


War Cry!

 I can't march, but I can write 

I don't sing, but my pen can!


 (Evening was great! SALMON!)


Monday, April 1, 2024

More and More-----------------------------

 Yes, Fiorella has not mastered her computer, even though she's had it since they first came on the market. She's more an art type, as you well know--but she'd like it the two worked more together.

Your girl is going to be visiting her brother and his wife soon, then her daughter and her family.  WHOOPEE! It will be difficult to get out of the house, what with the packing and all, but Fio will enjoy the scenery and the....well, the news from the other side of town.

Will Fiorella be hauling her computer along with her? OF COURSE!  And you'll hear every bit of her adventure. But what if there isn't any adventure? Then Fio will get something else to amuse you and herself!!!


    I'm not big

     I'm not strong

     But at least I know

     Right from wrong 



     When times get rough,

     Rough and tough

     More than enough

     Fiorella will contrive

     To survive

 What She Lives By

     Economy of motion=economy of time







 More of your girl's poetry, which you may or may or may not have seen before:

                  The Light Bringer

      Because they don't want

      To bother with the shades,

       My children rather squint and grope about

       In the darkened house

       So every morning

       I go to the windows

       And raise the shades myself

        So sunbeams can flood their rooms


 Breathe Deep

          We buy topsoil for the garden

          We buy channels for TV 

           We by water by the carton--

            Thank goodness air is free


           Ah, Nature           

When outside it's wintery

    And inside, it's seventy

     I'm still cold and shivery

When outside, it's summery

      And inside its seventy

      I'm sweating like a piggery


      Cough, Snort, Sneeze

Her dreams are bad, 

And when she wakes

Her throat is raw

Her left ear aches

Her mood is cranky

Her bread is soggy

Her body's hurting

Her movement's loggy

       As you can guess,

       Fio's sick

       And she darn well better

       Get well quick!

(Not every poet writes about mucus😁