Creative Challenge: Table

I am enthralled by her surface, smooth, flat and sturdy

One can’t help but admire her legs shapely and pretty

Oft times she is modestly covered, appropriately dressed

The times when she wears nothing, I am dutifully impressed

Her adornments can be elegant, but always utilitarian

When you meet her you won’t believe she is a septuagenarian

She has many names, among which her favorite is “Mable.”

One thing which cannot be denied, Mable keeps an excellent table.

 

 

© Tim D. Culey -2013-

 

 

 

News Update

Missing Wallets

by Tim Culey

Special Report to the New Orleans Times Picayune

A late breaking report from the New Orleans Police Department indicates that as of today there have been 35,000 reports of missing wallets among those who attended Sunday's Super Bowl game in the NOLA Superdome.

When asked about this interesting development, Mayor Mitch Landrieu called it "an unfortunate moment" in what he said was an "otherwise shining Super Bowl week" for New Orleans.When asked about the significance of the power being out for 35 minutes and 35,000 wallets reported missing, the Mayor replied, "Just an unfortunate coincidence."

The Mayor also cautioned that the number might increase in the coming days as more people sober up.

Other officials, who asked to remain anonymous declared, "We are glad the power was not out any longer than it was."

 

 

 

 

Seems True

Click image to enlarge

Creative Challenge: Golden

 

I look at the Creative Challenge and simply sigh

That I have this golden chance and know not why.

This challenge might be the most difficult yet

That in golden letters it should be set.

Not knowing the ending I must make a start

With golden promises that, are in my heart.

Shall I tell of an angel in a golden bed of glory

Then in gold clasps lock in the golden story?

Should I speak of the one of my truest desire?

Her fleece to be touched as dangerous golden fire.

The touch of her lips leaves me feverishly hot

So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not.

As when the golden sun salutes the morn

With silken coats and golden rings to adorn.

Her hand in mine sends tremors through my very bones

Her golden touch could soften steel and stones

Her golden voice, from a golden era is a target

And that's the golden mark I seek to hit.

 

© Tim D. Culey -2013-

 

Perhaps the Tremeloes said it best.

Cold Steel

The man behind me is holding a razor to my neck

I must control my breathing, keep my emotions in check

I don’t want to anger him, not even in the least

I just sit here anxiously not uttering a peep

 

 

Suddenly something warm and wet is on my face

Why do I feel I’ve not been dealt an ace?

My bladder is full, and my pants are dry

That could change suddenly, I’m not sure why.

 

 

The man has a name, I’m almost certain it is Bill

A Spaniard by birth and the Barber of Seville

At first I am shocked when the substance whorls

It is just shaving cream down my check that swirls.

 

 

 

© Tim D. Culey -2013-

 

 

 

                                Figaro?