My Printer

The light blinks sometimes and little noises
Peep, pop, and burble; the ink well gurgles,
But nothing ever comes of it.  Ruses
By a dusty old printer.  Impotent.
Like some swingin' guy in a sports car,
"Hey babe," but having no horsepower.
My printer sits and can only hint.
Enough.  This is ridiculous.  Get bent.
That's right.  Let go of the cords and get out.
Your fizzling, tittering plastic's been sent.

Write About Things You Don't Know (Possibilities)

How does one write a fine wedding sermon?
What do you do when you're beset by vermin?
When storm clouds are brooding like doom on the land
Is it better to charge or better to stand?
Where can one go to get sleds in the Spring?
What kind of salad do you think I should bring?

Write About Things You Know

Wafting odors on the air,
Hitting me from everywhere,
From the pig farm down the road
From the baby's rear end load.

Christopher

Once upon a time,
I was spending time with my nephew.
We were hangin', as it were.
And there was this little girl who walked up,
Demurely,
And grabbed my wallet!
She ran away with all haste.
Given my advanced age,
I cried out for my nephew's help.
"Chris, stop her!!

Andrew

My nephew is a boarder
He rides around on wheels.
And when he does a trick on it
The little chiquas squeal.
Then he blushes reddish
And falls flat on his face.
Better not to skate for girls
If y' wanna keep some grace.

The Dark Side of the Lawn

When squirrels run rampant
All over the lawn,
Those gray mafiosi
All under the don
Who tells them to kneecap
The chipmunks and birds,
Directs them to fill up
Their nests with cow turds;
Then goodness is dormant
And sunshine is gone,
Cursed by the greed
Of the mafia don,
That nasty old squirrel
Who rules over the lawn.

On the Nature of Attaining to Poetic Excellence

To write a good poem is magic.

To craft a fine verse is a joy.

Well chosen rhymes in a meter that flows

Are... dagnabbit... like low fat soy?

I'll always be glad for my wisdom

In setting the bar on the ground.

For very poor poems 'bout nuthin' at all

Are the only ones, bless 'em, I've found.

After Dinner Poetry (an idea whose time has come)

I cooked you dinner.
It won't make you thinner.
I think it's a winner.
Give me props or I'll kick you in the shinner.

writer and cook: Tiger Lily
last line written by WBP

Curtains

There's a curtain of rough, tan fabric,
Just beyond the screen, shielding the sun,
Shot through with darker thread for texture,
Two pieces, but drawn together as one.
No one could ever make a dress
Of such a thing as this.  Too rough,
No delicacy. No floral print. 
Just rugged, brown, sun-cutting stuff.

Classics of Poetry

I think that it would be nice to feature some classic poems here every once in awhile.  It should help all us appreciate some of the finer aspects of verse to which I just can't attain.  We'll start with a modern classic by my wife.  It is a snappy couplet, strong on brevity and unvarnished honesty.

Holy crap.

I need a nap.

Join us next time on Classics of Poetry when we will savor the beauty of Wordsworth.

Upon Reflection

I was going through old CDs and they sure can bring back memories.  The one that I'm listening to right now (and which inspires this poem) is Green Day's American Idiot.  One of the things that I remember is how much I identified with it all, thinking it authentic, if not exactly wise.  I think you'll find it terrible.  The  poem, the lifestyle, the worldview.  Just utter crap.  (The music is still enticing, though.)

A thumping drum,

A sucking thumb,

A coke and rum.

There.  You're a bum.

Noodlings on Sight and Necessity

What a foolish bird it is
Who flies into the window pane!
He breaks his neck for want of care
He ends his life for lack of brain.

Or is really quite so neat?
Is 'foolish' really 'lack of sight'?
The thing that killed him wasn't there
Until the bruise brought on the night.

He was winging as his wont
Bound to fly within his ease
Hurtling t'wards an end of ends
As surely's from a dread disease.

Thoughts on a Funeral Day

In the grave we lay her down
Beside her husband and her child;
It's been so many years since last
This earth was turned for welcoming.

The child went first at just one day,
A boy who knew not dad nor mom.
His dad came first and now today
His mother comes at last to say,
"I've missed you all these years and cry
Never having seen your smile.
But tears today are full of joy
For finally I meet my child."

Just a Thought

I wanna have a baby
Wanna name her Jack,
Take that baby all around
Both yonder and back,
Dress her up in pigtails
And a pair of bibs,
Teach her all 'bout honor,
Not to tell no fibs.
We'll both shoot some squirrels
With our BB gun
And then we'll eat fried chicken
Til we weigh a ton.

Jungle Wine

The fruit of the vine is the grape.
The beast of the jungle, the ape.
Thus, jungle wine
Is served in a stein
And throws you about by the nape.

The Graveyard Next Door

Just east there's a bunch of the dead

Quietly lying in bed.

The dirt is quite firm,

With complimentary worm,

A veritable graveyard Club Med.

The Coffee Cup

A coffee cup
With a stained interior
And dribbles down the side,
With some advertisement or image
Stamped on the side like a tattoo,
This is the substance of the morning hours.
Well, that and the coffee itself, of course.

Elegance never seems a part of it,
Would seem out of place somehow.
The graceful curve of a china cup
Would meet too many clumsy bulls
In those morning hours.
Chips and cracks wouldn't delay.
The fog of it all would cause an accident.

A Tractor

As a little boy

I had a tractor. 

I "thppppppddd" that tractor

'Round the floor

And planted the carpet with seed.

Now in my thirties

I rode in a tractor.

It churned along

And lo and behold

The field was planted with seed.

One day, maybe,

I'll drive a tractor.

I'll steer it with both arms

And keep to the middle of the field

Strewing seed hither and yon
(And not crashing!)

Supper for the Babe and by the Babe

Take a carrot, cut 'er up
Add an apple, "Hey wassup?"
Add some celery and see
You've made dinner handsomely!

Ceilings

Why are ceilings textured?

Who is it that cares?

I'd like to see a smooth one

If anybody dares.

Smooth and painted orange

With yellow polka dots.

Or royal blue with pinstripes?

Depends who calls the shots.

Just the Facts, Ma'am

Bin Laden is dead.
To Allah he's fled.
I'm going to bed.

Let Us Call this Poem, Bacon.

On the eve of the morning all people proclaim,
"Bacon!  All laud the bacon!"
When morning has come and it's time for the game,
"Bacon!  Gimme the bacon!"
When the breakfast is over and the morning chugs on,
"Bacon!  Must needs more bacon!"
If you need some salt meat over which you must fawn,
"Bacon!  You need the bacon!"

The Dark and Gloomy Days of mid-Spring

When the sun plays coy and stays away,
When the clouds are all you get today,
When the misty air and sodden ground,
The all pervasive damp and gray,
When all this mournful litany
Of Weather Channelicity
Starts to wear and grind you down
It's best to just stop.  Drink some tea.
Sing a song about felicity.
Pound your pillow with your knee.
Growl so deep you lose your frown.
And wait for sunshine to be found.

It's a Good Thing This Place Is For Lousy Poems

I am in a funk.
The poems are all junk.
Whaddya think, punk?
"Yer reputation's sunk."

That's not too keen,
But I'm not green.
Don't care if you're mean
Or the poems obscene.

I'll soldier on
Like ol' Ghengis Khan
Destroying verses, man.
That be the plan.

Civilization

The baby farts.  "What?"
Babies know no shame.
Little animals
For us to tame.
Farting is fine
As far as it goes,
But it leaves the baby
With smelly clothes.

Uh-oh

The gears of the car go ka-chunk, ka-chunk,
ka-chunk, ka-chunk,
ka-chunk, ka-chunk.
The gears of the car go ka-chunk, ka-chunk
Every time I drive.

We're taking it to the mechanic.

Monday Thursday?

Confusion reigns at Eastertime
Or just some days before.
The Christians call that Thursday Monday.
I'd call that logic poor.

Earth Day Celebration Extravaganza!

Earth Day is coming
I've got to prepare!
Never mind fire.
Never mind air.
Never mind water.
I want to be clear.
They just don't matter;
It's earth that is dear!
So burn down the forests;
Dump crap in the sea;
Fill in the wetlands
With dirt, you see!
Gravel is lovely
And worthy of praise.
I'll roll on the ground
For the rest of my days.

(Just for the record, environmental degradation is bad.  I don't actually support destroying the earth.  I do, however, support poking fun at environmentalists.  Also, this post is not meant to a nuanced argument of any sort.  It is a lousy poem based on two meanings of the word "earth."  Also, the earth doesn't need a special day.  Unless you want to celebrate its birthday.  Would that be creationist?  It's all very confusing.  This is why I just write lousy poems.  They are easier than trying to explain yourself to people with wide-ranging assumptions.)

Marriage Traditions (with grammatical hitch in its giddyup)

Something old,
Something new,
Something borrowed,
Something blue,
With a shotgun,
By and by,
Lets get married,
You and I.

Absolute Gibberish

Carpet or linoleum?
Synthesis or pure?
Would you rather be John Glenn
Or that old guy John Muir?
Gravel roads or black top?
Well done steak or rare?
What is better for your heart
Love or the state fair?
All these silly questions
Posed without a thought.
Sometimes wonder slaps my head
And says, "What have you wrought?

Weather

The wet and the wind
Are like Scotland these days;
I'm hoping the chill
Is but a short phase.

The Electric Toothbrush

It turns; oh it whirls!
It attracts all the girls
'Cause my teeth get so white;
I'm forced to take flight!

Birdsong

What sweet songs enliven
The air out my window
When only I open
And let that air in.

My window's a lever
That calls forth by magic
A soundtrack of nature
By medium of wind.

Dulcet and friendly,
A soft invitation,
A kindly reminder
To let loose and grin.

Will Durant

Will Durant was talking one day
Bout ancient folk who have gone away,
Propounding his philosophay
Dearest Will, I don't buy what you say.

Will Durant wrote the epic "Story of Civilization in eleven volumes.  I first saw it at my grandparents home and was taken in by it.  Having no hope to inherit, I pieced together the volumes over a few years and now enjoy it in my own home.  I once thought history was simply recorded fact.  In reading Durant again I am reminded of how much of it is simply opinion.  Very interesting in any event.

Buy-ku

Good books grow on trees,
In a manner of speaking.
I shall buy them all.

...At Least I Hope Not

There's a man on a tractor
Who's out in the field
Spreading some odor
To increase his yield.
The smell in the wind
Is approaching eleven.
It ain't quite the smell
We'll be smelling in heaven.

Shots

The baby got a stick today
Right there above his knees,
Purportedly to keep him safe
From sickness and disease.
He cried out loud with clear disgust,
"Et tu Brute? You slug!"
But he's just fine and later on
No doubt he'll eat a bug.

The Challenge of the Day

When I have a cup of coffee in the morning
Just as rays begin to make their way
Through the slats of my venetian kitchen,
Or at least the blinds are I-Tie anyway,
I ponder things that I will soon be doing
And hope that they will turn out for the best.
I'll make my way through every bloomin' challenge
And collapse in bed by midnight to get rest.

Pining for Summer

The county fair isn't for ages, but something has me in a mind for it.

Are you going to the county fair?
Ice cream, corn, some piggies and sheep?
Remember cash with which to get fat.
Vittles are a true love of mine.

Ioway

The rolling hills of Ioway
Are likely for awhile to stay
Til soil erosion wipes away
The rolling hills of Ioway.

The corn in fields of Ioway
Is never ever going to stay
'Cause pigs and folks will eat one day
The corn in fields of Ioway.

Fly Tape (a reflection in brief prose)

We once visited a farm. 
The farm had flies. 
Many, many flies. 
I blame the cows. 
And their... you know. 
We had had enough. 
We bought fly tape. 
And hung it. 
The flies were curious. 
"What is this hanging thing? 
Sure smells good!" 
And they landed. 
Big mistake. 
"We are stuck!"
Yes, they were stuck.
Tape is sticky.
My cousin was there.
He and I counted the flies.
Their misfortune was fun.
It's okay.
They were only flies.

Oh Susanna (take two)

I've been out of Dodge for the past eight days, leaving just a few poems to pop up from time to time.  I'm glad to be back.  Here's my explanation:

I come from Minnesota

With my baby on my knee

I'm going to Arizona,

My grandma for to see

It snowed all night

The day I left

The weather it was dry

The clouds so thick,

I saw so clear

Susanna, don't you cry

Oh, Susanna,

Oh don't you cry for me

For I come from Minnesota

With my baby on my knee

The Baby Smells

When changing the butt of my baby
I noticed an odor so foul.
In spite of myself, my belly did hurt
And distress ruled the roost in my bowel.
Good gracious, what has he been eating?
Old cabbages stuffed in a fish?
We'd better give him some pleasanter things
Like pot pourri out of a dish.

Thai-ku

What makes a hard man
Humble?  One night in Bangkok.
Quick humility.

Man's Best Friend?

I had a dog named Fido
He wasn't very nice.
Maybe 'cuz of flatulence
Or maybe 'cuz of lice.
Every day he'd growl,
Menacing and low.
Then he'd scratch his flea-bit ears
And pass some wind below.

Gravel (A poem that is brutally lousy... on purpose.)

What is gravel
But some rock bits
Tossed about like...
Uh... bits of rock?

What is beach sand
But some teeny
Weeny Little
Tiny, uh... rock?

Renaming

What would a waist curtain be?
But a skirt that goes down past your knee!
And a sweater that hangs on your wrist?
Is a mitten that warms up your fist!
A head sock, it is quite clear to most,
Is worn to make craniums toast.
And windows that sit on your nose?
With blinds that restrict where light goes?
And protection from UV ray blows?
Are sunglasses, as everyone knows!

Scandinavian Limerick

There once was a poem from Sweden
Which had all the rhymes it was needin'.
Except at the end
For when it did wend
To the end it had nothing to rhyme with.

The Morning

Fog in the morning

Covering the gravestones

Frosting up the pine trees

Bringing down the sky.

Wind, somewhat later

Mixing with the sunshine

Burning off the low clouds;

Blowing them away.

The Temptation to Choose

Pleasure or certainty, darkness or light,

Apples or oranges, safety or fright,

These are the things that will tempt us at night.

Caring for others and wanting the right,

Shrinking from others, the lonely one's plight,

Tempting to stand fast and tempting to flight.

Make some decisions; they're all black and white.

Grasp indecision; the choices are blight.

Choose to set free?  Or choose to indict?  

"Life is but choices," the thinking one might

Start to conclude, in his thoughts, erudite,

But that would be hopelessly, foolishly trite.

Temptation would have us believe that we choose,

Sifting our options to win or to lose,

Autonomous selves lost in Kantian muse. 

What self-absorbed twaddle!  What bile! What hell!

Hopeless Pavlovians, slaves to the bell. 

Bound to decide, and choose poorly as well.

"Who will rescue me from this body of death?"

Crush

Crush some garlic; crush a bug
Crush the tyrant; he's a thug.
Crush the grapes to make some wine
"Crush", a soda that's just fine.
Crush, the shallow love of youth.
Crush, a job assigned your tooth.
Crush a beetle, though it stinks;
Crush a cockroach if it winks;
Crush the bugs that eat the crop;
Crush a union; make it pop!

What Do You Get When You Go There?

I went to the store to get some milk,
But instead I got a cow.
I went to the Left to get some peace,
But instead I got a row.
I went down south for to get some heat,
But I ended up with stroke.
I went to the bank to get some cash
Then I ended up quite broke.
I half expect if I go to church
That I'll end up all abased.
I'd rather go to receive my Lord
And to get well and truly graced.

Seeming Non Sequiturs (Rhymeless and Proud)

There's carpet under my feet.

Not quite shag, but plenty comfy

And less orange.

There's a ladybug flying about

Off in the other room.

Seems to like the light.

And that's what passes

For my self-reflection these days.

Thank God.

Streaking

John, from A View from Behind the Curtain, writes a poem about streaks today.  Naughty man that I am, I couldn't help but think of "streaking."  Here is my offering on the matter.

The suddenly nude man

Galloped across the turf

Like a wee, tiny horse.

That poets wrote poems

Besmirching his manhood

Goes without saying, of course.

Stand Back. I'm Going to Try Science!

He looks out the window and what does he see?
Five thousand molecules begging to be
Free from electrons or protons or... what?
Science confuses and makes ill his gut.
Better to live in impeccable dark
Than talk about science and jump some dumb shark quark.

Be Nice to Stray Monkeys

When monkeys are romping
All over your rooftop
It's better to ponder
Than flip out and yell.
I know this for certain
Cause one of my buddies
Just busted a gasket
Then a poor monkey fell.

Why-ku?

Belly button rings.

Safety-belt legislation.

Rosie O'Donnell.

The Birds

The collegial birds are determined.
By the side of the road they shall meet.
Shoulder side chit chats are better by far
Than any mid-field meet and greet.
What they're discussing I'm not certain
It might be the snow in the West.
But when I draw near, they fly off in fear.
It appears I'm a pest not a guest!

A Fairytale

Once upon a time, in a land far away...

There lived a baby who cried when it was nap time.  It could not be said that the baby was a generally ill-tempered thing incapable of sleep for, come evening time, he resembled a log which had been hit over the head with a soporific stick with lead inlay.  That is to say, at the right time he could sleep just fine.  But in the afternoon he mounted resolutely on his soap box and preached hellfire and brimstone to the ones who had put him in such a predicament.  "You'll all be made to suffer!" he cried out with such force that his throat grew ragged, lending yet more pathos to the whole presentation.  Nevertheless, his parents ignored his dire threats, not moved by "decibel" blackmail and unwilling to negotiate with terrorists.  And then the cute little brute fell asleep.

The End.

A Conversation

"That's one fine dining table" the man said,
"'Though it might be nice with a coat of red
Paint to really make 'er pop and warm up."
"Why thank you kindly old codger.  A pup
Like me needs some winsome words of wisdom
To counteract all that prattling pablum
One hears these days.  And advice on paint?  Why
That's just perfect for someone who can't spy
The difference between brown and green.  Or so
Says my wife at any rate!  Say hello
To your own, by the way.  She is a fine
Woman, your wife.  Her radiance makes you shine!"
"Duly noted, Pastor.  And you are quite
Right.  Surely she's a right beautiful light."

Cancellation Due to Freezing Rain

Slick and slippery
Rain on the road,
Calling off church,
Staying in our abode.
None to happy
But it's better than "Crash!
Dust to dust
And ash to ash."

The Ugliness of the Inward Gaze

To look inward
Is to slowly rot.
Self-absorption
Bathes in nasal snot.
Thoughts of grandeur
Large, when entertained,
Shrink to littleness
On the main.

Time

People sometimes talk 

'Bout the ravages of time,

Leading one to think

That time tears things apart.

But then they turn around 

And say another thing,

That time will heal all wounds

And bind up every heart.

It seems to me that time

Is hopelessly confused

Grinding up the weak

While loving on the meek.

What's a man to do

Who's subject to this whim?

Just trust that time is null,

Thank God that it is void.

For he will bear my wounds

And heal my broken heart

When one day I'm beset

And tempted to cry, "Fate!"

Time will fade away;

Law will rue the day.

Mercy will prevail.

And God is all in all.

Aged Steak

When you age a steak,

Just how old are we talkin?

'Cause past a certain time

And I just might be balkin'.

Don't want my steak a teenager

Or pushing fifty-one.

I'd rather have some fresher meat.

Less rancid is more fun!

Picture Framing These Days

I want to get a picture framed
To put it on my wall.
But when I look for framing shops
There's not one here at all!
I'll have to drive for miles on end
Or put it in the mail.
Maybe I'll just tack it up
And write the caption, "Fail?"

Morning

It's cold in the morning
When Faith's not around.
I'd rather keep sleeping
Until she was found.

Separation

I'm all alone
My wife has left
To Minnesota
I'm bereft
I'll soldier on
Til Saturday
When she comes home
Then I'll say, "Yay!"

More Ice Weasels

The ice weasels come when it's cold outside
And the wind begins to blow.
They scratch their claws on your windowpanes
So the fear in you starts to grow.
They howl little songs that are out of tune
Til your ears begin to whine,
"Save us, we beg, from these wrathful thugs
Or we'll surely end up dyin'."

Visitation

I went to see old Esther

Today at half past one.

So pleased was she to see me,

We talked past setting sun.

She shared some cake, some coffee too,

Regaled me tale by tale,

Til finally at midnight

I finally had to bail.

The visit was quite a hoot.  It turned out that it was her birthday and guests kept arriving.  She was just so pleased she could hardly contain herself.  The elderly need more visitors, more often.  I felt very privileged to be a part of it all today and especially privileged to give her the Lord's Supper.

Victory!

When the Packers win
I start to grin
As laughter bubbles
From within.
I dance a happy
Jig and then
I dance that happy
Jig again!

The Horse

I once had a horse with a toothy grin
And Jo Bob was his name-o.
J-O-B-O-B
J-O-B-O-B
J-O-B-O-B
And Jo Bob was his name-o.

This cheery horse he told good jokes

Not like David Lame-o.

L-A-M-E-O

L-A-M-E-O

L-A-M-E-O

And Lame-o was his name-o.

The Church

There once was a church in the snow

To which all the farmers would go.

They sat in the pews

To hear the good news

And sang how the chariot swung low.

Happy!!!

My wife says that I like to write about being cranky.  So I said, "I'll show you!"

Butterflies and rhubarb pies

And people without guile,

All these things are wonderful

And always make me smile!

Cows in Spring and harvesting

And fast cars waxed and shiny,

All these things are super nice

And never make me whiny.

Moving Day (Delayed)

There's gonna be some wind today
A-blowin' cross the plain.
Obscuring everything in sight
And bein' quite a pain.
We're gonna have to hunker down
And wait a little while
A'fore we trundle outta town
And go three hundred mile.
Tempted though I am today
To shake my fist and shout
I think it better just to nap
Than be a cranky lout.

Still Life

I look at the bowl.
Nothing at all is moving.
Stupid, lazy fruit.

Lowku

The mole is digging
Mariana  is  trenching
The Dead Sea just is

"Luck Be Some Minions. Luck Be Some Minions Tonight."

I'm trying to move.
But there's stuff.
Doggone it all
If it ain't rough
To get things just so,
So they won't break.
Really, how much time
Does it take?
I want some minions
With a large truck.
Now that would be
A stroke of luck!

If Thomas Hobbes Wrote Poetry

Happily hopping, the bunny went out
Searching for yummies to nibble.
Then came the wolf, with intentions so bad
That he turned the poor thing into kibble.

The End.

Focus

On days like this I have a list
And try hard to stick to it.
I tick the things that I must do
And try to show some grit.
Distractions come and wink their eyes
Enticing me to flit
On to less important things,
But I say, "No, you git!
I'm tryin' to do important things
So just pipe down and sit!"

No Trespassing

I'm fixing a hole
In the floor of my house
To keep out the rat
And keep out the mouse.
I want it all sealed,
An impregnable fort
So all their attacks
Will fall down quite short.

Free Couch

There once was a couch from a 'burb

Headed for life on the curb.

While loadin' 'er in

I knocked up my shin

And spoke quite a blustering blurb.

This limerick is mostly fictional.  There was a couch, a suburb and a truck.  We were not clumsy, though, and my shins went unscathed.

A Truly Lousy Poem on the Title

I got ordained the other day
So now they call me Reverend.
The formal sound sure strikes me weird;
At least my name's not Sigmund!
For Reverend Sigmund would be foul
To my own ears for certain.
If people called me such a thing
I'm sure it would be curtains.

Road Trip

One truck,
One wife,
One child.
The day
Will soon
Get wild.
We'll toodle
Down
The road.
Refusing
To
Be Slowed.
We'll reach
The place
We seek.
And hope
The babe
Don't reek.

The Truck

I shook my fist in impotent fury.  The truck wouldn't start.  "Start, you big dumb lug!"  

It clicked its engine at me.  "No, I think not.  I will be napping right here."

I was the one who wanted a nap.  I was the one who wanted to bury myself in blankets on the downstairs couch.  All I had to do was go take the truck, pick up a chair, and then lumber down the stairs.  And now the beastly thing was taunting me.  I couldn't very well threaten it with a sledgehammer since it's not my truck.  It would know that I was bluffing.  Nothing to do but jump it.

Wretchedness.  There shouldn't be this much green on the terminals.  It's not even Packers green.  "Don't even bother.  It's not going to work.  Go back inside and take your nap.  I won't tell."

If only...  But alas no.  I really must go.  But it's cold outside.  And I feel derided by a truck.  It's not even four wheel drive!  Maybe she's right.  Maybe it won't work?  And why am I thinking of this truck as a she?  What does that even mean?

[interlude]

It didn't work.  She was right.  It's going to take surgery.  Where was that sledgehammer?  

"Just give up, Sweetie.  I'm not worth your bother."

"I know you're not, you wicked thing!  But I can't take a proper nap without a clean conscience!  Naps demand it.  It's in their contract."

Corrosion.  Rust.  Bitter cold.  Darkness.  Ulysses would be proud.   Go to store.  Mother in law buys battery.  Come back.  Socket set?  Doesn't work.  What?  Work!  I just want a nap!  I don't need a fancy couch.  I'd settle for the floor.  

And then... finally, oh no, oh yes, yes!!!  It's coming together.  Hope, so long dashed, is rising from the snirt and grime, like a delicious bass from the lake!  Will she start and make my joy complete?

YES!!!

And now I'm too excited to sleep.  Stupid truck.

Home Made Juice Is a Win

I made a glass of juice today.
I made it for my wife.
I try to do the healthy things
To make a better life.
I peeled three oranges and then
I tossed some apples in.
And then, to top the beverage off,
I added lime for "WIN!"

A Conversation

Knock, knock.  Who's there?

A peck of pickled pepper pear.

Pickled pepper pear who?
And what the heck's that anyhoo?

Just a fruit that's spicy some,
Bathed in habanero rum.

Egads! that's nuts!

Nope, no nuts involved.
Just the ingredients I already mentioned.

When Is a Poem Not a Poem?

The verse inside my head 

Is hidden from my brain.

I'd like to write some poetry,

But think I'll just refrain.

Rather I'll just jot these words

Before they start to wane.

Easier than rhyming words

Is yankin' yer all's chain.

Baby Benjamin!

Baby Benjamin had many peeps.
And many peeps had baby Benjamin.
I am one of them and so are you,
So let's just call him cute.
Right arm!

Baby Benjamin had many peeps.

And many peeps had baby Benjamin.

I am one of them and so are you,

So let's just call him cute.

Right arm!  Left arm!

Baby Benjamin had many peeps.

And many peeps had baby Benjamin.

I am one of them and so are you,

So let's just call him cute.

Right arm!  Left arm!  Right foot!

Baby Benjamin had many peeps.

And many peeps had baby Benjamin.

I am one of them and so are you,

So let's just call him cute.

Right arm!  Left arm!  Right foot!  Left foot!

Dirt

Being    stuck    in  the mud
Is no excuse        for  desiring to stay dirty.
(But some people  just  loves them some mud.)

Four Thoughts

Oftentimes,

When the atmosphere is light

I smile and maunder.

Sometimes,

When I'm in the house alone,

I lie there and ponder.

Never,

When barraged by the quotidian,

Should I lose a sense of wonder,
...

But I do.

...

Always,

Though I'm foolish and ungrateful,

God has claimed me for his own.

Neither Here Nor There (A Shakespearean Sonnet)

I'd love to write a sonnet,
Making rhymes so easy.
I'd love to wear a bonnet,
But nothing that was sleazy.
I'd love to win a pony
And rent it out to babies.
I'd hate to be too bony,
Or covered with the scabies.
I'd like for things to warrant
Great praise from every man.
But sometimes there's a torrent
Of things I'd like to ban.
What do you do about that?
Just put on your pork pie hat.

Football

The football season's not quite done;
The Packers won today!
So now we play the "Dirty Birds"
Who stand right in our way.
I'm pulling for a victory
That isn't even close
But any win will sure suffice
Lest I become morose.

Home Medicine Limerick

I once had a wart on my toe.
And then it started to grow.
I burned it with flame
And then the pain came.
Now I've got one foot and woe!

Classic (and lousy) Meteorological Verse

Snowbanks are white
And cloudbanks are gray.
The palette is limited
On a cold winter's day.

Epiphany (just a wee bit weird)

Ann-Tie-uh-Cuss  E-Piff-uh-Knees
Was doing bad one day.
He went to ol' Jerusalem
And this is what he say,
"Your God is very weak, you see,
And I'll just show you how."
He roasted pig in the holy place
And boy that made him proud.

But Epiphanes was sore mistook
When he thought he could mock God
By putting bacon in his house
All bathed in piggy blood.

Epiphany means God shows up
But not to knock some heads.
Not even ol' Antiochus
Who was already quite dead.
No, God shows up in Jesus Christ
Not proud, nor spillin' blood.
He comes to testify to truth
And do his creatures good.

12 Drummers

A tone deaf drummer is much like an apple pie

Without any fish in it.

A non sequitur.

A rhythmless drummer is much like a lake

Without any water in it.

A travesty.

Twelve drummers flailing are much like Excedrin

Without any medicine in it.

A headache.

A Piper

I dream of certain things for my old age,
Fanciful whimsy that I do not subject
To nagging ethics
Or the moral considerations that have such pride of place today.
These fancies of mine are mostly philanthropic in nature,
Though they have a bit of a crust.

I want a porch.
A big wrap around affair, no screen, but fully covered.
I want a big chair of sorts
With the imprint of my bottom and my bottom alone.
I want to shake a stick at youthful types
Telling them loudly about gout and other wonders.

And I want a pipe.
I want to fiddle with the sweet smelling tobacco
And try to light it,
Lose track of the thing
And try again.
"Where were those matches again?"
(It's not a matter of forgetfulness, but insouciance.)
And I want to sit there and puff awhile in the summertime
Lingering over memories,
Perhaps cooking up hare-brained schemes.
I want my wife to come out with lemonade and say with crinkled nose,
"Are you bothering yourself with that stinky thing again?"
"Yes m'dear.  And I love you dearly."

I want to be a piper piping.
And I want to glory in life which has been so beautiful.

Lords Don't Leap for Just Any Old Thing (the 10th Day)

The Earl of Gloucester, the Baron of Kent,
The Duke of the county of Devon,
All were together and sporting one day
When 'round bout the hour of eleven
A maiden passed by and shouted out loud,
"Thy feet are like old hunks of stone!"
And like a gazelle she did prance on her way
Thus leaving the lords all alone.
"What did she say?" said the Earl with a huff,
I'm bouncy as bouncy can be!"
"Ha, ha" said the Baron with obvious mirth,
"I'm surely more nimble than thee."
"Codswollop, gents.  I think it's quite clear,"
Said the Duke with superior air.
"I'll leapfrog ye both.  I'll go flying by
And leave several furlongs to spare!"
So right on the spot, without wasting a breath
The lords started leaping like toads.
And so lost in fun did those same lords become
That they leaped several miles down the road.

Progressing Haikus (The 9th Day of Christmas)

When I dance
The awkward steps up...
And trips me.

When nine ladies dance
The graceful pirouetting
Is smooth like butter.

When I dance with nine ladies
The butter greases the parquet floor
And we all crash and break limbs.

Hope I Don't Get In Trouble for the Eight Day of Christmas

When baby came the milk did too
For health and strength to bring.
My wife's been pumping for some time
And will do till the Spring.