"thingamajig" poems
I don't need a necktie-
I don't need a wallet-
I don't need a thingamajig-
or a whatchamacallit!
I have what I want,
a wonderful son, daughter-in-law,
and the two most powerful vitamins
known to mankind---my grandchildren.
AND, last, but not least, my "Guardian Angel",
Brie!(as in cheese)--(my cat!!! :):):)
for they make everyday, Father's Day!
copyright: richard riddle: June 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 6:08 AM UTC
MARY has a thingamajig clamped on her ears
And sits all day taking plugs out and sticking plugs in.
Flashes and flashes-voices and voices calling for ears to pour words in
Faces at the ends of wires asking for other faces at the ends of other wires:
All day taking plugs out and sticking plugs in,
Mary has a thingamajig clamped on her ears.
1.9k
I tried to write a lullaby
With a 70's theme of sorts
Kids drinking Sunny "D" in their jammies
Girls in Mindy, Boys in Mork
But that's as far as I could get
This dried up crinkly brain stays in a daze
So I picked up the phone, dialed up some friends
In hopes of a friendly Friday night game of charades
Of course Sylvester brought his Ouija board
He thinks with the other side he's in tune
I hate to break it to Houdini here
But I think he's inhaled to many fumes
My friends say that I'm just paranoid
Like a jester without a court
So I turn and apologize to Sylvester
Okay dude, pull out the board
We place our fingers on the Doohickey
Or is that the Thingamajig
Redrum, Redrum, Redrum, is all that it spells
As Sylvester has a fit
He knocks the game table over
And screams it's that movie, The Shining all over again
This is ****** spelled backwards people
As the smell of the dead blows in on the wind
In all of the dark spirit world excitement
I think I even pee'd myself
I suggest in a manly way with a wet spot on the front of my Bell Bottom jeans
That we put the Ouija board back up on the shelf
I really wasn't expecting an evening
Of doom and gloom and tombs and such
I think I'll go back to writing that 70's lullaby
If you don't mind...thank you very much
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
One day Frick when to the place to buy some stuff
While Frack stayed in the area to do some things
Frack tossed out some junk
He used the the whatchamacallit to clean the thingamajig
Pick up the odds and ends
And he scrubbed a doodad with the thingamabob
Frick purchesed some knickknacks and bric-a-brac
A few sundries
A couple of tchotkes and trinkets
Some whatnot
A gizmo
A gadget
And more miscellaneous paraphernalia
When Frick got home Frack asked "What'd you buy?"
Frick said " Oh, this and that" "What'd you do all day?"
Frack said "Just a hodgepodge of etcetera, etcetera"
-Tommy Johnson
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 7:46 PM UTC
Martha Maguire sits
in the back pew of the church
cigarette between fingers,
smoke drifting slowly
to the high beams and tiled roof,
her blue eyes focusing on the Crucified
His arms stretched wide
His head lowered
His eyes shut
the skimpy cloth
about His midriff
nails in hands and feet
and wound in the side
a slit of red paint revealed,
she takes a drag on the cigarette,
inhales deeply holds the cigarette
just away from her lips and
with no effort releases
the smoke in a steady stream
over the pew in front,
the Crucified's skin
has a yellowy sheen to it,
the crown of thorns have
acquired cobwebs and dust,
only her in the church
silence except for distant traffic,
Magdalene had talked
of the priest and one
of the nuns and some
kind of thing going on,
Martha muses
watching the smoke rise,
the young priest not the old codger,
which nun was it?
not St Agnes that's for sure
she'd only *** out of
her thingamajig,
as would most of the sisters
no doubt,
Sister Lucy was it?
maybe can't recall the gossip,
she inhales deeply again
scratches an itch
on her thigh,
Mary Moran and her ways
with the boys
and she only fourteen too
as am I,
she smiles recalling
what Mary said of Brian Brady
and what he tried to do
put your hand in some other
girl's private place not mine
she said she said,
the Crucified hangs in silence
not a word
not a judgement,
some days she's sure His head
lifts and He gazes at her
with an awkward smile,
His eyes half open
the **** thorns pushing
His hair over His eyes,
the door at the far end opens
and the young priest enters
in his black garb
like a young rook
on the prowl,
he genuflects
and makes the sign of the cross,
then peers down towards Martha
who hides her cigarette
out of sight,
the smoke drifting less so
but under the lower pews,
he looks away
goes to the altar
fiddles with things
goes to the tabernacle
and opens the door
and fiddles inside,
she looks at her cigarette,
lowers her head
and takes a swift inhalation,
then sits back up
gazes at the priest
**** arsing about,
the cigarette between fingers
out of sight,
and she thinking
if it was the priest and Sister Luke
and the carrying ons
and what and where if so,
anyway she muses
letting the smoke drift
from her lips
what do they know?
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 4:21 AM UTC
she kept it all from us
she kept it all well hide
but once we all found out
what she had and what it did
it popped all of our tops
blew off all our lids
no one could have even guessed
she has a thingamajig
we called the t.v. stations
we called up the cops
when we heard what she had
and how much that it cost
half the town said no way
the other half said it's a must
when we all sat down and saw
what it was and what it does
it brought us all together
it gave us all a lift
lovers, friends and neighbors
now never would they miss
every other saturday
with picnic basket and the kids
all head down to central park
and watch her with her thingamajig
with no need to start it up
it's always on the go
though it may seem odd at times
there's always an even flow
no one saw this coming
no one could have known
nor would they believe it
if they hadn't seen it on there own
it keeps breaking all the records
like it's nobody's biz
bringing together the left and right
where all they now do is hug and kiss
never in a million years
would i ever thought it'd come to this
and all because we all found out
she has a thingamajig
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 8:59 PM UTC
today i am but,
a rude mechanical thing
a wind up toy.
plodding along with whining gears
today i am but,
a fool's pawn to swing
a mere pendulum being,
arcing between
the sun and moon
today every thing is done
purely on muscle memory.....
....my thoughts...
.... are engaged elsewhere.
the only difficulty encountered.....
....they neglected to inform me
of their intended whereabouts
so now this is me,
a discombobulated, thingamajig
bought from Ikea, sans the allenkey, put together inexpertly, clunk-clunking
along, not right..a little bit wrong....clank- clunking on
by.
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 3:35 PM UTC
Lizbeth prepares for bed;
undresses, washes,
brushes teeth,
gets into bed
and turns off
the bedside lamp.
The moon light
coming through the window
makes an eerie feel
to her room.
What a waste of a day;
all dressed up
and out on her bike
to see Benedict
at the cottage.
He's gone out
with his father
to his father's work
in the woods,
his mother said,
I expect he''ll be collecting
bones and bird's eggs
and fossils in chalk.
Was he expecting you?
His mother asked.
No, Lizbeth had replied,
hiding her frustration
and anger, just came
on the off chance.
His mother said
she could come in
for a cup of tea and cake,
but Lizbeth declined
and rode back home again
in a foul four letter mood.
Then her own mother
had a go at her
about the state
of her room
and the leaving
of soiled linen everywhere
and last night's plate
and cutlery were
under your bed ,
she had moaned.
Lizbeth pulls the blanket
over her shoulder
and looks at the wall
by her bed.
She pretends he's there
beside her now;
imagines him
laying there
**** naked,
hand on her back,
his thingamajig
(she forgets
the name of it
in the book)
poking her belly;
him staring at her,
his hazel eyes
wide and ****
She closes her eyes;
pretends he's kissing her;
his hand along her thigh;
his lips hot and wet.
What would he say?
She asks herself,
imagining him
parting her legs
(she'd read that bit
in the book)
and her father's voice
says(on the landing
outside her room)
to her mother
(moody cow)
have you put out
the cat and locked
the back door?
The imagined Benny
has gone;
the space beside her
in bed now vacant.
Her eyes are open;
the moonlight
making patterns
on the wall
and now she can't
make love to him
at all.
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 3:32 AM UTC
Better don your leather chaps it's going to be a rough one
Pack extra roll caps into your Six Gun
Ask for double shots to compliment your Starbucks
All that's left now is to wish you good luck
Bring an extra pack of Bottle Rockets if you have them
Monkey wrench and needle nose pliers if you can find some
This could read as the last page to the final chapter
In what we anticipate as the Happily Ever After
Do all you can do to bring the water balloons
A cassette if you could of your favorite Show Tunes
Add extra sugar in your Slurpee from the 7-11
This ain't going to be easy is what I am guessing
Get a tight grip on your Thingamajig
Loosen the top on the Pickle jar lid
We're about to go through another life lesson
Which ain't nothing new if I was a man betting
Pack your bags for another day in the life
Extra padding would help for the bumpy ride
Think we've thunk of it all there's no more to say
We're now more than ready for another day
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 7:06 AM UTC
you know what sends me
close to the edge
all these people
with their thingamajigs
they really think they're something
mr. and mrs. big
all because
they have a thingamajig
walking around with
their heads held high
their thingamajig
right by their side
who are they trying to fool
or wanting to kid
we all know
about their thingamajig
it's hard to hide
after you've cracked open the lid
no way of denying
you've got a thingamajig
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 8:21 AM UTC
Problems can be small;
Problems can be big.
I'm having a problem
With my thingamajig.
Too much information,
Some might say.
But it's a kind of problem
You can't wish away.
When they are new,
They work like a dream.
Everything flows
In a steady stream.
But as they get older,
Like many things--I swear--
They start showing
A lot of wear and tear.
I'm sure you could
Make a funny quip;
But it isn't funny
When they start to drip.
One could try to stop
The dripping with one's hand.
But obviously,
It won't go as planned.
I often wonder what
Freud might have said.
The problem's not unique;
It's fairly widespread.
It really doesn't help
To squeeze it or strike it.
Where can I find
Another one just like it?
There HAS to be someone
Who could repair it.
Or do I have to
Simply grin and bear it?
I can't ignore the problem;
It won't disappear.
A LEAKY FAUCET is
A pain in the rear!
- by Bob B (3-18-17)
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 9:56 AM UTC