Posts Tagged ‘humor’




The gray haired lady

next door

thought I didn’t see her

ducking behind a curtain

watching me

on my knees

weeding the rose garden

four months pregnant

long hair like Cher’s

with the bangs

husband on the porch

playing “Guess Who

on our new 8-track


if it was too loud.




I duck behind the curtain

convinced they can’t see me

watching them

as she sweeps the porch

pregnant belly half bare

short hair in spikes,

her boyfriend’s Harley

revving up

tattoos shining

heavy bass beating

from a window.

I hope they don’t see me

but yes

it’s just too loud.



© 2018  Betty Hayes Albright



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Gramma Krackers


I love when flowers

go to seed

and chickadees

come to feed

and there’s no need

to deadhead,

nor to weed.



© 2012, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright 


(re-post… a Gramma Krackers poem)

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They were hydrogen.

He was nucleus

stable, self-contained,

she was electron


caught by attraction

held firmly in place

unable to split.


©  1982, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright


(re-post of a poem written in 1982)


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Possum tumbles

like an old football

through branches

to the garden below.

Dazed, he snuffles

through warm leaves

climbs again

limb by slow limb

to his dozing nest

where he’ll finish his dream

of the gardener below

who is wiping her shoe

on the grass.

He thinks she is kind

and tonight

he will leave another offering.


(c) 1997, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright


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The chorus is in chaos.

I lie awake and listen

to the frogs

across the wetlands –

their indiscreet cacophony,

their bald discordant din

of tuneless bass

and baritones,

and one quite well-intentioned

adolescent squork.


Then comes Gaia

dressed as Maestro

waving her baton

in phosphorescent

ups and downs

until the chorus

is entranced  

with “con amore”

in an ocean

of full moons.

And finally it’s adagio



that fades

to midnight indigo.


And then one last harumph

and off to sleep.


©  2017  Betty Hayes Albright


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When you say haiku,

I say gesundheit,

give you a tissue.


When you say tanka

I say you’re welcome –

we are so polite.


When you say meter

I think therefore iambic.

Tell me you are too.


Can you play on words?

Maybe if they all had wheels

they could play on you.


(c) 2012, 2016  Betty Hayes Albright


(A re-post – plus this was also posted on “Gramma Krackers” a couple of years ago. My apologies to those who have already read it.)

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(From 1976 – when health food stores were a novelty.)


Carob nuggets,

stone-ground wheat,

papaya juice

squeezed fresh and sweet,

creamy milk

raw from the cow,

alfalfa sprouts

and protein chow,


all organic grown,

honey vacuumed

from the comb,

garden herbs,

home-made wine,

molasses drops

and seaweed brine,

yogurt culture,

wheat-germ cakes,

soybean patties,

rose hip flakes –

eat them chopped up,

mashed or diced

till you are what you eat:



© 1976, 2014 Betty Hayes Albright


(Photo from morgueFile free photos)

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