I have always found humor the most difficult task in writing, whether prose or poetry, yet it probably should be part of any writer’s portfolio. The writer’s rule is to write what you know; therefore, I submit this as my best attempt to date. Calendar Girl is one of those organic poems with the iambs wandering all over the place, but somehow it feels right. I do not have he heart to change it.

Flickr photo by alexdroog70


by Mike Patrick

I was born a little challenged
In one area of my life.
I can’t remember important dates,
I depend upon my wife.

It doesn’t seem to matter
Which event, on the horizon hangs,
If it’s a calendar’s date,
I manage to forget the things.

Oh, I remember Christmas,
Our anniversary? Not so much.
And to recall any birthday
I always need a crutch.

My wife supplies me subtle hints
As gentle as a brick.
It only takes three or four
Sometimes to do the trick.

So it doesn’t really matter
What coming in this world.
I’ll always have the deepest need
For my lovely calendar girl.

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