The kids are grown. I'm living alone! Peace and quiet, right?

You'd think that would be the case. Think again! So much for "My EmptiNesst", or "Solitude", or any other poem I've written about being by myself. I concede!

Mowing the lawn is one of my least favorite things to do with my time. I'd rather write a poem about it (rationalizing, of course). Since this writing, under protest, I have been forced to mow my yard.

Never fear, however, those stalwart dandelions are returning.

I love my children. They are the "Sunshine of my Life". It's so exhilarating to nurture them and to see them grow into fine young adults, isn't it? Of course, there are always those "special" stories from their childhood days. We remember vividly, and we tell the story, time and time again. This is one of those stories . . . and, I promise . . . There isn't one iota of exaggeration here. Every bit of it is true! ! ! !

My basement has a tendency to go from a state of pseudo-clean to a dank, dingy, deluge of debris in what seems like a matter of moments.

What happens down there, anyway? I don't spend any time there. Who's making that great big mess? I've been thinking about sending out the "Cellar Dweller" Patrol to resolve it once and for all.

Does anyone really like to do that dreaded cleaning in their basement? Doesn't it always seem like there's got to be some sort of malevolent force deterring us from ever completing the job? Well, perhaps we just need to see things from a new perspective - with a little levity.

I love to do my errands as quickly and efficiently as possible. If I could do everything without ever having to get out of the car - I would.

I thought about all the things we can accomplish from the comfort of our drivers' seats - it's just too bad I don't have ALL of them here in my town.

Maybe I'll find a place that has them all - and move.

Just a funny perception on the stages of life.

The inspiration for this poem ought to be fairly self- explanatory. My family thought my poetry was too depressing and wondered if I could attempt to write something in a humorous vein. I tried.

Some poems are not for the weak of heart. Please read at your own risk the perilous adventures encountered in this epic journey.

We all like to rationalize away our problems, or the reasons we do things we know we ought not. Plus, this one might help remove the sting of unemployment.

Nothing is as surprising as the discovery of the Chastity Belt. Whoever invented that should be flogged, dipped in Gravy Train, and thrown to a pack of rabid poodles.