Owl Warning

I read an article today

Said Oregon’s capital was to start posting warning signs in a park

Runners have reported attacks from an angry owl

Find somewhere else to spend the money

Find something else (useful) to post

Find somewhere else to run

And leave the bitchy bird alone

Remember, people

That’s HIS home

Not yours

You’re just a guest…

© Dicky J Loweman 2015



Sister Madly Stole Our Corkscrew

There is never a corkscrew when we need one

I checked every drawer in this small kitchen


I’ve come up short

When I ask her if she knows

As to the whereabouts of said missing corkscrew

“It must be where you left it”

She is often of no help

Certainly, when it comes to the corkscrew

“You opened the wine last, try to remember where you left it”, she chimes in

From deep in her comfortable seat

Behind her magazine about beautiful women and their styles

“Thank you”, I manage “And thank you, again”

I’m certainly better at sarcasm

Than remembering where I left the corkscrew

“Can you picture it, the corkscrew you’re looking for?”

“Yeah, I can picture it.  It has a black handle.  And the last time I saw it, it was stuck in Sister Madly’s wall.”

“Well, ok then.  Look there…”

“Wait, where?  Who?”

“Nevermind”, I whisper

And continue on checking

All the same drawers

I’ve already looked in

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

Dear Mailman

Dear mailman, postal carrier, deliverer of mail, over-stuffing mailbox fuck, whatever it is you’re         called these days:

Please stop filling my mailbox with all this useless crap.  I didn’t ask for it, nor do I want it.  I have no “plus size” ladies living with me, so I have no further need for their catalogs.  Nevermind all the political jargon.  I already know who I’ll vote for.  And the coupons.  Stop with all the fucking coupons.  I never once opened one of your Valu-Paks.  Somewhere there’s a tree which could have been saved.

Also take note, please, as to the size of my mailbox.  miniscule in stature.  Last Wednesday you lovingly jammed all my mail and four catalogs in there.  That’s a feat unto itself.  That’s a quality I wish you would lose.  I successfully scraped each knuckle on my right hand, and didn’t come away with even half of my mail.

Now, please don’t get me wrong.  I appreciate all you do for me.  God knows I would lose sleep, if you didn’t bring me all those bills to pay.  And every year, at Christmas time, I leave you a nice “thank you” card, complete with a fresh and crisp Jackson.  So humor me, and stop all of this madness.


Dicky J Loweman

p.s.  On a positive note, just think how much lighter your haul would be.  That’s less to carry around and more room for your vodka I see you pouring, when you think no one’s watching.

Number 5 from Muses and Other Gauche Thoughts