Three more found Facebook poems

Oh, I can't resist. I've been writing these for a while, but they've been relegated to a far and distant corner of the Facebook galaxy through its many redesigns. I thought I'd show them the light of day again.

How Can an Ice Cream Factory Have a Fire?

It's still snowing.
I'm practicing my grimace, scowl, and unimpressed glower.
Then I'm going to do as little as possible until I can see the point in doing anything.
It's still snowing.
I'm listening to Mob Barley, and thinking of hitting the gym -- but not until my socks match my spandex.
(Why are you laughing?)
It's still snowing.
Anyone who kicks a garden gnome is no friend of mine, so please: watch, think.

It's still snowing.

Fickle Feline, What's in Your Makeup Bag?

Making chicken soup in a fog, I decided to move to Louisiana.
Doctor said I needed a more balanced life.
Dude sleeps with his tongue out;
Discussed Polkaroo as an agenda topic.
How's THAT for electric?

Happy birthday, Super Mario Brothers.
They drew first blood, not me.

Sara Is Wanting to Write a Poem

I was suffering from locked-in syndrome, writing a book with an eyelid
When I had a visit from a prophet appearing as a garden gnome,
A walking fortune cookie dispensing excellent advice.

We're still seeing rabbits in the moon,
Getting carried away in the stream of idiom like a drunk on a subway train.
Mostly mute, injured again, drowning in a sea of puke.

A torn-up front yard is in my future very soon.
I'm letting the Wookie win.


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