Jest Laughing At Me 

funny, funny, funny

I wrote the following  poem in response to a patient who kept trying to flirt with me whenever I was on duty in the hospital.  He was ill, and I wrote this to lighten  the situation with humor so that I could put him off without putting him down.  It said, "I don't take your advances seriously."  He got a big kick out of it.


by Joyce Guy 

I don't look bad for 65,
If I do say so myself
My hand's still quicker than the eye
And my feet still move with stealth.

My skin is brown and even,
With the help of make-up base,
And the wrinkles set about my eyes
Say I've a laughing face.

And see these muscles full and firm,
with little excess fat;
I only sag a little bit,
And my stomach's kinda flat.

My vision is 20-20,
Like it's always been,
If I'm seeing things way far off
Or have my contacts in.

My hair is pretty golden brown,
With the help of Miss Clairol,
Sure I've lost a little bit,
But still I am not bald.

I don't look bad for 65;
Years have been kind to me...
B>I don't look bad for 65
But then I'm only 43.



Caution At Auctions by Joyce Guy

I attended my first general auction
To see what the fuss was about,
But after three hours of sitting
I still remain somewhat in doubt.

The auctioneer, in front of the crowd,
Spoke a language I  never had heard;
 He seemed to have quite a stutter,
 And spoke clearly hardly a word.

They showed some exquisite items,
From homes of people with class;
 Some gold and silver and jewels
And something called depression glass

I soon found the speaker quite boring,
And spotted a friend cross the way;
I waved as I caught her attention
Two or three times through the day.

I sneezed at a neighbor's cologne,
And I took out my hanky and blew;
For my allergy really cut loose,
This happened a time or two,

The reason I guess I'm still puzzled
Is that when I arose to go home,
a good deal of cash was requested
For two vases and one golden gnome;

For one silver plate and a ladle,
A ring set in diamonds and pearl,
An old Stradavarian fiddle
and a jewel studded globe of the world

It seems when I waved at my friend,
And my nose on my hanky I blew;
That by some weird secret signal
I also was buying things too.




         by Joyce Guy 

"Yes," I told the salesman,
"I want that for my car.
Does the number on my door
Begin and end with `R'?"

"Well, I don't know for goodness sake;
I'm only on an errand:
My husband said to pick one up,
and get an extra bearing."

"I don't know what the voltage is
Or which way it is mounted;
I only know it looks like that,
And that it's really wanted."

"Yes, I know the model,
And I know the color, too,
But I don't know which diapole
I'll leave that up to you."

The kindly salesman shook his head,
 And had a little chuckle;
While I felt just inches tall,
And thought my knees would buckle.

But that's OK I made it through,
And, with a smirk upon my face,
Made plans to send my hubby out
For some Satin, Bras, and Lace.


Mental Lapse

by Joyce Guy

 I've gone to wash dishes
A dozen times or more;
Overflowed the sink,
And flooded  the floor.

I no sooner get
the water turned on
Than I leave the room,
or answer the phone.

The first clue I have
Of a memory lapse
Is my sloshing in water,
As I return in my path.

The waterfall tumbling over
sink edge with foam
Makes me doubly thankful
that I'm home alone;

For how can you explain
A gal in her prime
forgetting entirely...
A lapse of the mind.



by Joyce Guy 

Some of us are klutzy,
I guess we're born that way;
How else would you explain it,
Being awkward in every way?

How some people do it
I'm sure I'll never know;
They never trip and stumble
However fast they go

They never have an armful
Of books and packs galore,
And feel them shift and avalanche,
Cascading to the floor.

They never trip on their shoelace,
 Or leave their blouse tag out
Or stick the zipper halfway up,
 Or tear their hemline out.

You never see their purse strap
Grab a passing knob;
Or their feet rebel and stumble
on a tiny unseen stob.

They move about with grace,
and very regal bearing;
While I go klutzing through life,
Pretending lack of caring.

But I would like, eventually,
to arrive, each hair in place,
And make my entrance quietly,
not topple on my face.  


Driving Lessons

by Joyce Guy

Giving driving lessons
is a parental chore;
But though I love my offspring
I can take no more.

First I took a valium,
to calm my spastic nerves
so I could remain unrattled
as we surfed the big "S" curves.

My feet are sore and swollen
from bracing on the floor;
my hands are locked in spasms
from when I gripped the door;

My teeth will now need capping,
where I've worn them down,
from biting, gritting, grinding
as we covered ground.

My manicure is ragged
where I've chewed my nails:
I've taken Pepto Bismal
should peristalsis fail;

But I was quite delighted
as we achieved a jerky rest
and my teen aged driver said
that I had passed the test.  





Parking Spaces

by Joyce Guy

I sat there very patiently,
with the brake held by my foot,
while they loaded up their car
with all their shopping loot.

Dad fumbled around and dropped the keys
that open up the door,
and wiped the baby's runny nose
while I waited sometime more.

Mother settled the children in;
while daddy gave them toys;
then mother divvied out the snacks
to hungry girls and boys.

I knew the wait was worth my while,
 so I idled there,
knowing I was running late
with little time to spare.

At last the car came backing out;
relief played on my face;
but as I shifted gears to move
someone stole my parking place.  



Snow  White

by Joyce Guy 

No, that isn't snowflakes,
nor is it hail stones on the floor;
though it may seem to be
from your position by the door.

I felt in need of a snack,
on the low fat plan;
so I plugged in the hot air popper,
 but forgot the corn catch pan.  



Just Horsing Around

 by Joyce Guy 

They said there's nothing to it, 
   if I could get astraddle,
     so I put my foot into the stirrups
and my butt into the saddle. 

She must have known 
it was the first time I had ridden, 
as she gently walked the bridal path 
and seemed to do my bidding. 

I relaxed a little bit 
as things seemed to go my way; 
I thought I might reward her 
with a carrot and some hay. 

My riding pardner swears 
the mare gave him a wink 
before she rushed up to a pond 
and dumped me in the drink.


Written after my  
heart attack and 
by-pass surgery. 
Changing my 
lifestyle and 
eating habits 
was no fun. 
After taking 
the medication 
my stomach  
expanded to 
a tight drum.  
You had better 
learn to see 
the humor in  
selfe defense.

Ode To Gemfibrozil*

by Joyce Guy
My blood is mostly cholesterol,
according to the Lab,
and triglycerides, from eating fats
more than just a dab.

My doctor, quite a helpful guy,
said "We'll get it under control;
You modify your diet,
and I'll get you on a roll.

He prescribed for me a great big pill*;
and said "take it twice a day
and it will work like magic
to take those fats away."

And, sure enough, the next time
we gave my blood a check,
triglycerides were cut by half;
The treatment worked, by heck!

My girth has quite expanded,
I'm much  bigger round the middle,
But I guess it is the price I pay
to be  fit as a fiddle.

"What happened to the fatty blood?"
is the question often asked;
And I'll be quick to tell you,
"It all turned into gas."

*Lopid: a cholesterol lowering medication. 


Looking Back At Me

 by Joyce Guy

We are identical twins,
And I sure like what I see;
This beautiful mirror image
Looking lovingly back at me;

Such wonderfully expressive eyes
I have seldom seen;
With that little glint of mischief
Moiling in twin pools of green;

Hair so dark and lovely,
With its vibrant touch of red,
Exposed by every sun ray,
Like flames about her head;

Her form is trim and tidy,
Her clothes fit oh so fine,
She really looks quite fetching
In garb identical to mine.

She's loaded with personality,
And known for her quick wit:
She can be quite a puzzle,
But all the pieces fit.

What better friend and soul-mate
Could I ever hope to find
Than this absolutely flawless
Identical twin of mine.

I was never
able to see
myself as
pretty when
I looked
into a 
mirror, so
I wrote this
one to poke
fun at myself.
Most people
are average 
you know.
is over
valued in 



 by Joyce Guy

As the years pressed in upon me
And changed my life about
I*ve met the seasons gracefully
Of that I have no doubt.

I*ve caught the gentle husband
On whom my cap was set,
I*ve conquered many obstacles,
And challenges I have met.

My kids are grown into adults,
and all away from home.
I*ve seen so many places
That I once desired to roam.

Beloved pets have come and gone,
And filled a loving space,
I*ve long ago resigned
To my sagging, wrinkled face.

I move with slower gait,
No longer rush about
Love to stay at home more,
With much less in and out.

My goals have mostly all been met
With quite resolve and sap,
The most exciting thing now in my life
Is a long and restful nap.

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