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”

  1. 1 ycycle

    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?

  2. 2 Kevin

    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!”

  3. 3 ycycle

    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!

  4. 4 Kevin

    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?)

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