If you need more:
Shopping Visit With COVID
Dreaming of COVID Christmas
Ponytail for Christmas
When Dragons Came for Christmas
Corrections Carols
The Municipal Office Party
The Reindeer’s Olympics
(tune: The Teddy Bear’s Picnic
(tune by Bratton (1907), lyrics by Kennedy (1932))
If you go to the North Pole today,
You may not believe your eyes.
If you go to the North Pole today,
You are in for a surprise.
For all reindeer who live thereabout
Gather together to cheer and shout
For today is when reindeer hold their Olympics.
Every reindeer, whether young or old, are on their feet today
There’s lots of marvelous things to see and wonderful games to play
Upon the snow where all can see
They’ll run and leap with their great esprit
For today is when reindeer hold their Olympics.
Olympics games for reindeer
The test to find their best with the skills that Santa soon will need
Test them, choose them every year
And find the highest flyers of their breed
See them gaily prance about
And take flight at a shout
Some may fly, some not quite
At the games’ end, Santa will decide who
Will go with him to train to
Pull Santa’s sleigh on Christmas night
If you go to the North Pole today,
You may not believe your eyes.
If you go to the North Pole today,
You are in for a surprise.
For all reindeer who live thereabout
Gather together to cheer and shout
For today is when reindeer hold their Olympics.
I Saw Daddy Catching Santa Claus
(tune: I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus,
Tommie Connor (1952))
I saw Daddy catching Santa Claus
Underneath the mistletoe with Mom.
He did not seem pleased
When he saw how she teased.
He exploded like a bomb
When Santa’s beard Daddy seized.
Then I saw Daddy choking Santa Claus
Underneath his beard so snowy white
Oh, what a scream then I could hear
With Mom yelling in Daddy’s ear
That he was squeezing Santa too tight.
He saw Daddy choking Santa Claus.
I did! I really did see Daddy choking Santa Claus.
I think Daddy’s been bad.
Then I saw Daddy throwing Santa Claus
Out the door and into the snowbank
He yelled, “Stay away from my wife
If you want to keep your life --
I don’t care how much eggnog you drank.”
He saw Daddy fighting Santa Claus.
I did! I really did see Daddy fighting Santa Claus.
I think Daddy’s been bad.
They Came Out of the Starry Sky
(tune: It Came Upon The Midnight Clear,
Sears & Willis (1849-1850))
They came out of the starry sky,
That fantastic team of deer,
Pulling his sleigh across the air,
They came again this year.
Oh, hooves in flight, above the roof,
Delivering presents from on high.
Children sneaking from their beds
To see if reindeer fly.
Upon their cloven feet they strode,
Prancing lightly on cloudy mists.
They need to reach in that one night
Each child on Santa’s lists.
Above any terrain below,
‘Tis their job; they do not ask why,
Nor ask they when or where or how
That those reindeer can fly.
Yet with the doubts in adult minds,
We may wonder what keeps them up.
Is it the dreams of wee children
Or oats on which they sup?
Physics claims it cannot be done
No matter how hard reindeer try.
But children know, if we do not,
That reindeer indeed fly.
For lo! The kids have seen the books
And the stories on the TV.
They’re taught to trust their Mom and Dad
And believe what they see.
Parents, beware of what you say
And don’t let children hear you lie.
By Santa’s beard, solemnly swear
That reindeer really fly.
Ads, Humbug
(tune: Greensleeves)
Alas that time has come again
To tick you off so thoroughly
And jingle singing will begin
Annoying with its revelry
Don’t let their joy annoy
Don’t let it make you blue
Don’t let in too much to cloy
And don’t let the humbugs bite you
They come to sell this time of year
To milk your generosity
They offer up good deals and cheer
Mixed well with their pomposity
Don’t let their joy annoy
Don’t let it make you blue
Don’t let in too much to cloy
And don’t let the humbugs bite you
You may choose what you will ignore
Dismiss their Frosty and Santa
You just keep the parts you adore
And sort the pitch from the manna
Don’t let their joy annoy
Don’t let it make you blue
Don’t let in too much to cloy
And don’t let the humbugs bite you
Grandma’s Out Hunting For Reindeer
(tune: Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer,
Randy Brooks (1978))
Grandma’s out hunting for those reindeer
Who tried to run her over last night.
We may tell her she should let it go,
But Grandma won’t give up without a fight.
We found her in the snow this morning –
We thought she was dead by reindeer paws.
We put her on the couch and called Doc,
But now she’s angrier as she thaws.
She says the fat guy did it on purpose –
He was laughing as they launched the attack.
We told her to lay down and rest there,
But she swears she’s gonna get him back.
Grandma’s out hunting for those reindeer
Who tried to run her over last night.
We may tell her she should let it go,
But Grandma won’t give up without a fight.
We are trying to have a happy Christmas
While Grandma’s gathering up her gear.
We are unwrapping our Christmas presents
And Grandma’s getting ready to track deer.
We tell her Santa is a kindly soul
That none have ever found menace in.
But Grandma is so very determined –
Maybe our dinner will be venison.
Grandma’s out hunting for those reindeer
Who tried to run her over last night.
We may tell her she should let it go,
But Grandma won’t give up without a fight.
We’re Having a Hard Freeze
(tune: Heat Wave, Irving Berlin (1933))
We're having a hard freeze,
An arctic bomb hard freeze,
The temperature's sinking,
It has us thinking
It will be a blue lulu
It causes a hard freeze,
Start with a wayward breeze
In such a way that
The weathermen say that
It will be a blue lulu
Its climatology
Makes the mercury
Drop to minus three.
We're having a hard freeze,
An arctic bomb hard freeze,
The way that it moves
That thermometer proves
That it will be a blue lulu.
Shot Three, You’re Done?
(tune: Take Me Out to the Ball Game
Norworth & Von Tilzer (1908))
Take me out to the clinic
Take me out in that crowd
Line us up six feet apart
We all know this part by heart
Let me boost, boost, boost with the vaccine
If that don’t work, try again
For it’s one, two, three shots you’re done
‘Til the next CO-VID strain
For earlier shots/songs:
Shot 1:
COVID Vaccine Dues
Shot 2:
I'm Free
Thanksgiving Prayer
Empty out your horn of plenty
When you count your blessings many.
Dig down deep and then go deeper
To thank the giving bookkeeper.
Put aside any pile of woe --
Accept the to, ignore the fro.
Tomorrow you can fret again --
Today, say thanks and then amen.
Monday Morning Quarterback
(tune: Sunday Morning Coming Down,
Kris Kristofferson (1969)
sung by Johnny Cash)
Well, I wake up Monday morning
With no part of my body that doesn’t hurt.
And I feel a need for a beer so bad
But Coach says I gotta eat yoghurt.
Then I think about six sacks yesterday
And I still taste the turf and dirt.
Then I turn on the television set
And force myself to watch the game replay.
I’d tried my best the day before
With plays but nobody I was tricking.
I took the hike and watched them come at me
And soon our punter was again kicking.
Then they’d drive and score a touchdown
And I’d go back out for my next licking.
Then I could sit back on the bench
Thinkin’ I lost someway, somehow, again today.
Oh, a Sunday football defeat,
It can make me feel all alone.
Who else is there to take the blame
When my blockers leave me on my own?
And there is no use for crying
At twenty-five yards for first down.
I know the blitz is coming
And I will soon be on the ground.
At the park I saw a daddy
With his eager little son he’d brought to see
His first hometown pro football game
And I could hear them both booing me.
Oh, why do I play this game
When on every down for my life I must flee?
And it’s dragging down my career
Like my disappearing dreams of yesterday.
Oh, a Sunday football defeat,
It can make me feel all alone.
Who else is there to take the blame
When my blockers leave me on my own?
And there is no use for crying
At twenty-five yards for first down.
I know the blitz is coming
And I will soon be on the ground.
I Can Get to Work Now
(tune: I Can See Clearly Now,
by Johnny Nash (1972))
I can get to work now, the rain is gone,
I can see all the fallen leaves in my yard
Gone are the dark clouds that had me inside
It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright) Leaf-Raking day.
It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright) Leaf-Raking day.
I think I can rake it now, the pain is gone
All of the back achings have disappeared
Here is the clear day I've been waiting for
It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright) Leaf-Raking day.
Look all around, there's nothin' but blue skies
Look straight ahead, nothin' but blue skies.
I did get to work now, the pain is back,
I still have many fallen leaves in my yard
But gone are the huge piles that I made
It was a long (long), so long (long) day.
I’m gonna need a long (long), so long (long) Bone-Resting day.
I’m gonna need a long (long), so long (long) Bone-Resting day.
World Philosophy Day
When the world grants me my life’s trophy,
Will it be for my love of -sophy?
For a wit of wisdom I created?
For an unspoken truth I stated?
If all of the world needed to share
The output which philosophers bear,
Would not all the debates soon be closed
And nothing new ever be exposed?
Each their own philosophy to choose,
My own idiosophy to use --
Does it matter whether you agree
If my thoughts do (or not) work for me?
It is not products we need to love,
But the pondering process thereof.
We learn when we philosophize
And that’s truly our collective prize.
Take Us There, Country Roads
(tune: Take Me Home, Country Roads,
Denver & Danoff (1971))
Down the East coast, to Florida,
through the mountains, over the rivers;
Life on the road, driving by the trees,
rolling down the windows, feeling the cool breeze.
Country roads, take us there
on a trip that’s so long
Interstate highways, state routes also,
Country roads, take us there
All previous trips went there by air,
Two hop plane flights, routed through JFK.
Dark departure, head out by taxi,
Afternoon arrival, sailing through the sky.
Country roads, take us there
on a trip that’s so long
Interstate highways, state routes also,
Country roads, take us there
We hear the voice of our GPS,
She tells us, her messages remind us
Of the routes yet to go.
And driving down the road our rears can feel
We won’t be there ‘til the day after tomorrow
Country roads, take us there
on a trip that’s so long
Interstate highways, state routes also,
Country roads, take us there
Country roads, take us there
on a trip that’s so long
Interstate highways, state routes also,
Country roads, take us there
Take us there, our country's roads
Take us there, our country's roads
Putt, Putt
(tune: Beep, Beep, Winn & Joyce,
Sung by The Playmates (1958))
While shooting at my country club, what to my surprise
A guy with a putter was following me, about one-half my size
The guy must have wanted to show me up
As he matched my every shot.
I’ll show him that I am the pro and he is not so hot.
Putt, putt. Putt, putt.
Putt, putt. Putt, putt. Putt, putt.
His shots were all putt-putts.
I pulled my two wood from my bag to drive down the fairway
But that little guy used his putter off the tee;
He still hit one far away.
He must have thought he had the best stuff
As he matched my every shot.
I’ll show him that I am the pro and he is not so hot.
Putt, putt. Putt, putt.
Putt, putt. Putt, putt. Putt, putt.
His shots were all putt-putts.
My sand wedge was my chosen club
And I took careful aim
I lift the ball ninety yards --
Show’m how to play this game
Inside three feet, I looked back from the green
I couldn't believe my eyes
The little putter guy let fly his shot
And closer his ball lies.
Putt, putt. Putt, putt.
Putt, putt. Putt, putt. Putt, putt.
His shots were all putt-putts.
With my seven I teed off next par three
And I laid in an ace
But the guy stepped up with his putter --
He kept up to my pace
The guy must have wanted to show me up
As he matched my every shot.
I’ll show him that I am the pro and he is not so hot.
Putt, putt. Putt, putt.
Putt, putt. Putt, putt. Putt, putt.
His shots were all putt-putts.
At the par four, I hit farther than ever before
And I was on in one
The guy and his putter hit his shot --
He matched what I had done
After we each sank our eagles,
The guy asked as I moved away,
“Hey, Buddy, could you lend me a club?
I broke this one yesterday.”
Putt, putt. Putt, putt.
Putt, putt. Putt, putt. Putt, putt.
In the Glow of the Golden Sun
(tune: By the Light of the Silvery Moon,
Madden & Edwards (1909))
In the glow of the golden sun
Let’s have some fun.
Out in the sun, we’ll shun no one.
Just have fun, keep a-playing ‘til done.
Those golden rays will last for days.
We’ll be on the run
In this golden sun.
Place, pool, scene cool.
Golden sun is peeking through the clouds
Cast, two. Me, you.
In lounge chairs just watching the crowds.
Act one, begun
Dialog, would you like to putt-putt?
Say when. Now then.
Let’s go, we got stuff to strut.
In the glow of the golden sun
We’ve had our fun.
Out in the sun, we shunned no one.
Just had fun, kept a-playing ‘til done.
Those golden rays have lasted for days.
We’re going home soon
From this golden sun.
Act two, scene new.
Sunrise still hours before it will glow.
Cast three. You, me
The car, all packed up ready to go.
Gas, check. Flex neck.
Highway, it’s time to head back up north.
Trip done. ‘Twas fun.
There’s a back for every forth.
Bye to the glow of the golden sun
We had our fun.
Out in the sun, we shunned no one.
Just had fun, kept a-playing ‘til done.
Those golden rays did last for days.
We will be home soon
From that golden sun.
The Late Visitor
When Bigfoot comes to your door
Late on Halloween night,
Should you his demands ignore
And not turn on your light?
Should you take this photo op
When given the rare chance?
Do you think when next he’ll stop
To give more than a glance?
Will you still have treats on hand
To sate his appetite?
Was his visit too unplanned?
You snacked too much tonight.
I’m not sure what I would do
With Bigfoot on my stoop.
I hope if it becomes true,
It’s not a family group.
Planning of Whippets
I live my life in snippets
With the focus of whippets,
Chasing rabbits around the track.
If I had a longer span
And was one to make a plan,
I’d notice the success I lack.
But keeping my goals so short
Gives me success of a sort,
Making me a contented man.
I puzzle from clue to clue,
Bites well sized for me to chew,
With no need to see the whole span.
When you need to see the end,
With in its blank, you portend
Failure before the effort began.
You may hesitate too long,
Fearing outcome will be wrong,
And you do not do things you can.
Do not fear you won’t finish
For the chances will diminish
For all projects you never start.
You also may be like me
And best achieve by degree --
Doing, not being done, is art.
Previous carols at:
Carols for Halloween
More Carols for Halloween
Trick or Treat to You
(tune: Happy Birthday to You)
Trick or Treat to You
Trick or Treat to You
Come up with the treats now,
Or we’re gonna yell boo!!!
Edgar the Scarecrow
(tune: Frosty the Snowman)
Edgar the Scarecrow was an itchy, scratchy guy
With a flannel shirt and torn blue jeans,
And feedsack with one eye.
Edgar the Scarecrow is a folklore tale, I heard.
He was full of straw, but, I was told,
He couldn’t chase a bird.
It was Halloween when he suddenly jumped down --
He could not get back up on his pole,
So instead, he went to town.
Oh, Edgar the Scarecrow, was as lost as he could be,
For the kids that day in costumed array
Looked just as strange as he.
Stumbily bump stump, bumpily bump stump,
Edgar walked so slow.
Stumbily bump stump, bumpily bump stump,
Edgar knew not where to go.
Edgar the Scarecrow lost some straw with every step.
The kids said “Come with us”, so without a bit more fuss,
After them he did schlep.
He followed them, house to house, and at each door,
Folks with surprise so loved his disguise,
They filled his bag with more.
The trail of straw behind, Edgar saw, as it grew and grew;
In only a few moments, his adventure would be through.
So Edgar the Scarecrow went back to his cornfield,
And farmers tell where his candy fell
Improved twofold that year’s yield.
Loot the Houses
(tune: Deck the Halls)
Lock the doors, get out the sherry,
Bwah ha ha, Bwah ha ha, ha ha ha!
‘Tis the season things turn scary,
Bwah ha ha, ha ha ha, bwah ha ha!
Don they now their weird apparel,
Bwah ha ha, Bwah ha ha, ha ha ha!
Tonight kids have all gone feral,
Bwah ha ha, ha ha ha, bwah ha ha!
See the begging grins before us,
Bwah ha ha, Bwah ha ha, ha ha ha!
Shut the lights, they may ignore us,
Bwah ha ha, ha ha ha, bwah ha ha!
“Gave to us your sweetest treasure,
Bwah ha ha, Bwah ha ha, ha ha ha!
Or you will feel our displeasure,
Bwah ha ha, ha ha ha, bwah ha ha!”
Fast they pass from door to door,
Bwah ha ha, Bwah ha ha, ha ha ha!
Bags all ready to hold more,
Bwah ha ha, ha ha ha, bwah ha ha!
They will come in any weather,
Bwah ha ha, Bwah ha ha, ha ha ha!
On Halloween they loot together,
Bwah ha ha, ha ha ha, Bwah Ha Ha!
Twelve Hours of Halloween
(tune: Twelve Days of Christmas)
In the first hour of Halloween, my neighbors sent to me
A toddler as a pumpkin.
In the second hour of Halloween, my neighbors sent to me
Twins dressed as mice
And a toddler as a pumpkin.
In the third hour of Halloween, my neighbors sent to me
Three blue smurfs, twins dressed as mice
And a toddler as a pumpkin.
In the fourth hour of Halloween, my neighbors sent to me
Four cawing crows, three blue smurfs, twins dressed as mice
And a toddler as a pumpkin.
In the fifth hour of Halloween, my neighbors sent to me
Five superheroes.
Four cawing crows, three blue smurfs, twins dressed as mice
And a toddler as a pumpkin.
In the sixth hour of Halloween, my neighbors sent to me
Six ghosts a-booing,
Five superheroes.
Four cawing crows, three blue smurfs, twins dressed as mice
And a toddler as a pumpkin.
In the seventh hour of Halloween, my neighbors sent to me
Seven spooks a-wailing, six ghosts a-booing,
Five superheroes.
Four cawing crows, three blue smurfs, twins dressed as mice
And a toddler as a pumpkin.
In the eighth hour of Halloween, my neighbors sent to me
Eight fairies dancing, seven spooks a-wailing,
six ghosts a-booing,
Five superheroes.
Four cawing crows, three blue smurfs, twins dressed as mice
And a toddler as a pumpkin.
In the ninth hour of Halloween, my neighbors sent to me
Nine witches brewing, eight fairies dancing,
seven spooks a-wailing, six ghosts a-booing,
Five superheroes.
Four cawing crows, three blue smurfs, twins dressed as mice
And a toddler as a pumpkin.
In the tenth hour of Halloween, my neighbors sent to me
Ten creeps a-creeping, nine witches brewing,
eight fairies dancing, seven spooks a-wailing,
six ghosts a-booing,
Five superheroes.
Four cawing crows, three blue smurfs, twins dressed as mice
And a toddler as a pumpkin.
In the eleventh hour of Halloween, my neighbors sent to me
Eleven teen girls giggling, ten creeps a-creeping,
nine witches brewing, eight fairies dancing,
seven spooks a-wailing, six ghosts a-booing,
Five superheroes.
Four cawing crows, three blue smurfs, twins dressed as mice
And a toddler as a pumpkin.
In the twelfth hour of Halloween, my neighbors sent to me
Twelve teen boys bumming, eleven teen girls giggling,
ten creeps a-creeping, nine witches brewing,
eight fairies dancing, seven spooks a-wailing,
six ghosts a-booing,
Five superheroes.
Four cawing crows, three blue smurfs, twins dressed as mice
And a toddler as a pumpkin.
(International) Skeptics Day?
Do you believe in Skeptics Day?
It may be today -- I’m not sure.
It’s on the thirteenth, so they say,
October, January. More?
Any time it falls on a Friday?
Such limits I do not care for.
Some also add Election Day --
Believing it is quite a chore.
Can they prove whatever they say
Or must they still show you more?
Where are the facts for you to weigh
And the theories yet to explore?
It is not proof the other way
To ask why of the common lores.
No answer yet does not hold sway
Even when the belief is yours.
GPS Exhortation
(tune: I Will Follow Him
(Pourcel & Muiriat, 1961,
Sung by Peggy March (1963) and
in Sister Act (1992)))
Use me, Please use me, Please use me
And where I show, you follow, you follow, you follow
You should follow me
Follow me wherever I may show
There isn’t a road trip too long
An address so lost I cannot find a way
You should follow me (follow me)
Ever since you touched my pad I knew
That with me you always ought be
And nothing is better than me
I know your destiny (destiny)
Please use me. please use me, please use me
And where I say you follow, you follow, you follow
I’ll always tell you true routes, tell true routes, tell true routes
From here to wherever, wherever, wherever
You should follow me (follow me)
Follow me wherever you may go
There may be other ways there
They are many ways you might err, err the wrong way
You should turn around (u-turn here, u-turn here, u-turn here)
Please use me. please use me, please use me
And where I say you follow, you follow, you follow
I’ll always tell you true routes, tell true routes, tell true routes
From here to wherever, wherever, wherever
You should follow me
Follow me wherever I may show
There isn’t a road trip too long
An address so lost I cannot find a way
And where I say, please follow, please follow, please follow
You know I’ll always guide you, I’ll guide you, I’ll guide you
And where I say, please follow, please follow, please follow
You know I’ll always guide you, I’ll guide you, I’ll guide you
And where I say, please follow
Edgar Allan Poe
(on the anniversary of his death)
It was many and many a year gone by,
More than a century ago,
That a poet then lived whom was known by
The name of Edgar Allan Poe;
And this poet he lived with fanciful thoughts
Of lost love and where it did go.
I was a child and he was well chilled
In his graveyard long ago,
But I thrilled with a thrill almost as chill
As words by Edgar Allan Poe.
With the skill that Calliope had instilled,
Tingles would through me flow.
This may be the reason, way back then,
In my bedroom so long ago,
With pen and paper in privacy,
I aped Edgar Allan Poe;
So I hid my poetry away
And thought none would ever know,
Of my shallow flights of fantasy
Where my dreams often go.
The angels, too bored in Heaven above,
Envied the talented Poe --
Yes! -- that is the reason (as we now see
In a life so filled with woe)
That nightmares came out of his dreams at night,
Plaguing and breaking Edgar Allan Poe.
But his voice it was stronger by far than the voice
Of those who lived longer than he --
Of many more clever than me --
And neither the angels in Heaven above
Nor the demons way down deep below
Can ever endeavor to take the wonders
Of the fantastic Edgar Allan Poe.
For the pages ever turn lighting the tales to burn
Of the fantastic Edgar Allan Poe.
And the bells ever peal, but the pulse we feel
Of the fantastic Edgar Allan Poe.
And so, I may tonight, by my screen’s glowing light,
From my mentor -- my fair Poe - get a chilling fright,
In his legacy there in the glow
In the depth of Death’s lasting shadow.
I Don’t Want to Call the World a Liar
(tune: I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire
(Benjamin, Durham, Marcus, and Seilor, 1938))
I don’t really care who’s in power
When I tune in the nightly news hour.
For the facts is what I seek
But what I hear makes me shriek.
“I don’t want to call the world a liar;
I just want to hear that something is true!
In my head, I am in a crossfire --
Whatever they say is denied by you!”
I’ve lost my dreams for worldly unity;
I just want a little peace in my life.
If you agree, I might have some sanity
And I won’t need to scream at the strife,
“I don’t want to call the world a liar;
Just say something you all think is true!”
The Household Brownie
(tune: Wichita Lineman (Jimmy Webb, 1968;
Sung by Glen Campbell))
I am the lonely household brownie
And I do the chores here
Workin’ in the night for just a sip of beer
I sweep out all the cobwebs,
I polish every doorknob,
And the household brownie is still on the job
I know I need a small vacation
But chores are never done
There are never enough hours from set to rise of the sun
And I need work more than want to,
But this is home to a slob
So the household brownie is still on the job
And I need work more than want to,
But this is home to a slob
So the household brownie is still on the job
National Punctuation Day
Why, Where, and How do you (and yours)
Celebrate in some special way
“National Punctuation Day”?
‘Cause those misplaced marks could cause wars
Wherever one lands/misses in error,
You should study it like grammar.
When a colon, dash, or comma
To break your thoughts in proper parts
Isn’t a matter of whimsy’s arts.
Learning how should not cause you trauma --
Their good usage is guided by rules;
Say what you mean with those small tools.
The Majestic and Wonderful Fred
He came on an elephant astride.
To dismount, down its trunk he did slide.
Why he was there or where he came from --
These questions through our small crowd did hum.
With a flourish of his golden cape,
On the beast’s side he lowered a drape.
The letters glistened and there read,
“The Majestic and Wonderful Fred”
We laughed a bit and politely clapped
As his wand from some silks was unwrapped.
He spoke not a word as he prepared --
A hush settled on us as we stared.
Next a table he pulled from a sack
Which had floated down from his ride’s back.
Out came a chair and napkin and plate --
Then milk he drank and a snack he ate.
Smacking his lips, he packed all back in.
Wand wave to put the sack in its bin.
The curtain rerolled up the beast’s side
And the wand into its silk to hide.
Fred reached up and the trunk came down.
The elephant picked him off the ground.
Again astride his enormous steed,
He strolled away with no show of speed.
Kam and Joe Go to the Hill
Kam and Joe, where do you go
To fix our broken nation?
Get a bill passed through the Hill
Oh, such a great frustration
Push to left, the right’s bereft,
Insists on compensation.
Favor right, the left will fight
Without Mitch’s provocation.
Trillions plus trillions,
For reconciliation.
Tricky plan, we hope you can;
Beware retaliation.
National Cookie(s) Holiday(s)
If you need a holiday
To lead your diet astray,
Some are in the cookie jar
Even though that seems bizarre.
We can start with generic
Before the esoteric --
December 4th, so they say,
Is National Cookie Day
If you favor plain Oatmeal,
April 30 is your deal.
Lacy Oatmeal is your scene?
Your feast is on March 18.
You love the Peanut Butter?
June 12 makes your heart flutter.
Pecan is your nut for fun?
That’s September 21.
Sugar cookies are just fine?
Soon it will be July 9.
Chocolate Chip you like more?
A few weeks ‘til August 4.
Spicy Hermit are your chew?
November 15 for you.
Gingerbread give you a yen?
November 21 then.
Oreo for the can’t-cook?
March 6 gets you off the hook.
If your favorite was missed,
Add your own day to the list.
The Wit of Nonsense
(tune: The Sound of Silence
(Paul Simon, 1964))
Hello, out there, my old friend
I hope to rhyme for you again
Because boredom is on me sinking
And its onset has me thinking
How new memories haunt my brain
With an odd refrain
Of the wit of nonsense
In the weird world I ponder in
Thoughts can make me moan or grin
Twists will unwind under my skull
That might only amuse a laughing gull
But they may blossom and bloom from within
When allowed to begin
To show the wit of nonsense
When I start I do not know
Where the strolling troll will go
Stopping for tea with a witch
Swapping gossip with a snitch
His adventure is in to where he walks
And to whom he talks
With the wit of nonsense
“Friends,” I say, “I apologize;
Nonsense seems a lot like lies;
Read my rhymes that I might please you;
I tease my wits that I might seize you
With a chuckle you did not expect
From the wit of nonsense.”
I know none may clap and praise
All the silliness that I raise
And your brain may flash its warning
That this drivel is for avoiding
And the blog calls, “The words of this poet
Are written just for the fun
And maybe a pun
By a nitwit of nonsense.”
The Age of Asparagus
(tune: The Age of Aquarius
(from Hair, Rado, Ragni, and MacDermot (1967)))
When the grown child is in the parents’ house
And college life confronts Mom’s
Then change will guide her diet
And meat will give her qualms
This is the dawning of the Age of Asparagus
Age of Asparagus, Asparagus, Asparagus
Broccoli and tofu hummus
There are now vegans among us
No more red meat, eggs, milk, or cheese
Only eating from stems and trees
Novel cuisine exhibition
Balanced against malnutrition
Asparagus, Asparagus
When the grown child is in the parents’ house
And college life confronts Mom’s
Then change will guide her diet
And meat will give her qualms
This is the dawning of the Age of Asparagus
Age of Asparagus, Asparagus, Asparagus
Let the vegan, let the vegan in, the vegan in
Let the vegan, let the vegan in, the vegan in
Let the vegan, let the vegan in, the vegan in
Let the vegan, let the vegan in, the vegan in
Oh, let her in, c’mon
Now everybody just eat along
Let the vegan in
Improve your heart and let the veggies in
When you are hungry, have veggies now
Got to let her in your heart and let her diet in
And when you feel like you’ve been mistreated
And cannot live this way
Just open your mouth and sneak ice cream in
Fairy Tales Haiku
Fairy Tales Haiku
Short plot points sketch storyline
Your mind stretch the rest
Erect defenses
Straw/twine, sticks/mud, brick/mortar
BBQ at 8
Bear home invasion
Too Pa, too Ma, Right Baby
Change tonight’s menu
Wood boy, telltale nose
Hard to be good or be real
Splintered persona
Large egg off tall wall
No knights, no horses, no repair
Job for cleanup crew
Girl without stylist
Lonely tower without doors
Just golden hair stair
Forgot to invite
Witch with nasty future curse
Spindle and good night
Queen cheat, not compete
Poison apple for beauty
Seven sad small men
Gala ball for all
Fairy godmom trumps stepmom
Glass slipper wins
Thirsty day for two
Treacherous slope trips them both
Who put well up there
Skinny man, fat wife
No problem, no leftovers
No washing needed
Rodents feel their way
Mistake farmer wife for cheese
Three mouse tails for sale
Girl’s lamb goes to school
Children laugh, teacher eject
Lamb will never learn
What a Wonderful Weird
(tune: What a Wonderful World,
Theile&Weiss (1967)
Sung by Louis Armstrong)
An Anthem for Wonderful Weirdo Day
September 9th
I think tales untold
Out of the blue
I watch them grow
To me they’re true
And I think of myself
It’s wonderfully weird
I write the first line
Unknown what’s next
Out on the keys
Arrives the text
And I think of myself
It’s wonderfully weird
The wonders of our weirdos
Fill the world with delight
Once you’re over the shock
If you look at it right
You see folks shaking heads
Saying “What’s wrong with you?”
They’re really saying
“That’s so cool!”
When I see you try
I see you grow
Weird shows us more
Than what we know
And we think of ourselves
It’s wonderfully weird
And we think of ourselves
It’s wonderfully weird
Oh Yeah
Wonderful Weirdo Day - September 9th
Finally, a day for me --
It’s Wonderful Weirdo Day.
To be as I want to be;
To say what I want to say.
If the neighbors inhibit you
And you hold it back inside,
Your tongue you politely chew
And thoughts you discreetly hide.
But Wonderful Weirdo Day
Is the time you can let go.
Whatever you do today
Is gone with tomorrow's dew.
Today we will laugh with you;
Overlook disagreements.
We cherish your point of view;
Tomorrow’s for aggrievements.
Wingless Eagle, Anyone?
Our politics is a flightless bird,
Wings flap in opposite directions.
It is by design odd and absurd,
Leaning in favor of rejection.
Good ideas are trampled under foot
Even by its ardent proponent.
They start the debates to get input,
Soon bicker over each component.
If one wants this, he does not want that;
All want less, except those wanting more.
But despite all furor in the spat,
Party votes when it comes to the floor.
Majority rule isn’t good enough;
With all balance checked and then knocked off.
Getting the House to agree is tough,
But watch for one Senator to scoff.
But perhaps we do not need to fly;
We can limp along to some effect.
Our too winged eagle can still try;
It’s not fully broken, just hen-pecked.
Homebound Troubadour
I might have been a troubadour
When I was eager to leave home;
To sing songs of news and folklore
Along the far pathways I roam.
It might’ve helped if my singing voice
Was then more than a happy croak.
Folks listened if they had no choice
To that darn singin’ paperboy bloke.
Oh yes, I sang and I performed
Both in the shower and on stage.
But around me then no crowds swarmed;
Of my talent, ‘twas a fair gauge.
Now I’m a silent troubadour,
Comfy nestled in my living room chair.
I may hum a tune, but no more;
You can sing the lyrics I share.
Idle Minds Are a Silly Waste
Subduing grass into a lawn
Is a task to induce a yawn.
My mind let loose by humdrum pace
Switches from off to idly race.
Idle minds are silly for me,
A chance to flee reality.
Perhaps I should ponder deeply,
But instead I buy grins cheaply.
I hear little voices in my head
And catch a bit of what is said.
Some pass with only a low hum;
The unlucky seed a poem.
“My support doesn’t mean we agree;
My vote with you means you owe me.”
“I saw an angel late last night;
Hope it’s not me he came to smite.”
“I love to write a foolish verse;
Although a curse, it could be worse.”
“A llama walks into a bar --
How is this joke going so far?”
I might write one down, once inside,
To find what further it does hide.
Mostly I think me to amuse --
Often it’s my friends I abuse.
So, if I give you, friend, the choice,
Of my exploring of which voice,
Would you dare say which I should grow,
Or simply say, oh no, please, no!
Nobody stopped me, so:
============================
Politics make strange bedfellows,
It pairs up tubas with cellos.
If you think Reps work for your good,
You might not question where they stood.
In the hallway, just yesterday,
I heard one to another say,
“My support doesn’t mean we agree;
My vote with you means you owe me.”
--------------------------
‘Though it might seem best to believe
The stories which the churchmen weave,
Some tales I’ve heard from the pulpit
Were too strange for me to gulp it.
I mean to them no disrespect
If their teachings I must reject.
I saw an angel late last night;
Hope it’s not me he came to smite.
--------------------------
When all I hear is the old clock,
Voices in my brain start to talk.
They fill the silent spaces between
What is now and what may have been.
It seems likely they like to lie,
But, to tell the truth, so do I.
A fudge here and a flourish there
Will give a truth some room to spare.
I love to write a foolish verse;
Although a curse, it could be worse.
I mostly know what I made up,
And let you choose if you will sup.
--------------------------
A llama walks into a bar --
How is this joke going so far?
Said, I meant to be here sooner,
But was dating a vicuna.
Due to arid Andean air,
She doesn't drink very much up there.
She would not come in here with me,
And this is where the joke should be.
--------------------------
National No Rhyme (Nor Reason) Day
It cannot be done, so why try.
Refractory rhymes make us cry.
They just want to be left alone,
Not with words few have ever known.
We might re-elect a Truman,
But with no rhyme won’t a Woman?
Are the spores in that yon Sporange
Ever so slight shades of Orange?
Smash Concord grapes with your Curple
And your butt cheeks will turn Purple.
A hurdle can kill your Spirit,
Or lift it up when you Clear it.
Sweep lung comes from cleaning Chimneys;
Exercise bikes give me Gym knees.
With the “ninth” “month” in the middle,
Win the “silver” “pint” for this riddle.
My Stump Speech
You may ask me on what I stand,
Or maybe even how.
I might use any stump at hand
To say what they allow.
But I am lucky most the time,
For I don’t draw a crowd.
I hide my thoughts in silly rhyme
Which I don’t say aloud.
National Waffle Day
It’s a bad day to make a decision
For today is National Waffle Day.
The world is just so full of division;
It’s nice not to need to choose yea or nay.
Oh, you say that is not what this day means --
It’s to celebrate the noun, not the verb.
This day they patented waffle iron machines,
An historic event, oh so superb.
Well, we need something on which to agree,
Even if it’s silly and way out there.
Now what kind of waffle should you serve me --
Belgian or American, round or square?
Ballad of Henri
(tune: I’ll Be Seeing You
(Fain & Kahalm 1938))
Eye will be seen by you
In all the unfamiliar places
Where the smart of you braces
All day through
Out in Cape Cod way
The Narragansett Bay
The Long Island Sound
Connecticut
Like Middletown
Eye will be seen by you
On this very lovely summer day
When everything starts to sway
Eye always affect things that way
Eye will blot out the morning sun
And then blow all night through
Eye drops rain on everyone
Be sure, Eye will get you
On Vacation Again
(tune: On The Road Again
(Willie Nelson, 1980))
On vacation again
Just now choosing to leave the State again
The trips we couldn’t take with the virus back then
But with our shots we can travel again
On vacation again
Goin’ places now with our vaccine
Hopin’ folks we meet out there did not abstain
So we can safely go on vacation again.
On vacation again
Like a pair of gypsies we motor the highway
Not ready for a plane
Controlling our space as we travel on our way
And our way is vacation again
We couldn’t wait for this pandemic to end
Unused timeshare points were gnawing us like a pain
We just couldn’t wait to go on vacation again
What Did You Do On Vacation?
(tune: What Did You Learn In School Today
(Tom Paxton, 1963))
{Chorus}
What did you do on vacation today,
Bold traveler out there?
What did you do on vacation today,
Bold traveler out there?
I saw the trees and streams are still there;
I saw they are unchanged by the virus scare.
I saw the other folks' faces with no masks on;
They are seemingly blissful that task is gone.
And that’s what I did on vacation today
That’s what I did on vacation
{Chorus}
We went to the welcome reception party;
It had lots of free food which we ate hearty.
Our appetites were satisfied to the seam,
So we skipped dinner, went back, and ate ice cream.
And that's what I did on vacation today
That’s what I did on vacation
{Chorus}
I finger-painted lotion on my wife’s back;
She has a love of sun which I mostly lack.
I stayed inside with my coffee and laptop
While she went to swim laps, down and back, nonstop.
And that’s what I did on vacation today
That’s what I did on vacation
{Chorus}
I waited in line to order barbeque;
It was only an hour but it felt like two.
People on vacation are a patient lot;
AC helps waiting when outside is so hot.
And that’s what I did on vacation today
That’s what I did on vacation
{Chorus}
I settled down last night to watch Jeopardy,
But the resort has trouble with DirectTV.
It wasn’t back this morning, maybe not tonight;
I won’t know if I get the Final question right.
And that’s what I did on vacation today
That’s what I did on vacation
{Chorus}
We drove through the Shenandoah National Park;
We looked around for wildlife before it got dark.
They say if you picnic to beware of bear,
But we only saw them in the gift shop there.
And that’s what I did on vacation today
That’s what I did on vacation
{Chorus}
We had to switch units, so we went downtown;
In historic Harrisonburg we walked around.
When we saw enough, we thought where to go;
So my wife suggested, let’s go to Costco.
And that’s what I did on vacation today
That’s what I did on vacation
{Chorus}
We went to the resort timesharers’ update;
They want to sell more ‘though what we have is great.
We never learn anything new in this rehash,
But let them talk through it, then they give us cash.
And that’s what I did on vacation today
That’s what I did on vacation
{Chorus}
We signed up for a cooking demonstration;
If I tried it, it would be a cremation.
Although I cannot season or cook meat,
I was great at the part when we got to eat.
And that’s what I did on vacation today
That’s what I did on vacation
{Chorus}
I went for a hike on the Appalachian Trail;
My climbing pace is about that of a snail.
Soon my car disappeared from my sight,
So I went back to check if it was alright.
And that’s what I did on vacation today
That’s what I did on vacation
{Chorus}
Now the day has come for us our bags to pack;
We decide what to toss and what to take back.
Memories are most of what new we collected;
They take little room if our brains are connected.
And that’s what I did on vacation today
That’s what I did on vacation
We’re Driving in the Park
(tune: Singing in the Rain
(Freed & Brown, 1929))
We’re driving in the park,
Just driving in the park,
So glorious wheeling,
Out on a lark.
I sightsee the trees
That crowd all around.
I don’t feel the breeze;
My AC turned down.
Let the summer heat bake
Those we left in our wake.
We ate at Skyland
Topped with ice cream cake.
We drive and remark
Such fun on a lark
Just driving,
Driving in the park.
Here Comes The Rain
(tune: Here Comes The Sun
(George Harrision, 1967))
Here comes the rain, drip, drop, drip, Here comes the rain,
And I say it’s all wet
Oh my darling, it’s been a long dry sunny summer
Oh my darling, it’s been hard on golf courses here
Here comes the rain, drip, drop, drip, Here comes the rain,
And I say it’s all wet
Oh my darling, we had a week of nice weather
Oh my darling, we cannot have all days be clear
Here comes the rain, drip, drop, drip, Here comes the rain,
And I say it’s all wet
Rain, Rain, Rain, here it comes
Rain, Rain, Rain, here it comes
Rain, Rain, Rain, here it comes
Rain, Rain, Rain, here it comes
Oh my darling, it may clear again tomorrow
Oh my darling, until then we can snuggle near
Here comes the rain, drip, drop, drip, Here comes the rain,
And I say it’s all wet
Goin’ Home Day
(tune: My Way
(Frank Sinatra recorded 1968))
And now the end is near
And soon we near the final checkout
My friends, we’re out of here
It is the time for our homeward route
We’ve had our fun for sure
But now it’s back to the highway
We might want more than this
But it’s goin’ home day.
Rain days, we had a few
But then again, none were too gloomy.
We found things we could do
Even inside units were roomy
We did more than we planned
Found activities along the way
We might’ve done more than this
But it’s goin’ home day.
Yes, there were times when we thought of you
Not too many but more than a few
But through it all, we came for fun
And we’d get it until we’re done
We had a ball and did it all
But it’s goin’ home day
We drove, we ate and slept
We had our laughs and saw our sights
And not one tear was wept
Any problems were but mere slights
To think of all we did
To play our days away in our stay
Now it’s goin’ home day
For what is a trip, what do you earn?
If, to home, you do not return?
To see new things is truly fun
But you miss home comforts you’ve spun
Such fun to go to see life’s show
Now it’s goin’ home day
Shenandoah Vacation
(tune: Oh, Shenandoah)
Oh, Shenandoah,
I come to see you
I’m here, you rolling river.
Winding around,
It is such a view.
For two weeks I’ll stay
While I’m on vacation.
Oh, Shenandoah,
I love your valley
I’m here, you rolling river.
I feel so free
To dilly-dally.
For two weeks I’ll stay
While I’m on vacation.
Oh, Shenandoah,
I roam your forest
I’m here, you rolling river.
On the wild hills,
You’re nature’s florist.
For two weeks I’ll stay
While I’m on vacation.
Farewell, goodbye,
I must now leave you
Goin’ home, you rolling river.
Oh, so fondly
I bid you adieu.
Away, I’m going home
To my Green Mountains.
Living in Disarray
Give me my life of disarray;
I’ll find something to do today.
I need not sort and rearrange
To place my leavings back in range.
All will later be there to find
If and when a need comes to mind.
It’s not lost, just a mite misplaced;
Looking now would just be a waste.
Although things might be briefly found,
They would return when they’re set down.
While I search for this, I’ll see that,
And mentally I’ll switch tit for tat.
So learn to live in disarray;
It‘s easier to rest that way.
Use what comes to your mind or hand;
If it doesn’t fit, change what you planned.
If I Did Not Have You
I may pause to wonder what I would do
If, no longer, I could kvetch about you.
With no bureaucrats soundly to berate,
No phone marketers to intolerate,
No noisy neighbors in their own backyard,
No cheerful clerks or guides who try too hard.
What if we all shared the same politics?
Then where would we cast our sarcastic bricks?
What would make me shake my head in wonder
If our beliefs were not set asunder?
Thank goodness for our great diversity --
I almost thought I would criticize me.
If Ever You Would Leave Home
(tune: If Ever I Should Leave You
(Lerner & Loewe, 1960))
If ever you vacation, it shouldn’t be in summer,
For in summer is when the lawn grows.
The grass soaks up sunlight, soon it is knee high,
It chokes the mower, no matter how hard you try.
But if you ever leave home, it shouldn’t be in autumn
Leaves pile up in autumn every time the wind blows.
And all those chores undone now have only weeks
To be completed before frost nips your cheeks.
And can you leave your driveway clogged up with snow
It shows you’re away; every burglar will know.
If ever you would leave home, how could it be in springtime,
Weather in spring is as nice as home gets, you know.
Oh no, not in springtime, summer, winter, or fall
Own a house and you can never leave at all.
How to Handle a Bugbear
If you ever meet a bugbear,
I will tell you what you should do.
Inform him that you do not care
Even if he tries to eat you.
Tell him he might well break his teeth
When, on you, he attempts to chew --
Your flesh seems soft but underneath
Your bones are hard as ever grew.
Pity him his fearful hunger
And offer him friendly advice.
Point out that your sister’s younger
And she tastes at least twice as nice.
Addendum (in reply to my daughter):
'Though this worked for me as a boy,
I never told Sis ‘bout the ploy.
Sis was scary as she was nice --
Never saw the same bugbear twice.
Reunion L(I)
(EJHS Class of ‘70)
August 7, 2021
For us, it has been fifty years
(Really a CO-VID fifty-one)
Since our high school graduation cheers
And our adult lives were begun.
Some of us still remained close by
And others roamed quite far away.
A few who gave elsewhere a try
Then came back here again to stay.
We’re not all here to reunite --
Others are in our memories.
Let’s chat with all those here tonight
And greet those not in reveries.
Better Poetry Thru Engineering
Rich careers as an English major,
Likely as a five foot six cager,
Too improbable for some to hope,
So they become engineers to cope.
‘Though hidden are these poetic souls,
Who choose tech skills to pay their life tolls,
They are neither lost nor fully gone
When a chance for a rhyme comes along.
We try to follow the rule of thumb --
If not clever, do not be too dumb.
For a poem, choose who will judge it --
A careful choice will let you fudge it.
Between the lab of a thought so sage
Are strewn many hurdles to the page.
In theory the concept was quite clear
As it bounced incomplete ear-to-ear.
But now one must work out all the kinks
To produce from what one merely thinks.
Consult the tables, see what can work,
Twist it to fit, and give it a jerk.
So maybe it is not what you meant,
Your original thought is quite bent.
But now you have a real thing to fly,
So put it out there - give it a try.
Armchair Olympics
Olympics: Faster, Higher, Stronger.
Us Oldsters: Smarter. Harder. Longer.
That which they seemingly do with ease --
The mere watching it can make us wheeze.
For them, it is a dreamed lifetime thrill.
For the rest, it’s hours of TV fill.
For them, goal to be victorious.
For us, it’s to feel vicarious.
The athletes have their multiple heats,
Wins, medals, and agony of defeats.
Amateur or pro, let them have fame,
Let them sweat, train and strain for their game.
Give us the five-minute frig relay,
The armchair dismount, and instant replay.
We’ll watch sponsors’ ads, consume their wares,
To do our part when Olympics airs.
A Poetic Fishing License
Is it the poet’s job to preserve yore,
To make up rhymes for Icarus and Thor?
I have never learned to read nor speak
In either ancient Latin or Greek.
And of my knowledge in bygone Old Norse
Can be said it is infinitely worse.
It is my good luck to have translations
Created by the former generations.
And for you, there’s Google to draw upon
When a myth comes from an old pantheon.
Need you know Helios from Apollo
When one is better the rhyme to follow?
Maybe my little secret I’ll tell you --
I fight through reading many poets too.
Greco-Roman, Norse, Chinese, or Bible,
With names so exotically tribal,
Without my ready wikipedia
They go in and out like diarrhea.
So maybe, poets, it isn’t our duty
To create such esoteric beauty.
Forgive the past poets and their old ways
And use the language we use nowadays.
Although, in a century, perhaps two,
They will need to look up what you wrote too.
Grandfather’s Confession
Humility is a crutch
From which I don’t suffer much.
I think others feel more pain
When I am so humbly vain.
I rap people on the shins
As my confession begins.
How will I feel my frisson
If there are none to listen?
Frisson is a thrill of fear --
In case you didn’t know, my dear.
It is not humble to brag --
It just fell out of my bag.
In my virtue I take pride --
Honest men have naught to hide.
But I’m ready to concede,
It’s not the top of my creed.
None more misled than am I
With how truth may pass me by.
The tale is so much more fun
Than what was actually done.
So if you do not believe
All the stories that I weave,
Well. that will still be alright.
You just go to sleep tonight.
Consumer’s Obligation
Many productive people toil each day
To fill our world with products of their work.
Should we feel a need to meet them midway
And do not our consumer’s duty shirk?
For what a high pile might the world become
Filled with neglected stuff from busy folks.
How soon would civilizations succumb
If none uses what industry evokes?
Perhaps you think I do nothing each day
To help our fellows in the vast mankind.
But that suggestion I strongly gainsay --
I digest plenty in stomach and mind.
But although that which I run through my guts
Soon is ready to be recycled elsewhere,
What I watch and read my purpose rebuts
And passes through me with no sign of wear.
I may even act to magnify it
And increase the load on our burdened world.
My fancy may be provoked by some wit
And idle thoughts into a response swirled.
So, I ask, if you do not mind too much,
When the productive twitch overwhelms me
And I cannot stop myself, then as such,
Forgive me for adding to your debris.
My Summer Smorgasbord
In the back I grow apples for the deer --
They inspect and expect these treats each year.
From each fruit, their first two bites are the best --
They leave what is left for my other guests.
I say my blueberries are not yet blue,
But some critters will think so before I do.
Trees and plants we think are there to landscape,
Some neighbors think are as tasty as grape.
I won’t spend time or money to plant seed
Or raise veggies that I would have to weed.
But if wild friends like perennial crops,
I’m happy whenever one comes and shops.
The Eagle Has Landed (and Left)
We went to the moon today,
‘Tho fifty-two years ago.
It’s still just as far away
As a man has put his toe.
Twenty-four circled the moon,
Ten lunanauts still survive,
All may be gone rather soon --
The youngest is eighty-five.
Twelve Apollo crew went below
And they took a stroll around.
Some photos, some rocks to stow,
And then they left lunar ground.
When will we go back again,
‘Tho some people just ask why.
Is the moon in our domain
Or is that too far to fly?
A Second Helping?
Billionaires on the moon, a new meme,
Using their cash to fuel their pipe dream.
It’s a race to buy fame
And extend their brand name
Or the latest tax evasion scheme.
My Career as a Scribe
No longer do they ask I take minutes
In the committee meetings I attend.
I guess they did not like to begin its
Next meeting with the verses which I penned.
Or maybe ‘cause I left some motion out
When for a key word I could find no rhyme.
Reading of minutes preceded a shout
That how I record was a waste of time.
Now I sit and just quietly doodle,
While others take assiduous notes.
With luck I won’t even use my noodle,
And I can pay no attention to votes.
Carnival Sins: More Ogdenish Limicks
Or Are They Just Nashty?
If you’re a manatee,
May you have vanity?
Seaweed for each meal
Would steal my sanity.
Where does lion keep his pride?
Is it gals at his side?
Most teens can tell you,
It’s manely in his hide.
Does a mule ever lust
For an ass or a bust?
Sterile is not fun --
It seems to be unjust.
Does the sloth mean to sin
When too slow to begin?
Maybe he just thinks
Exercise makes too thin.
Watch out for the giraffe
When moved by fearsome wrath.
One kick from above
Will knock you off your path.
Chimp has one but wants two,
Greedy he steals from you.
He drops what he has
And holds less when he’s through.
When whale opens his maw,
He sucks all into his craw.
To leave isn’t easy --
You can just ask Jonaw.
Ode to Ogden
Nash wrote four line limicks --
The change gave him some kicks.
Some thought them too short
But less rhyme made them quicks.
When I use Ogden’s form,
With less than is my norm,
Thoughts must be kept small --
Just a minor brainstorm.
But it’s good exercise
To hold thoughts down in size.
Concise sounds like smart
When none knows otherwise.
Over What Hill
I may be over the hill, heading down,
Although it still looks fairly far to town.
Sometimes I take a moment, a brief stop,
To wonder when it was I was on top.
So many ups and their offsetting downs
Pass by unremarked as we go our rounds.
They are simply what there is at that time --
You could buy a dozen for just a dime.
We don’t build a road, jumping peak to peak,
But it’s the easy valley path we seek.
So to build a life, maybe it’s the same --
Rate by how well, not high, we play the game.
Likely I have never been to the top,
But that will not make all my life a flop.
There will still be small bumps in my descent
To test old knees ‘fore I’m completely spent.
Star-Spangled Banter
Hey, over there. Did you see that bright flare?
All through the night, ‘twas such an awful fight.
Who’s outta sorts, bombarding some old fort?
What is their beef, to give us so much grief?
Whoa, look at that, it came through the whole spat!
With stripes and stars, that flag there is still ours.
It didn’t come down, despite bombs all around --
It's in tatters, but some holes don’t matter.
That’s the spirit, you love it or fear it,
But not defeat people who won’t retreat.
They die for cause when other folks might pause.
They will be free whatever cost may be.
So, hoist the flag and let it for us brag,
Don’t tread on us, we’re just too full of cuss,
We will rebound, you cannot keep us down --
Thanks for the shells, we'll make Liberty Bells.
Taxonomy
A hamster is not a gerbil,
‘Though a tortoise is a turtle.
Mosquitoes are what you swat at -
Hundred twelve genera for that.
If you want to classify,
Taxonomy is what you try.
You compare for what is the same
And then give them a Species name.
But now the fun has just begun --
Two's too different to be one.
They aren’t the same but share sameness;
Let us give them the same Genus.
The Genera with common traits
In a Family can be mates.
Families in the same border
Can be placed in the same Order.
The Orders can combine en masse
To make a very diverse Class.
We almost there to compile a
Joining of Classes into Phyla.
The last step is the mighty Kingdom
Under which the broad Phyla come.
Some add in sub- and super- levels --
Let’s ignore hair-splitting devils.
Ennui
(tune: Meet Me in St. Louis, Louis)
Wrap me up in weary ennui,
From out of nowhere.
Don’t tell me the world’s still shining.
I no longer care.
It seems I’ve done more than enough,
To go repeating that old stuff.
So cover me with dull ennui,
And I’ll snuggle there.
Wrap me up in weary ennui,
I am fine, I swear.
Within myself I’m unwinding
From nothing out there.
So much has passed hurly burly
And it all stopped way too early,
So I need time of listless ennui
To rise fresh somewhere.
Atrophy
Atrophy is not a prize you can win,
Although it is easy to compete in.
You just give up something you once did use,
And soon enough find it something to lose.
A muscle, a mind, or any old skill,
Can weaken and fade if too long too still.
One thing to not vanish like a rabbit,
Seems to me, is an old and bad habit.
Idling Hard
Things not worth doing may be worth not doing well;
When you are doing nothing, your best will not do.
From career you retire in idleness to dwell
Unless you find former nothings to amuse you.
Work is a labor, perhaps a burden to bear,
And yet a purpose and a process to move us.
We wish relief from exertion in our soft chair,
Until endless rest changes it to immobile truss.
Then we must idle hard to recapture what’s lost;
Do to be doing and fighting not to be done.
I need not be better than Seuss, Whitman, or Frost,
As long as I can fill the hours and still have fun.
Remembering Memorial Day
Do you remember Memorial Day
Beyond the Indy 500 Speedway?
At which soldier’s grave do you decorate,
His or her service to commemorate?
Is it merely the summer’s starting gun,
Time to shed winter and soak in some sun?
A holiday without too much holy --
Get outside and pass the ravioli!
Lest we forget, we’d once solemnly say,
Of why the sacrifices our war dead pay.
Whether their true causes were won or lost,
They did not see for what they paid the cost.
As a boy, it was the day I hated war;
It caused only grief, pain and loss, I swore.
I’d never partake, never support it --
I wished war to end if we ignored it.
Childish wishes ride on butterfly wings --
We learn to not count on such fragile things.
With distrust in peace, we prepare for worse,
Blaming human nature which is our curse.
Although they did not go to war to die,
They seldom knew what else was left to try.
Their deaths are not defeat nor victory.
But enduring steps in our history.
World Turtle Day
(May 23, 31st anniversary)
If you party with a turtle today,
Please do not ask him to come out and play.
They are rather shy and won’t take it well --
They much prefer the comfort of their shell.
If you find one crossing the street so slow,
Keep in mind, he knows where he wants to go.
You might help finish his trip to safe ground,
But, ‘though it’s closer, don’t turn him around.
This day was made to help turtles be wild,
Not the captive beloved pet for a child.
You may visit in their natural home,
Then leave it clean and let them freely roam.
Thought for the Day
He thought. She thought.
He said what he thought she thought.
She thought he said what he thought.
Whether he ought
To say what he or she thought,
All that thought has come to naught.
Like Yoda We Talk
(41st anniversary of “The Empire Strikes Back” release)
Master Yoda we celebrate today --
Syntax we torture to his way we say.
Try you not only the thing you must do --
Your tongue we untwist can when you be through
In Dagobah swamp him first we do meet --
Skywalker Yoda trains, head below feet.
Away undone raw Jedi called to fly --
Swamp back he comes in time Yoda to die.
Gone then he was, henceforth one with the Force,
Later in the past returns he, of course.
Angry Anakin he trust not to train
But rash Ben Kenobi he not restrain.
Clone Army he commands, Republic fix,
But not foresee he Order Sixty-six.
Darth Sidious he duels, but failed, he did.
Into exile he went, in swamps he hid.
There him Luke finds before in the future --
Back us Lucas takes to that adventure.
As Force spirit he pops up when scripts need --
His cryptic words haunted Jedi must heed.
With you the Force be, so powerful is,
If like Yoda you learn to use talk his.
If which words you know not sentences end with,
At least do not condescend like a Sith.
You’ve Gotta Believe?
The suspect says, “You’ve gotta believe me!”
How often have we heard that urgent plea?
“Believe me when I tell you,” starts each line,
And you wonder if that is a bad sign.
“Matters of faith,” says Preacher, so aloof,
“Do not need, indeed deny, any proof!”
It will not be seen if it’s not believed,
But in such ease, your thinking is relieved.
Decide before you know untidy facts
Which from your resolved certainty distracts.
Trust what you are told and not what you think,
And you can act in a mere eye’s hoodwink.
Maybe take your time and puzzle it out,
Explore your options, consider your doubts.
What is knowable for you to analyze?
What other things are not, you recognize.
In the end, when you are done either way,
You still will need to get on with your day.
Happy Limerick Day
There once was an Englishman named Lear
Who composed poems too witty to bear
He is responsible
For so much runcible
‘Cause it was such a good word to hear.
If you ever wrote a limerick
Thinking you had a wit oh so slick,
Likely you soon did find
And to it was resigned
Even friends think you’re a lunatic
Happy No Pants Day???
The first Saturday in May
Has been declared No Pants Day --
For me it was a surprise
To see legs before my eyes.
For some alone in a room,
Or maybe meeting on Zoom,
They like to feel a small breeze
Blowing gently through their knees.
But I like to keep pants on
Even when everyone’s gone.
Maybe shyness, I suppose,
But my legs I don’t expose.
Oh no, I’m not Donald Duck
With tail feathers to get stuck.
If you want, relax that way,
But at my waist my pants stay.
That should make everyone happier!
Facing Your Fantasies
Reality is a crutch used by some
When they cannot cope with their fantasies.
To what is done they too simply succumb,
Not the suspense and hope in the breeze.
Oh, yes, I guess, it is easy to walk
On the solid ground there under your feet.
You don’t live aloft as the soaring hawk,
So you need to look when you cross the street.
But would you fly, albeit by airplane,
If none had let the mind ride on birds’ wings?
What you think of now as real in your brain
Were, once upon a time, just fanciful things.
So, pay attention to what surrounds you,
But do not ignore what might not be there.
The dreams (and terrors) which your mind can brew
May also, someday, lead you to somewhere.
Nibbling on the Neighbor’s House
When I was a kid, in our neighborhood,
There was a house with a fence ‘round its yard.
We were told, ‘though we never understood,
That with that neighbor, we should be on guard
When parents won’t tell their children the why,
Curiosity will soon make them itch.
So explanation was for us to try --
And we decided, there must live a witch.
We had heard tales how witches lived by tricks
And of the lures which into their traps led.
Her house might look like it was made of bricks,
But we knew it was really gingerbread.
The gumdrop trees grew just beyond our reach
In the lollipop garden inside the fence.
There must be owls guarding, ready to screech,
And lawn gnomes to come alive in defense.
This challenge was in need of a great plan,
One that would require all of our whole squad.
Tom, Pete, Rick, Ashley, I guess even Stan --
A perfect assault, completely unflawed.
We would have to be fast and go at night;
Two to stay behind, protecting our backs,
Two with wiffle bats if there was a fight,
And two to gather treats to fill our sacks.
But Stan had to be home before sunset,
Tom lost his bat and could not think of where,
Rick was unsure of what share he would get,
And Pete was pretty sure he did not dare.
Ashley was still ready and raring to go,
But now that great plan seemed certain to fail.
How good were the treats we would never know,
But the gingerbread was probably stale.
Intelligent or Smart?
When they’re wrong, it’s intelligent to know,
But it’s likely smart not to tell them so.
With this you may not totally agree --
Often I wish this was a rule for me.
Falstaff says that valor needs discretion;
He preferred very passive aggression.
If nobody noticed, that would be fine;
He still knew without his butt on the line.
Should you keep your opinions to yourself;
Just bundle them and set them on the shelf?
Who needs the benefit of your learning
When it’s their beliefs you’re overturning?
Well, you may say some things are worth the fight.
Sometimes someone must set what’s wrong to right.
Perhaps that someone sometimes should be me,
But when, I would bet. you would not agree.
St. George - Patron Saint of Dragons
Saint George, they say, was known to slay
A mighty dragon in his day.
But dragons scold, those whom I polled,
I should not believe all I’m told.
Holier than this saintly man
Were not so many a Christian.
Ready with Might for what was Right,
He believed in the Holy Fight.
While in Silene, George saw a scene
With a dragon, so fierce and mean.
There a princess was in distress,
Wearing her last and finest dress.
‘Twas her duty, said this beauty,
To be sacrificial booty.
Chosen by lot, as she was taught,
Any objections were for naught.
She tread the swamp with proper pomp
To save Kingdom from Dragon’s stomp.
Alone she faced, both calm and chaste,
With none to see her be disgraced.
George intervened, stepping between
The princess and the dragon green.
From mounted stance, he drove his lance,
Smote his foe a staggering glance.
While beast was felled, down George hurdled,
Asking Princess for her girdle.
While still so weak, wrapped ‘round his beak,
This female garment made him meek.
They marched to town, all gathered 'round,
And at her feet, Dragon laid down.
But people feared, something so weird,
As Dragon tame as he appeared.
They did demand to free their land
That Dragon be killed while at hand.
It is alleged, to Christ all pledged
As George held Dragon with sword edged.
Dragon did plea, What about me?
I would also a Christian be.
I would repent, from here be sent,
And live in peace whither I went.
Mercy, new found, folks did astound --
In George's heart this plea did resound.
It was the Way, not heartless slay,
But let Dragon go free that day.
Few can know how beast kept his vow
But he stayed faithful until now.
By George, they swore, truce evermore --
That's the last dragon-human war.
Optimistic About My Past
Does what you have seen, to some degree,
Lead to what you are going to see?
Maybe less of what and more of how
Are affected by your life up to now.
Survive your lows and enjoy your highs
And the next good thing is less surprise.
Forget the good and dwell on the bad
And what comes next may well make you sad.
It does not change what did happen then
Nor prevent nor make it come again.
But what you take from experience
In attitude makes a difference.
Enjoy National Poetry Month --
It's not all that bad.
IRS Tax Day
(tune: My Way, lyrics by Paul Anka,
sung by Frank Sinatra, et al)
And now, the time is here
And so we face the final deadline.
Accounts, we’ll make all clear,
We’ll state income on the right line
We’ve made some cash, that’s sure,
We invested here and there along the way
But now, time has arrived, IRS tax day.
Expenses, we’ve had a few,
Too few to itemize deductions;
We filled forms as best we do
And made sure to subtract exemptions.
We checked math at each step,
Each detailed line in the taxing fray
And now, the money’s due, IRS tax day.
Yes, it’s the time, I’m sure you know,
When we say bye and watch our cash go.
Something to do nothing about;
Checkbooks open and we shell out.
Through all, we hear the call, IRS tax day.
We earned, saved, and invested;
Some shares gaining, others losing.
And now, dues are requested
And there seems just no refusing
To think companies do too
And yet they say, not in a shy way,
No, we do not pay on IRS tax day.
For what is a man, what has he got?
The IRS will tax the lot.
But aren’t companies people too
And should pay their taxes as they’re due
When their math’s done, their income is gone
On IRS tax day.
IRS Tax Day!
