Category Archives: light verse

The Anesthesiologist.

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Bow tie underneath a grin

Peeking out as he looks in

To greet the body

Waiting for

His recipe for making sleep.

The anesthesiologist

Keeps a special, secret list

Of pills to feed the

Patient who,

Hallucinating mucous plugs

Devouring microscopic bugs,

Decides

that he is just a cr…….

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from “Bad Poems About People”, Volume I. (pre-publishing.)

© Ruth Ann Scanzillo    10/23/16      All rights for lame poetry those of the author, whose name appears above this line.  Thank you for the disregard.

littlebarefeetblog.com

How to [Mis]Handle a Woman.

 

1.) Ask her, in print, if she is attending an event. Then, tell her you’ll pick her up.

[ Women have cars. ]

[ Generally, women prefer being picked up only by elephants, and even then, prickly backs.]

[ Never tell a woman what she is going to do. ]

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2.) Show up at her house, in the rain, while she is having company, and begin to alter the appearance of her property.

[ Women actually own property. ]

[ Generally, women prefer to make the decisions regarding their property. ]

[ Trespassing is a misdemeanor. ]

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3.) Offer to come over and set her mousetraps. When you arrive, declare that the house needs to be cleaned first, and then sterilize the floor. Don’t apologize when none of the traps are tripped.

[ Women know when they are pigs. ]

[ Generally, offering to do something for a woman that she is capable of doing for herself is considered condescending. ]

[ Mice urinate on their trails, so they can return to where they found the food.]

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4.) As a surprise, give her a gift of shower soap.

[ Women have shower soap. They get it from their nieces on Christmas. ]

[ Generally, a woman wears deodorant.]

[ Never imply that a woman smells funny. It’s probably the henna.]

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5.) When a woman puts on her coat, size her up and tell her you will buy her one that is black and more “appropriate” for the occasion.

[ Women are tired of black.]

{ Generally, a woman chooses outer apparel first for comfort, then for fabric quality and, finally, for color. ]

[ Never tell a woman what is appropriate for any occasion. ]

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6.) When a woman steps into her boots, tell her she looks “like an old Polack from the East side.”

[ Women wear the boots. ]

[ Generally, women both choose their own footware and the way in which they kick with it.]

[ You are a bigot and a jerk. Go home and [mis]handle yourself. ]

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© 4/11/16 Ruth Ann Scanzillo   – littlebarefeetblog.com

All rights strictly reserved; permission to reprint granted only by written request. Thank you for your respect.

littlebarefeetblog.com

 

 

“Tony” – by Betty Sweet.

( I can just hear my father:  “HAHAA!  Look at that heada hayuh! “)

* This poem was created by my mother, L. Elisabeth [Sweet] Scanzillo, for a Valentine’s Day party.  It is the chronicle of her love story.  Thank you —  RAS

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“Twas a night in December, on a railroad train

The steam engine was frozen, we waited in vain…

At the station, in Syracuse (the year, forty-two)

The car packed with soldiers, but not one that I knew!

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The stillness was startling: no “clickety-clack!!”

You awoke in your corner, jumped up, and looked back

O’er the snoozing and snoring. “Oh, no! It can’t be!”

“Is that a young chick, all alone, that I see?”

.

“I’ll just mosey on back there – she looks kind of cute

I need some excitement on this boring route….

“Why, hello there, young lady. How far are you going?”

“To New York”, I replied – as my heart went “boing!”

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“Well, isn’t that something? I’m going there, too.

I hope you don’t mind if I sit beside you?”

Your eyes, how they twinkled, your smile was so sweet…

I wanted to answer: “Oh, please, take a seat!”

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But, rather than seem too ready and willing

I said: “Aren’t there other seats that need filling?”

“I’ll just sit down, anyway!” you said, with a grin.

(I didn’t even notice the week’s growth on your chin.)

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So, all the night long, til the morning at ten

We talked and we laughed, and you sang to me. Then,

we said our “goodbyes” as we got off the train

And, I wondered if ever I’d see you again.

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Now, forty-three years have elapsed, and it’s true

Your hair has turned grey, and your whiskers have, too

Your eyes have that twinkle, and your smile is still bright

(Except when you take out your teeth for the night.)

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Life with an Italian is never a bore

Although there are times when it is a real chore.

But, our years together have been rather nice

Else, why do you think I married you twice? *

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And, now, as I write this, I’m thinking again

If it weren’t for that trip, what my life might have been

For all of these years, since that one, fateful night

Because, I know now, it was “love at first sight” !

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by Betty Scanzillo, circa 1987

all rights reserved, on behalf of my mother, whose story is hers alone.

* Mum and Dad were first married in 1944, then divorced two years later for a total of nearly 10 years, after which they remarried each other. Neither one had married anyone else in the meantime. I was the first child born of their reunion.

© Ruth Ann Scanzillo  Please, respect the rights of this post. Thank you.

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