Ode to Champagne

Oh, the horror of it
It happened, it's true
I opened my fridge
And knew I was through

No champagne!

I searched on the shelf
I checked in the door
I went to the cupboard
Hoping to score

No champagne!

I ran to my neighbor's
And told her the troubley
I asked if I might borrow
A cupful of bubbly

No champagne!

She searched in her fridge
And double-checked in the door
She went to her cupboard
Hoping to score

No champagne!

Continuing my quest
I hopped into my car
Surely a supply of the stuff
Couldn't be far?

No champagne!

To the market I hastened
I cut through the crowds
Made a beeline for the wine cooler
And shouted out loud

Champagne!

I bought a dozen bottles
There's a discount that way
And ignoring the disapproving glances
Stepped up to pay

Champagne!

The refrigerator replenished
My cupboard completed
I raised up my goblet
And this solemn vow repeated

Champagne!

Life is too short
So I shall take a firm stand
To always keep a champagne stash
Chilled and on hand

My Moody Muse

When my muse comes down with a horrid blight

The writing goes wrong with no end in sight

Every word, thought, and sentence turns out trite

Leaving me feeling oh so contrite

And wondering if an end will appear for my impossible plight



But when the writing goes right

My muse alights

To amazing new heights

Of creative delights

Then the sun shines bright

And my mood takes flight!

Proper ID Required

A rose is still a rose

By any other name.

But if Rose gets mislabeled Samantha

The author is to blame


The Charlie I was so sure of

Informs me about mid way

That really deep down inside himself

He's always been a Jay


Syd's Bar and Grill on Finch Street

Never seemed quite right

The bar became Beau's Bistro

And the happy hour brewski turned into a red wine flight.


I struggle with accurate naming

A good moniker means a lot

Since a character misidentified

Can really mess up a plot

This Ain't No Love Poem: A Message to the GOP

My poems are meant to be funny and cute

But sometimes the GOP makes me just want to puke.

This week it's birth control. I can't take it no more.

Are these evil male people really that sure

They'll carry elections with judgement so poor?

A message to Ronny, Mitt, Ricky, and Newt

Come November I'm guessing you'll all be capoot.

Research is Not So Poetic

Research: a nuisance, a challenge, a chore

The part of writing I find rather a bore

But this week I've been Googling, Googling galore

To learn about Hawaii and all of its lore



My WIP is set in that state

And what's really great?

So is a movie

Starring George Clooney

My mystery should be funnier.

But trust me, the research will never be sunnier.

Playing With Poetry: No Regrots

They tell me I should be bloggin'

To hit people over the noggin

About how clever and witty and funny I be

So that y'all can't wait to see

My books!

A poet I am not

But on Sundays I'll give it a shot

Filling cyber-space with this kind of rot

And then when you read my actual mystery plots

You won't have no regrots

Book Two Finished

Now that book two is wrapped up, I need to figure out the outline for book three in the Cue Ball Mysteries. Perhaps somewhere tropical?