Just Four Friggin’ Lines #8


Just Four Friggin’ Lines is a dailyworkweekpretty random, mostly reliable series for people who have the attention span of a goldfish with Alzheimer’s. People who have to cram their verse in between tweezing and waxing. Or mowing, as the case may be. There’s no judgment here; after all, it’s Just Four Friggin’ Lines. You and your monobrow are welcome.

Read, enjoy, share and contribute your own four-liner in the Comments below. I triple dog dare you. Do it or I’ll give you a noogie. C’mon, it’s Just Four Friggin’ Lines!

Follow Miss Snarky Pants on Instagram at dinsworth or on Twitter @CristyCLewis.

Just Four Friggin’ Lines #6 – The Trump Edition


Just Four Friggin’ Lines is a poetry series by Miss Snarky Pants devoted to people who prefer to read Donald Trump’s speech – announcing his run for the presidency – on the toilet. Now before you say, Hey, wait a minute! That’s not Just Four Friggin’ Lines, please note that I never indicated how long the lines would be. Details, folks.

Exceptions must be made for exceptional people like Donald Trump. I admit, the third line is a tad long, – okay, it’s Allen Ginsburg’s Howl long – but how else could I fully encapsulate in verse, a candidate who, whilst humble and well-coiffed, is a loquacious man. A garrulous fellow. Let’s face it, he wouldn’t shut up. Miss Snarky Pants has condensed the highlights, low blows and bold-faced bigotry into Just Four Friggin’ Lines #6 – The Trump Edition.

Groucho Marx once quipped, Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it everywhere, diagnosing it incorrectly and applying the wrong remedies – a philosophy which Trump has clearly taken to heart. Along with unfiltered braggadocio, unfettered by pesky things like logic and facts. And the kind of aplomb reserved exclusively for narcissistic sociopaths. 

Enjoy! And don’t forget to wash your hands when you’re finished. Seriously, don’t.

Just Four Friggin’ Lines #5


Just Four Friggin’ Lines is a poetry series for people who insist on listening with their eyes. And in honor of those who scribble verses like sleezy phone numbers on their palms and wrists, I bleed Just Four Friggin’ Lines of ink. Are you hemorrhaging words? Share your four lines in the Comments below and stop spurting all over your keyboard.

Just Four Friggin’ Lines #4


Just Four Friggin’ Lines is a new poetry series by Miss Snarky Pants – okay, it’s the only poetry series, unless you count my Big Bang Theory Haiku – written especially for people who like their poetry the way they like their flu shots: fast and painless. This might not be Shakespeare, but it’s Just Four Friggin’ Lines


Just Four Friggin’ Lines #3


This is the third installment of Miss Snarky Pants’ new, daily poetry series, Just Four Friggin’ Lines, written especially for you who get your poetry thang on while waiting at traffic lights. Read, enjoy, follow, share and contribute in the Comments Section below – particularly if you have a four-liner you’d like to pass along. After all, it’s Just Four Friggin’ Lines.  C’mon, there were more words on the back of that cereal box you read this morning. This is poetry. It’s way cooler to say, “I read an interesting poem at that long light on Tampa Avenue,” than “I know how many calories are in a serving of Frosted Flakes.” And it’s Just Four Friggin’ Lines!

Just Four Friggin’ Lines #2



Just Four Friggin’ Lines is a new daily, poetry series penned by Miss Snarky Pants. Afraid to make a commitment or intimidated by sonnets that have the nerve to go on for fourteen lines? That’s not an issue here – because it’s Just Four Friggin’ Lines!

Go ahead; follow me. Leading is exhausting, isn’t it? Take a break. It’s Just Four Friggin’ Lines.


If you prefer your low-commitment verse on Instagram, check MSP out @dinsworth.


Just Four Friggin’ Lines #1




Just Four Friggin’ Lines is a new poetry series I’m writing for the lovely people who don’t have time to read my longer humorous, satirical, political or just-plain-indulgent-and-confessional posts. It’s poetry. Written in less than a few minutes, then printed out and photographed – so you know I didn’t come back and tinker with it later. It’s not meant to change the world or even be any good. The poems may be serious, funny, observational, lyrical, raw or bleak. But it’s my way of saying hello and, most importantly, it’s Just Four Friggin’ Lines.

This is number one.

Follow…so you don’t miss out.


Miss Snarky Pants is – usually- a humor and satire blog. Apparently, we’re branching into poetry, for no apparent reason. Deal with it. It’s JUST FOUR FRIGGIN’ LINES.



A Stupid Butterfly Poem


Monarch New York Times


A Stupid Butterfly Poem


Clipped between the window pane

and the screen,

two monarch wings

lay at wicked angles,

dusted with the world that passed

since they last beat

beat   beat   beat   beat   beat   beat   beat.

Against the scraping mesh.

Against the July-baked glass.

Against the sun.


I wondered how it happened,

how this fluttering wisp was trapped,

a cage on one side,

an impenetrable wall on the other.

Did its heart pound with more ferocity

than the slamming of its body –


its spindly, black legs as useless as dangling threads,

against its invisible warden.

Was it an unintended kidnapping,

or did some brute chortle,

watching the aching wings slam against the hot screen?


My disappointment in Humanity hung

about me,

thick and heavy as the humidity.

It was then that I noticed the screen

gaping away from the window.

Only inches of freedom to me, but acres to one

who fits in my palm.


Stupid butterfly.


Miss Snarky Pants


If you enjoyed this blog post, you might also like these:

Procrastination in the Form of a Cat Poem

Setting the Snark Aside

Big Bang Theory Haiku

The World’s Worst Sonnet About a Dead Dog Ever


Copyright 2014 by C.C.L. and Miss Snarky Pants.  All rights reserved. This is my poem. I wrote it. It is my property. Do not reproduce without my written consent or I will write a stupid poem about you and how you steal stupid poems. 

If Sheldon Cooper Wrote Haiku

The Pain of an Engineer Amongst Ph.Ds
The Pain Of A Lowly Engineer

The condescension

oh, Sheldon, stabs the meek heart

in this engineer

Howard Wolowitz

Leonard Driving...As Usual
Leonard Driving…As Usual

Einstein bled physics,

Newton unlocked gravity,

Sheldon still can’t drive

Leonard Hofstadter

Grasshopper, You Are The One True God!

Grasshopper, You Are The One True God!

Grasshopper of strength,

may your mint milk inspire words,

ones spoken aloud

Raj Koothrappali

The Russians Love Me!
The Russians Love Me!

Howard went to space,

whining like a transmission

needing a tune-up

Sheldon Cooper

Run, Priya! Run!
Run, Priya! Run!

Fuck haiku, Priya.

Come near Leonard again, bitch,

I’ll cut you like grass


amy and sheldon kissing

Oh, Sheldon Cooper,

your chastity belt chafes raw

my unshaven loins

Amy Farrah Fowler

Courtesy of thecomicking.net
Courtesy of thecomicking.net

Your MeMa may live,

my bearded Wesley Crusher.

Still, I scream, “Wheaton!”

Sheldon Cooper

big bang elevatorGeniuses upstairs

make space toilets work, but not

the elevator

Mrs. Gunderson (downstairs neighbor)


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