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Bumbling Ardor
by Charles E Minshall
______________________________
What a bumbler I am
When I think of her,
It seems like my days
Are just a blur.
I daydreamed of her
And hammered my thumb,
What foot dancing pain
Now it's totally numb.
I swung the same hammer
To strike a nail,
Missed and hit parts
That determine me male.
That doubled me over
And I banged my head,
I now swing a hammer
With fearsome dread.
With her on my mind
I crunched a finger,
Possibly pains
Number two zinger.
The man who invented
Full suits of armor,
Did it I'm sure
For bumbling ardor.
____________________________
07/07/2002 Posted on 07/07/2002
Copyright © 2025 Charles E Minshall
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kate Demeree on 01/14/03 at 09:45 AM *hugs* Have been there my friend! More than a time or two.... missed this when you posted it. Glad to have the pleasure of reading it now. Hard I know sometimes to keep picking that hammer up. |
| Posted by Agnes Eva on 04/03/03 at 07:28 PM Hahhah. this one is so cute (resonates with my clumsy days)! |
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