The Ol' Snippety-Snip

Amos the kitty was absent last night,
A-gittin' his testicles "done."
Seems he was fightin' and comin' up short;
Well now he just won't have a son.

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We had to take him in for the second time in just over a month for a wound that left him unable to put weight on a leg.  The vet told me that the ol' snippety-snip should take care of the fighting thing, so Amos is "gittin' 'er done."

The intention was to spend no money on this cat.  It seems I am a weak-willed softie.  So help me, if he wants cosmetic surgery I will say NO!

Implicit: (Potent Toots)

When baby don't poop

Ain't nobody happy.

Talking Dogs

A pig says "oink";
That's all he'll say
And every horse
Knows only "neigh."
Consider ducks
Who "quack" each day
Or cows as well,
On "moo" they'll stay.

But dogs have depth,
A repertoire,
Myriad ways
To speak with pow'r.
Dogs "bow wow;"
They "arf" and "bark."
They often "howl."
When it gets dark.
Dogs, at times
As is their wont,
"Growl" at folks
A canine taunt.
Finally, when
Contentment's here,
Dogs say "woof"
And scratch their ear.

Bony and Nervous

The nervous squirrel, he looked at me,
Then skittered up a nearby tree.
He paused a sec, and looked back down.
I thought a saw a furry frown!
"Go on," I said, "You've naught to fear.
You're far too thin.  I fancy deer."

Your Humble Poet Laureate

Perhaps I should mention that the newly elected mayor has just named me Poet Laureate of The MOB.  What is the MOB?  It is the Minnesota Organization of Bloggers.  (Technically I now live in Iowa, but rules aren't stringent.)  In the wake of twitter and other e-fads, the MOB isn't what it once was, but it still is a means for bringing folks together and I like that.

Is this a great honor?  Why yes, of course it is!  And it is also pure tomfoolery of the best sort.  In that spirit, I will have to write some laud or ode to the Mayor.  But not today.  This prose just takes it out of me.

Beware Grandmothers Bearing Sleds

My son was a-sliding this morning
Upon the slick crust of the snow.
He got a strong push from his grandmim
And into the flagpole did go.
It's alright, his head wasn't broken,
Just badly bruised on both sides.
She says she is sad,
(Though she's quite clearly bad,)
And is itching to give him more rides.

Narcissism

The beautiful sunrise I missed
Was boring as boring can be
For I didn't see a darn thing
And really it's all about me.

Angels

When a bell rings
It might be a number of things:
Someone's at the door,
A boxer's on the floor.
An angel got her wings?
Well really, that's a bore.
Sure, some angels fly
Like those who flew in Luke,
But what of all the others?
This thing must be rebuked.
Wings and angels go together
Like Indians and feathers.
Some have 'em; okay that's great.
Others don't, and are still first rate.

Bah

The humbug is the insect

Of the body politic.

"Ha, ha, ha," he explained.

In he swooped with reckless wind,
Old man winter living large.
Asked by many to rescind,
He just laughed.  They said "Argh."

Don't Taunt the Winter

Old man winter wasn't dead
But lying quietly in bed.
Now he's roused and eating brunch.
Next he comes for you for lunch.

Abigail and Esther

In the space of twelve hours a birth and a death,
The giving of life and the taking of breath,
Joy in the wonder that's finally beheld,
And grief that one loved will now be withheld.

The Snow of Stereotype

On the Midwestern plains a light dusting of snow

Does stereotypical things: it swirls and blows.

Rarely does it rise up and smack you on the face

Nor play poker with the dawn, trumping with aces.

It's rather like an old school character actor;

Predictably playing his role, not much of a factor.

Historic Nursery Rhymes

This little piggy went to market

This little piggy stayed home.

This little piggy liked Carthage.

And this little piggy liked Rome.

And this little piggy went, "Gah!  Alaric and his barbarian invaders!!!"

Abigail Rose (born 1/14/12)

The first one came, a lumbering boy,
Who had no hurry in his bones.
One day crossed o'er into the next
And then another he condoned.

This baby girl now born today
Came thund'ring fast, her mission clear.
Her mother gasped, and cried aloud
For there she was, our daughter dear.

An Exhortation

Ahem.

Socks are best when worn in twos

So take good care you do not lose

Them.

Walnut

A walnut is an unstately thing,
Awkward and hemispheric
Like a small, edible brain.
Care for some walnut?

Many Ways to Wait

Wait
Wate
Ouate
Wayte
Ouayte
Whaite
Whate
Waite
Wheyte
Wheytte
Waitte
Ouaitte
Ad almost infinitum (it seems)

Compare and Contrast

Apricots
Tasty and orange
Always dried
-
Oranges
Tasty and orange
Never dried

Human folk
Creation of God
Very good
-
Human folk
Creation of God
Big stinkers

Fly-ku

Dormant or dead flies

Don't buzz around nor pester.

Long live Wintertime!

Some Days the Tired Just Catches Up

Fatigue had found him from far-flung places
Heavy burdens bearing down
Like big-boned monkeys lacking social graces
All of them out on the town.
What weariness - winsome clubbing of his head.
Sighs descended from his lips and fled.

Unitary Seasons

There's Summer this Winter;

There's spring in my toes.

And if there were water

It wouldn't be froze.

Lacking this ice

I'm unlikely to fall.

And mostly I'm thinking,

"This ain't bad at all."

The Twelfth Day of Christmas

John Bonham
Keith Moon
Nick Mason
Ringo Starr
Charlie Watts
Ollie Peacock

To find a dozen drummers drumming
Don't go looking in my mind.
I can only conjure six,
That's halfway there.  Who more to find?

I give up.

The Eleventh Day of Christmas (A Carpenter's Envy)

Back on the job site

Winter days would break my skin

Howling winds would slip right in

Whether dark or light

All the carpenters 

Bundled to keep the frost off

Hands cracking, painfully rough

Break time 'round heaters

Walls and roof complete

In walk comfy pipefitters

No need for jacket critters

Now ain't that a feat?

Pipers in leisure

Happy and deliberate

Lacking much -if any- grit

Their work all pleasure

The Tenth Day of Christmas

The census in this fair country

Reveals a total lack of lords,

Dancing or otherwise.

Christian confession yields but one, 

Arisen.  Again to arise.

The Ninth Day of Christmas

When Esther and Mildred and Gertie and Fran
Have all their sights on the hand of one man
Chaos ensues on the floor of the ball
Punches are thrown and the police are called.
These ladies, dancing, all elbows and knees
Are jealous as wildcats, but eager to please
Wishing to polka and two-step and twist
Looking for gentlemen them to assist.

The Eighth Day of Christmas

Cows these days have it rough.

Once there were maids to empty their udders,

But now just machines, cold and tough.

No doubt, in darkest cow dreams, there are shudders.