Tag Archives: poems

Treadmill Lament

Requires agility just to get to

Requires agility just to get to

There you stand in my crowded garage
Between plastic bins and file cabinet lodged.
Chrome and rubber and plastic
whispering promises of a body fantastic.


“Walk! Run ! Jog!” I hear you call from afar.
“You spend too much time sitting in the car.”
So I pull on a t-shirt, the Nikes I lace
Step on the rubber mat, gonna make my heart race.


To pass the time, I watch Bones on Netflix
My inspiration some skinny young chicks.
I adjust the speed, faster, and faster I go
Getting into the rhythm of the treadmill flow.


 Look at me!
I’m trying to burn today’s calories.
But the meter reads only one hundred and three!
Heart pumpin’, calves burning, startin’ to sweat
Probably haven’t even  burned off my latte I bet.


Time is passing sloooooow
and I’ve got no where to go.
Faster. Slower. Flat or incline
Minutes passed–only nine!
Don’t watch the clock!                                         securedownload
Pretend you’re a jock!
Forty minutes later, the torture is complete.
My legs hurt, got blisters on my feet.


I’ll see you tomorrow, I promise the treadmill
And, you know, I probably will.
But maybe the next day, or the day after that
Cause I really do have to lose some of this fat.


I write this bad poem in fun and in jest
 But I actually do my very best.
 Just wish there was an easier way to stay svelte
then to walk-run-jog on a big rubber belt.


The Refrigerator Blues

I got the cool–
those dual
Refrigerator blues
 Cuz, it’s true
I need to own two.
Twin places to keep yesterday’s stew
Double the storage for food that’s new.
Two times the space to fill with Tupperware
Of dinner leftovers or restaurant fare.
Mexican fajitas, Chinese take-out
Korean barbecue, half a jar of sauerkraut.


Limpy carrots, a rotten Portobello mushroom
This 2nd fridge is nothing more than a cold food tomb


Bottles of water and two cans of beer
are  carelessly shoved to the very rear
To make room for one pizza slice
 A carton of eggs and leftover rice.


The boxes, the cartons, the plastic wrapped food
Remain there quite nicely, until I’m in the mood
To clean out the 2nd fridge in my spare time.
Then, oh, dear, who knows what I might find!


Out of sight, out of mind,
That’s the well-known rhyme
If only I could remember just what’s inside
Before it rotted, dried out, or died
I would be ever so thrifty and clever
Knowing what I bought, forgetting never!


Then it hits me! It does! As I write this sad verse.
I pull the phone from out of my purse.
I open the fridge door, snap a picture, it’s true
Now I won’t have to guess, I will have a clue!
Once a week, I pledge, the photo I’ll update
The leftovers will be saved from their horrible fate!


In fact, that gives me another idea that’s grand
For trips to the store and super-sized land.
The insides of both refrigerators will I with camera snap
Then I won’t fall into the “do I have that” trap.


Riddle me this:
How can both refrigerator and pantry be stuffed with food
but Hubby and kiddos say we have nothing to eat?

freshest food is behind fridge door #1

who know what lurks behind fridge door #2

Related Posts: Treadmill Lament; My Closet; Wanted: Food Fairy; Gadget Girl; Smokin’ Good Times

Fab Female Friday-Mom

Mom shops for presents and wraps the gifts
Some of which, she can barely lift.
Mom buys the ribbons and the bows
Locates the misplaced scissors and tape, she always knows.


To the mall, to the store, and back again
Always careful about what she spends.
Shopping for deals
Cooking the meals
Stashing the gifts
Buying clothes that actually fit.


Baking the cookies, the fudge, and the pies
Removing the spot from off of dad’s tie
Mom roasts turkey, stirs the gravy, glazes the ham,
And decorates the house with Holiday glam.


Mom is Santa, Mrs. Claus, and the elves combined
A more loving heart, is impossible to find.
So give Mom a break and lend her a hand
Cause, you know she’s your biggest fan.
Merry Christmas, Mom
I love you!



Closet Craziness

My Closet! Or—Why I Never Find Anything to Wear!

Closet closet in my room
In the darkness my clothes do loom
Rumpled, smooshed, wrinkled, or pressed
Doesn’t matter—it  makes me depressed.


Skirt too big, slacks don’t fit
Is it any wonder I throw a fit?
Neckline too high, I’ll look like a nun
Or plunging too low, I ain’t that much fun!
This t-shirt is short, that one’s too long
All these tops are wrong, wrong, wrong.


The sweater is bulky, the wool is itchy
The other’s clingy, no doubt why I’m so b****y
These jeans are baggy, those pants stretch out
Is it any wonder, a gal stresses out?
This skirt’s a bit short—I’ll need some tights
Maybe then, it might look alright.


What was I thinking when I bought this blouse?
It will never, ever make it out of the house.


Too see through, too trashy, too black, too red
Maybe I’ll just go back to bed.
Hideous stripes, tacky print
This might work—but it’s covered in lint.


I know! I know what I must do.
I must purge before I replace with new.


THIS time, I’ll organize by color and style
Then maybe, I wouldn’t get so darn riled.


But I just hate to toss the too tight clothes
Because every girl knows
That next month—for sure—I’ll  go to the gym
Then everything—almost everything—will fit once again.


Give it up! Throw it out! Give it away!
That’s what well-meaning friends and my husband say.
I’m not brave, not that bold,
So I remove a few items and begin to fold.


These clothes shall go into a plastic box
and there remain, my own fabric Fort Knox.


Related Links: Pantry pandemoniumIce cream verse ; Diet Diatribe ; Big Game Apathy ; Treadmill Lament ; Refrigerator Blues ; Ode to Stilettos ; Prom dress poem ;Drawer of Misfit Cosmetics

so many clothes, and nothin’ to wear






Click  Amazon link for novels.

website redendcap