“The Truth” [An Honest Spouse]

An “Honest/Tasteless” *Paulmark* sonnet from the Tasteless Greeting Cards Sonnet Sequence

You’re always asking, “Have I put on weight?”.
I’d set myself at liberty with truth
By pointing out the weight you’ve gained since youth,
But truth’s an arrow deadliest when straight.
I’ve never seen a meal on any plate
In which you’d hesitate to sink a tooth,
But saying so would be a bit uncouth
And ill befits a peace-desiring mate.

To best avoid a long and bitter fight,
I’ll keep on grinning that beguiling grin
And saying, when your clothes become too tight,
“My dear, how do you stay so very thin?”
…Or compliments [just as overused and trite]
About you being slender as a pin.

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HENRY VIII

[from “In the Underworld” by Paul “Whitberg” Burgess]

“There’s Henry, [king once Henry Number Seven
Departed, like a bird that’s migratory
To dwell in Hell, oblivion, or Heaven
…or maybe controversial Purgatory.
…Let’s hope his lucky number helped to leaven
His soul and make it rise to peaceful glory.
…Though what’s required of one who leads or reigns
Is apt to ‘merit’ everlasting pains.]

He was as cherished by the pious Pope
As grain is by a city-dwelling pigeon
‘Til his divorce received a papal ‘Nope’
[Which made him father Anglican religion.
With changed belief, some people couldn’t cope,
But, of remorse, he never felt a smidgeon.
One had to seem to ridicule and scorn
The system held supreme when he was born.

…In time, few people seemed to think it odd
To be eternally at war and strife
With those denying it was willed by God
To change a nation’s form of afterlife
Because a king desired a diff’rent broad
To serve his craving for a fertile wife.
“Divorce thee,” holy God was heard to say,
And England’s king was willing to obey.]

‘Three Cath’rine’s plus two Anne’s and Lady Jane‘
Is not a modern television show
Or lyrics to a musical refrain
But wives on Henry’s list. [Although not low,
The number might’ve soared if Henry’s reign
Weren’t ended by ‘the fate all undergo’
…which is a fancy way of saying ‘death’—
A state that’s known to take away one’s breath].

To torture, Henry’s shade is now subjected:
The Lord of Hades’ says, “The earthly plea
To be divorced must always be rejected.
The ring you gave to each on bended knee
Ensures your wives and you remain connected
Throughout the rest of cold eternity.”
I thought to ask if Henry’s wives approved,
But Will insisted it was time we moved.

Happy 50th Anniversary!

[Another “Tasteless Greeting Card” by Paul “Whitberg” Burgess]

The portrait gath’ring dust inside a bin—
The one for which two newlyweds once sat—
Reveals you’ve changed in only “this” and “that”
…by which I mean, he’s grown a double chin,
And hair, along with wits, are getting thin
Beneath his perspiration-dripping hat.
[…He’s not the only one who’s gotten fat
Or turned into a bag of hanging skin.]

Although you both are lacking proper teeth,
From passion’s fruits you still can take a bite.
It won’t be long before you go beneath,
So, take advantage of this special night,
And strive to win for Love a laurel wreath
By loving ‘til you perish from delight.

“Tasteless Greeting Cards”

3 dark and tasteless parodies of Hallmark, Blue Mountain, and other sentimental greeting card publishers. [Disclaimer: I am well aware that these are among the vilest poems ever written…]

Happy Birthday! (For a Toddler)

Congratulations on surviving life!
Your parents must be feeling very proud
To know you’ve had no mishap with a knife
Or shocking jolt of lightning from a cloud.
Your early years suggest you’ve got the smarts
Enough to not attempt to leap from cribs,
Ingest inedible and toxic parts,
Or make a noose composed of baby bibs.
Nor have you turned the toilet to a pool,*
Divided wires by giving them a bite,
Disjointed your torso with a power tool,
Or eaten whole a deadly parasite.
Again, your parents must be filled with pride
To know their child has not of dumbness died.

Alternate line: Nor have you choked to death on your own drool. [Even I thought the line went too far…]

[Related to my “Suicidal Baby Theory”: https://paulwhitberg.wordpress.com/2014/05/16/profound-insights-from-dr-burgesss-treasury-of-wisdom-installment-1/ ]

Happy Father’s Day (For a Father of a Teenage Girl)

Your precious daughter’s not a little girl
(That is, she’s not a virgin anymore).
She’s nightly causing teenaged toes to curl
And teaching beds to dance across the floor.
You, Dad, deserve a round of hearty praise
For making sure your daughter didn’t die
Before she’d reached that adolescent phase
When people give the art of love a try.
How swiftly pass the fleeting days and times!
One moment she’s a child at Mother’s breasts,
Then, suddenly, she’s searching for some dimes
To buy a box of “Are You Pregnant?” Tests.
The girl you used to rock upon your knee
Is making boys as happy as can be.

With Deepest Regrets? [For Divorcees]

“I know it seems your life’s been badly marred.
[It’s rumored by a close and friendly source
That soon you’ll file the papers for divorce.]
If leaving now appears too sad and hard,
Just know you’ll later heal if now you’re scarred.
For Time’s the Planet’s greatest healing force
And cures the folks who let it take its course.”
[In case I’m wrong, I’ve sent a second card…]
“If leaving now appears a happy choice,
And joy’s the only cause of falling tears,
Then, let’s invite some friends, and we’ll rejoice
(With party songs and rivers made of beers)
While fin’lly giving free, exalted voice
To sore resentment built up over years.”

 

With Deepest Regrets?

a mock (intentionally trite) greeting card by Paul “Whitberg” Burgess

Dual-Purpose Hallmark Card:
[Italian Sonnet]
“I know it seems your life’s been badly marred.
[It’s rumored by a close and friendly source
That soon you’ll file the papers for divorce.]
If leaving now appears too sad and hard,
Just know you’ll later heal if now you’re scarred–
For Time’s the Planet’s greatest healing force
And cures the folks who let it take its course.”
[In case I’m wrong, I’ve sent a second card…]
“If leaving now appears a happy choice,
And joy’s the only cause of falling tears,
Then, let’s invite some friends, and we’ll rejoice
(With party songs and rivers made of beers)
While fin’lly giving free, exalted voice
To sore resentment built up over years.”

 

*This poem was an excuse to attempt an Italian sonnet…

 

Death to Writing?

Oh, Muse, is it now time to pull the cord,

Since, by my work, my wife’s entirely bored?

–an epigram by Paul “Whitberg” Burgess

“Fame in Marriage”

Part I: Stanza 6 of “The New House of Fame”
Perhaps the surest way to find the House—
Aside from being born behind its doors—
Is to become a famous person’s spouse.
Your fans will multiply like fertile spores
If you become a star’s domestic louse
Or follow him or her on promo tours.
You’ll be the House’s queen or king
By virtue of your royal wedding ring.

The stanza is likely more enjoyable in its original context:

https://paulwhitberg.wordpress.com/2014/06/24/an-introductory-guide-to-becoming-rich-and-famous-2/

A Not-So-Lonely Person…

A man who in Utah Texas resides
Has acquired a houseful of brides.
He has one for each day
In both April and May
And perhaps a few more that he hides.

 

a limerick by Paul Burgess

Inspired by the following brilliant limerick by by R.J.P. Hewison:

There once was an old man of Lyme
who married three wives at a time.
When asked, “Why a third?”
He replied, “One’s absurd!
And bigamy, sir, is a crime.”

 

a bonus limerick on marriage (by limerick master John Ciardi)

It took me some time to agree
to appear in a film about me
and my various ex-wives
detailing our sex lives,
but I did–and they rated it G.

P.S. If you happen to believe in polygamy, please do not show up at my house with pitchforks. My official stance is, in the words of the Isley Brothers, “It’s yo thang, do whatchoo wanna do.”

Horse Love

Dedicated to fellow residents of Kentucky–a place where many people love nothing more than horses, basketball, and rumors:

[ image borrowed from http://www.horsenation.com ]

“Horse Lover”
It’s said by a reliable source
That your father’s too fond of his horse.
Will he have an affair
Or just marry the mare
Once your mother agrees to divorce?

A limerick by Paul Burgess

“My Wife’s Garden”

“My Wife’s Garden”
The stems through which the water slowly runs
Contain, of course, the rain and daily suns,
But something else inside the flowers lives
That neither sun nor falling water gives.
Those petals, leaves, and roots within them hold
The loving labor, sweat, and hours untold
She joyfully provides them ev’ryday
With smiles that nurture like a solar ray.