Pansies are pansies, or so I’ve been told.
And yet on my porch, hanging out in the cold
Is a potful of purple pigmenting the air.
It’s 40 degrees and they don’t even care.
Petunias for sale at Home Depot and Lowe’s,
Like my tuckus when outside all seem to be froze.
But the pansies are hardy, har har, so that spring
Being later than Elvis, just don’t mean a thing.
As the color so bright spilling out of their pot shows,
They’re misnamed as pansies. They ought to be machos.
4 Responses to “Pansies”
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But as you aptly point out
In their flamboyant shout
The purple says, “He-ey!”
A bit Barney-gay
Like a snap in a Z
Begging, Girl, look at ME!
Was it really from Lowes,
Or the Homo Depots?
I admit that the color’s a little limp-wristed,
In fact, I had doubts, but the pansies insisted
That nothing was queer about lavender petals.
They threatened to beat me, as if fighting settles
An issue like that. Then they pointed out front
To the cherry trees, saying, “I hate to be blunt,
But just look at that gayness, from tip-top to roots.
Their trunks may be straight, but their flowers bear fruits!”
As we go toe to toe
Or perhaps key to key
You don’t stand a chance
You got nuthin’ on me!
Now that’s a big lie
Just look at my nose
Against a musician
I should stick to my prose
Where words got no rhyme
And don’t need no beat
‘Stead of surviving this floe
By the pants of my seat
‘How poetic my license?’
Said one Johnny Vector
Well here’s my response
You Blogosphere Heckler
Now where did I stash it
It was here in my purse
Tampon, no. Wrench, oh-
Here! “It’s as vast as the ‘Verse!”
A plot wrapped in rhythm
And topped with a pun…
You’re witty, I’m pretty
I think we both won!
My name is K and I’m here to say
Wacka chicka-pucka pbbbt.
No I can’t rap,
That was painful.
Here I go making rhymes
That should prob’ly be crimes.
I can’t stop now,
What does this mean?
Well you’ve heard it before
And you know this means war.
No you can’t win,
I’m a rock star.
And I’m just waiting for
My bass modulator.
You’ll hear a great big kaboom!
You’ll be in awe I assume.
Like Nevermore.
Saw your picture.
A/S/L please.
I’d imagine you nude
But WordPress is a prude.
Better stop now.
Getting flirty.
Fixing tires in skirts
You get your Joss desserts.
I’ve kinda lost my motif.
I shoulda tried to be brief.
My god this hurts.
(And what’s with all these weird chords?)