Kvetch

Image courtesy of 3fatchicks

Kvetch

I never met a one like you

whose negativity shines through.

This poem’s the salute I sketch

for all you do.  You kvetch, kvetch, kvetch.

You criticize, I must confess.

No matter what, you must redress

your point (to death) in acid-etch.

Yes, all you do is kvetch, kvetch, kvetch.

The food’s too salty, sweet or cold.

If someone’s wronged, you’re wronged two-fold.

You sound like an ungrateful wretch

and all you do is kvetch, kvetch, kvetch.

And if you go to see a show,

you will complain, “It sucks, you know.

The acting’s bad.  The plot?  Farfetched.

And all you’ve done is kvetched, kvetched, kvetched.

You never compliment your host,

unless it’s qualified, at most.

You whine, you sulk, pretend to retch

and all you do is kvetch, kvetch, kvetch.

But can you take it?  No, you can’t.

Constructive words just make you rant.

You are the king of Kingdom Quetch*

‘cause all you do is kvetch, kvetch, kvetch.

I never met a one like you…

See, all you do is kvetch, kvetch, kvetch.

###

Notes:  The inspiration for today's Kyrielle Sonnet (and then some) came from the prompt of 'complaining' - thoughtfully (and without any whining whatsoever) provided for by Daniel Ari on his Imunuri blog.  I just couldn't resist.  Wine and cheese, anyone?

Ghosts of the Theater - Acts I and II

The Majestic Theater

This poem is an ode to what

was once a classic show-house, but

she’s now a ghost of her grand past

since Vaudeville was not meant to last.

 

The famous and the passing-thru

performers would wait for their cue

to grace the boards.  The long-gone cast

of Vaudeville were not meant to last.

The silent films and talkies turned

the stage show into something spurned.

Majestic’s lavish time had passed:

like Vaudeville, she could never last.

This poem is an ode to what

(like Vaudeville) was not meant to last.

###

Image courtesy of shadesofthedeparted

 

 

Theda Bara

A siren of the silent screen,

she was ‘The Vamp,’ a movie queen.

Her costumes were once thought ‘risqué’

but Bara, in her day, held sway.

In Hollywood, the Walk of Fame

contains a star for Theda’s name.

‘Though Mary Pickford had cache

Ms. Bara, in her day, held sway.

In more than forty films, she played

assorted roles, ‘til time did fade

her popularity. Today

exotic Bara still holds sway.

A siren of the silent screen…

La Bara, in her day, held sway.

###

Notes: The inspiration for the two Kyrielle Sonnets (yes, I'm at it again!) was Sepia Saturday's prompt of 'theater' along with their posting of the archival photograph of the Majestic Theater (see above.)  At first, my thought was to write a poem about one of the old grande dames of the silent era (Theda Bara) but then I decided to pen something about the old Majestic, too.

Dolly

Image courtesy of pigtailsinpaint

Sis and Molly and Me, 1912

Sis and I said, “Molly, good night.

Close your eyes.  We’ll turn out the light.

Slumber sweetly, dearest Molly.

You’re the bestest ever dolly!”

With the photo of this scene

memories get stirred too keen.

Back then life did sure seem jolly

with our bestest ever dolly.

But now my sister’s gone, and so

I wonder where the time did go.

Dwelling is just wasted folly…

Gosh, I miss Sis and our dolly.

Sis and I said, “Molly, good night.

You’re the bestest ever dolly!”

###

Notes: To finish out the week, I decided to do one final Kyrielle Sonnet.  (Okay - I admit it - I'm kinda hooked on the form.)  Anyway, Sepia Saturday provided the prompt for my poem, which is 'dolls.'   I wasn't sure where I was going to go with this one, since my parents have most of the old family portraits at their house, but when I found this vintage photograph online, I started thinking about memories, and the rest - well...it just happened.

A Thin Veneer

Image courtesy of paintingsilove

Veneer

To say goodbye is difficult:

I want more time.  That’s one result.

Another is my sense of fear.

My face is but a thin veneer.

So, au revoir, auf wiedersehen.

Our memories are what remain.

My cheerful smile is not sincere.

My face is but a thin veneer.

You wave your hand and I’ll wave mine.

We’ll tell each other we’ll be fine

since hope will always persevere.

My face is but a thin veneer.

To say goodbye is difficult:

My face is but a thin veneer.

###

Notes:  Once again, the form I chose to use is Kyrielle Sonnet.  The idea for the poem was inspired by Poets United Thursday Think Tank, whose prompt word is 'goodbyes.'

Fried

Image courtesy of Marijke's Blog

Fried

There’s nothing that can get a rise

from folks like crispy (ummm!) French fries.

That über tuber tater tot?

It’s one fast food we like a lot.

And yes, in Britain, ‘chips’ they’re called.    

No matter, since we’re still enthralled

by shoestrings, crinkles and whatnot.

It’s one fast food we like a lot.

They even made a stamp (above ↑)

to honor fried potato-love.

With burgers, it just hits the spot.

It’s one fast food we like a lot.

There’s nothing that can get a rise…

It’s one fast food we like a lot.  

###

Notes:  I found a cool website called Viridian's Postcard Blog whose weekend post was all about food-themed postage stamps.  Although their 'Mr. Linky' was already closed by the time of my 'discovery' of this site (yesterday), I was curious and began searching for a few images of those food-themed postage stamps.  In the end, I found a number of them from a diverse assortment of countries.  A couple of them had some really interesting artwork, but the stamp above was the one that 'fried' or rather, 'fired' my imagination.  

The form, as has been for the last few days, is Kyrielle Sonnet.

UPDATE: Theme Thursday's prompt this week is 'produce.'  Since the über tuber tater tot is (in its original form) a form of produce, I'm gonna be lazy and give 'em this one.  ☼

The Touchy Tribe of Poets

Image courtesy of tBlog

The Touchy Tribe of Poets

"I put up with a great deal to pacify the touchy tribe of poets." ~Horace

So everyone’s a critic, eh?

You write your heart out; then they say,

“Your meter’s off.  The rhyme is slant.”

It’s poetry! I won’t recant.

So then you try to pen free verse.

The touchy ones cry, “Yuck!  It’s worse

than when you wrote in rhyme.”  You rant…

It’s poetry! I won’t recant.

So then you say, “Well, I’ll write prose!”

but when you try to (arrggggh!) compose,

a poem blooms just like a plant.

It’s poetry! I won’t recant. 

So everyone’s a critic, eh?

It’s poetry! I won’t recant.  

### 

Notes:  Yep - once again, I felt compelled to write a Kyrielle Sonnet.  (And I won't recant either!)  But anyway, in case you were wondering, the inspiration, this time, came from the word prompt of 'tribe' courtesy of Sunday Scribblings.  

Keep it under your hat...a conversation piece

Millinery Mise-en-Scene

“I can wear a hat or take it off, but either way it’s a conversation piece.” ~Hedda Hopper

Your hat’s a conversation piece,

accessory of great caprice,

which tells the world that you’re so fine.

Your hat is, simply put, your shrine.

With flowers, bows and feathers, too,

the hat’s an independence coup

which says, “Here’s where I draw my line.”

Your hat is, simply put, your shrine.

So wear a bonnet or a trilby,

or chapeau, and then you will be

elegant…so chic, you’ll shine.

Your hat is, simply put, your shrine.

Your hat’s a conversation piece…

Your hat is, simply put, your shrine.

###

Notes:  The form is (once again, 'cause I liked it so much!) Kyrielle Sonnet.  The inspiration for this poem comes from the above picture (which is a still from a silent film called 'The New York Hat' - from 1912) which was thoughtfully provided for by Sepia Saturday.