There once was a monkey named Frank
Who loved to walk the plank
He said too many jokes
Pulled too many hoaxe-s
Ha! Ha! Ha! Then he got a good spank
Who's that monkey in front of me
I dare to hang with you on a tree
Oh! What I do? Will you do?
Together we are like glue
Is that my flea or your flea?
~ Skat ~
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2011
Brother told us sometimes that he peed
sitting down with a good book to read,
but with his ding-a-ling
he was having a fling
when we spied on him. Good book indeed!
Written 5/20/14 for Roy Jerden's Bawdy, Bawdy, Bawdy, Miss Clawdy Limerick Contest
By the way, from comments I am getting, I need to let everyone know this is simply a fabrication. My brother told us nothing, and we never spied on him. And our small bathroom shared by ten people would not have suited this purpose! hahaha
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014
I do not know?
Tempers and attitudes in our house did stay
Guess it was because we were raised that way
Things could get bad when one of us got mad
If you escaped unhurt, then be really glad
For the attitudes would flare
And tempers would rage
We were all quite violent for our age
With our fists our problems were solved
I know that may sound unorthodox to all
But in our home, an evil ruled
In being mean, we were schooled
My brother and sister were taught well
Mess with them and you’ll pay hell
One day while they were playing together
Sitting by the stove because of cold weather
My brother had taken sis’s doll away
With her, this was not how to play
She got mad and started to cry
My brother laughed as he watched her whine
Well then she thought that little brat
If he wants to fight, then I’ll just fight back
So into the ashes from under the stove
She reached in and pulled out a bolt
A bolt from a rail road tie I believe
And trust me when I say they’re big
She turned around and without a word
A big loud crack from his head could be heard
Golden blonde hair now soaked with blood
I had watched from where I stood
This little girl with such cute curls
Has proven that she’ll rock your world
If you mess with her or her dolls
You’d better run at least three miles
For her revenge is not too good
My brother knows and this is understood
For underneath that cute exterior
Is the soul of a very brave warrior
Copyright © Christina Fell | Year Posted 2005
(and long brown stockings)
I detest these stockings,
they're coarse, brown and ugly.
I hate the garters more;
elastic circles that cut off
circulation and fail to halt
the laddering down my skinny legs.
If only . . . I picture myself
in warm jeans and no teasing
from Tommy Rogers.
I put the garters to better use,
roll the repulsive stockings
down around my ankles.
"Who gave you
jointed toothpicks for legs?"
I lost it.
Now, Tommy has a black eye
and my nose is in the corner.
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014
He starts singing songs of Ireland and we are home in a jiffy
"What's a jiffy," my mother wonders
"Guess where we went Granny?"
"I don't know but I have a feeling you are gonna tell me," answers my grandmother
"And Don't call me Granny!"
"We went to church so Poppy could ask secret questions."
"The priest gave Poppy a shot and a beer and Poppy sent me next store and he gave me money for taffy."
"He told me not to tell anyone especially you about the priest cause it's only for the priests ears."
"He said God would take away taffy and I'd never get another goodie and God would strike me dead if I told."
"So I can't tell anyone."
"He did," and she starts yelling and grabs a weapon,"what kind of idiot would be scaring a little child?"
Granny is standing on Poppy's toes and and asking him questions of where he'd been and getting a sniff of his breath
"So what did you tell the priest and him giving you consolation and a shot and beer."
"That little rat ," and thinks about the money for candy
Later, Granny is chasing Poppy with that big iron frying pan and poppy running and singing
"In Heaven they have no beer, that's why we drink it here."
"You damn fool I'm gonna bust you in the head, "and throws the pan at his head
Cousin Francis has bill collectors come to the house looking for him
Granny was four foot seven inches and she starts kicking him in the shin
My Mother grabs his Dick Tracy hat and she jumps on it and flattens it
I ask my mom where I was when this happened and she pauses
" You were in Heaven Patrick waiting with your brother!"
The truancy officers bang on the door and want to know where Uncle Charles is
Granny shrugs and says, "He is upstairs and the sound of the window going up sounds
They all run upstairs and see Uncle sliding down the tree and running as fast as his
seven year legs can move
He comes home later that evening holding a goose under his arm
And Poppy has a soft-boiled goose egg for breakfast every morning
I ask Uncle what happened to that goose and He said,"one day he came home and
they had chicken for dinner."
And Poppy was gone to heaven to get me and my brother ready Mom says
And Granny sits my brother and me on her lap and says,"you two knuckleheads listen up."
"This is very important so don't forget it."
"Treat people the way you want to be treated, because you never know who is going to hand you your last glass of water"
Copyright © Patrick Cornwall | Year Posted 2012
Farm boys, farm boys, go and do your chores
Better take your hat for it’s sunny out-of-doors
Farm boys, farm boys, gotta milk those cows
Milk-em twice a day and feed the hungry sows
Make your mother butter in the butter churn
Argue with your brother when you think it’s not your turn
Measure off the distance you both will have to run
Where it is you’ll need to go to get the milking done
Toe the mark to challenge your brother at the gate
Divvy up the pails to balance out the weight
Farm boys being farm boys down there on the farm
And you’ll milk the cows if I beat you to the barn
Copyright © richard karr | Year Posted 2012
At the final stroking of saint Halloween eve, it seems not so long ago,
That my trusty SUV, transport vehicle unceremoniously broke down,
Right outside the local pet cemetery, what a marvelous place to
Spend the spookiest night of the year, changing a flat tire right next
Door to the graveyard of the barking dead!
Ha, ha I thought to myself these children of the night better be at
Rest, I’m just not in the mood for playing fetch the bone, with
Any undead beasties tonight!
That’s when I heard a hellish sound, coming from this unconsecrated
Ground of Fido’s lost and found burial mounds, it started out low,
But grew with every shrill passing moment, I dropped the jack,
Picked up my throbbing heart, and became brave Balto of the
Polar North fame!
Inch by inch I approached, these iron bars gates that which were
Oddly left Unlocked, approaching the very center I stopped dead
Within my tracks, just as metal basketball rolled at my very feet,
Within two red glowing eyes meant mine, what the #### ####,
Is this thing, this it within a bob-wire metal shell?
It had very little hair, more like a grizzly patch here and there,
A ratty tail like a mouse, but what really caught my attention
The most was its sharp talon like claws, but it cried so, my
Mother instinct overrode my sinus of reasoning, it’s helpless,
Tender howling touched the darkness of my deepest Edger
Allen soul, so I picked it up, and took it home!
Now, now I told it, don’t be afraid, I’ll cut you free from
Your iron cage, it seemed to understand me in dark
Level that I can’t explain, my little creepy dude,
By the way such became his name, my undead pet
From the realm of the unknown!
It growled and hissed at me at first, almost nipping
At my bare fingertips, I’ll have none of that biting
Business, I told it just be patient I’ll have you out
In just a few minutes!
At long last it burst free, running attempting to
Flee far away from me, but I was quicker than it,
This terrifying thing, that captured me with it’s
Now my little creature feature, you need a bath
It shivered at the mention of the word, meaning clean!
But it had a very foul musty odor of brimstone, and
Rotten fleshy decay, into a vat of Mr. Bubbles it so went,
This it thing, my creepy little dude!
After I brushed and towel him off, I feed him a mushy
Mush of oatmeal and milk, but he spit it at me, “ok what
Does a thing like you eat than,” I asked!
The creature than went to my fridge just as if it were
The most natural thing in the world to do, grabbed a
Bottle of spuds suds, popped the cork, and sat next to
The old boo tube, now just you wait a cotton picking
Minute, I thought to myself, no way!
It than snatched a slice of day old pizza from a nasty,
Cardboard box sitting in my waste paper bin, gobbled
It down in a moment, than burped out soundly,
It’s gratifications satisfaction!
The whole time I’m wondering what the #### did I bring
Home, this it thing, that now reminds me of my ex-husband,
Beer, pizza, and TV burping, but just as I was thinking about
Taking it to the dead creature’s animal shelter, it captured
My inner heart all over again, in a flick of my heart
It had nestled in my lap, growling in a purr, than
Tenderly clawing at my tummy, it snoozed!
From that point on it this thing, fondly known as
My creepy little dude, could do no wrong in my eyes,
It stayed just the same size, even though it eat night
And day, it drooled on everything, from the baseboards
To the chandler but I didn’t care, for he was my
Creepy little dude!
Than the next Halloween night it happened,
I got a knock at my pantry door, it was two
Creatures, a female werewolf, and a male
Choapa Cobra, excuse us Miss Have you seen,
A metal basinet bob wire ball?
My little creepy dude ran passed me, in a flash yelled momma,
And the jig was up, these unusual parents thanked me,
Hugged their baby and left, I never saw the it thing again
After that, my little creepy dude was gone forever!
But I’ll never forget, what happened not so long ago,
On a Halloween night, or my treasured pet, the it thing,
Known as my little creepy dude!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
DEDICATED TO BEN STRONG-THE ORIGINAL CREEPY DUDE
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015
Bigfoot had a bubbling baby brother—
They labeled him "lively little foot!"
Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr | Year Posted 2010
Everyone is dressed just right,
with our smiles slapped on tight,
we are having a family dinner.
The mood is tense,
yet we have to make sense,
and we can always talk about the weather.
We blow kisses and show our love,
everything is just right.
We shower praises over each other,
and pray that the night is over without a flight.
Ignore the bitter-in-law,
she needs some sugar.
She vowed to deny herself happiness,
since she lost her lover.
Pay attention to the chatty uncle.
He claims to be rich although he eats like a savage.
just nod your head and seem interested,
and hope the topic does not turn to marriage.
Sit away from the young brother,
once an answer to his question, he is on to another.
To the old man he asks,"So what do you do?"
and to the orphan child,"Where is your mother?"
The room is beautiful, the food is delicious,
a night with our near and dear.
This could well be the perfect family dinner,
but only the flowers in the room seem real.
Copyright © Karan Patade | Year Posted 2013
Geordie is ma brother; some say he is a hero!
Me, ah ken better an’ his rating’s close tae zero!
He likes tae hog the flair wi’ jokes oh say dreary’
Efter twenty meenits we grow a wee tadge weary.
He has a better side but it’s hidden oot o’ sight,
An’ onything he says, Ye’ve guessed, he is ayewis right!
Ah’m no sayin’ he is stoopid, that wid be unkind;
Aw he really needs is a kick up his behind.
Hooever, he’s ma brither sae ah’m gi’en’ him some flack;
Ah’m share that when he reads this he’ll gi’e me plenty back:
Ah suppose ah really like him, weel jist a tiny bit,
Even wi’ his awfy childish doonbeat wit!
Ah should stope ma ramblin’s an tell ye somethin’ guid!
It isna really true that his heed is made o’ wid;
Naw, he’s truly brilliant….when he is far awa’,
An’ talkin’ oan the telephone he’s like a babblin’ Craw.
AYE FOLKS THAT’S MA BRITHER!!!!!! An’ ah love him!
Copyright © Robert Davidson | Year Posted 2013
My name is Mario and I have an ingrate for a brother, his name is Luigi.
Even though our games are in my name, he's always had it better than me.
He needs to be taught a lesson and it will be left up to me to teach.
The sorry bastard takes everything, he even married Princess Peach.
He always got all of the attention from our father and mother.
Now he wants our games to be called the Super Luigi Brothers.
He went over my head and asked Nintendo to change the title.
I'm so pissed off at him that I'm starting to feel homicidal.
I sued Hollywood Pictures in 1993 because they did something that really made me mad.
When they filmed the Super Mario Bros. Movie, they made me old enough to be Luigi's Dad.
I deserve seniority because I've been in more Nintendo games than Luigi.
I was in Donkey Kong and years later I was in Mike Tyson's Punch-Out as the referee.
Luigi had better learn that I will not take his sass.
If he doesn't shape up, I'm going to kick his Italian ass!
(This poem was inspired by the Super Mario Bros. Games.)
Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2014
A boy asked his dad, “What the elections are for, after all, Dad?”
The dad replied,” I have the money, I’m manager of you all, Lad?”
All money I have, give it to your mom so she is the Government
Maid, a working class, you the people, your brother commitment”
The boy woke up as baby brother soiled diapers that night
Went to his mom’s room and found her alone asleep tight.
So he went to maid’s room, found his Dad in bed with her
The angry boy banged on the door but nobody did bother
The next day he said to his dad that he has been fully fed,
You explain it to me son, in your own words, asked his Dad.
“The management is screwing, the government asleep tight
The people are ignored and the commitment not in sight”.
Second place winner in
Contest: Election Humor by Carolyn devonshire
Seventh place win in P.d.'s contest June'11
Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta | Year Posted 2010
He was the eldest,
tall, handsome, all knowing
(by his own assessment).
He could roll a ‘guide and wheel’
all the way to school
without a stop. That wheel
kept rolling as if by magic.
He could shimmy up a tree
in search of wild grapes.
He could swim in deep water,
catch snakes for pets.
He could hunt squirrels with Dad,
shoot a 22 rifle.
He could milk a cow,
hitch a horse to the wagon.
He could zing you, square on,
with a dry corn cob.
He could run barefoot
through woods, creeks, fields,
and over dirt roads.
But he missed the rafter,
fell through to the floor below,
knocked himself out cold,
chasing his cat through the attic.
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014
(Good Advice Spurned)
Grandmother packed a picnic lunch.
Brother, sister, and I, with two uncles
traipsed into the woods,
in search of adventure.
We found it.
We ate our picnic lunch, sitting
on a fallen tree, spanning the creek.
We sampled “Rabbit Ice,” formed
on weeds, hugging the stems
in smooth, thin white curls.
We drank creek water in cupped hands,
so cold, we shivered.
“Let’s build a fire,” my brother said.
Uncle Larry cautioned, “You’d better not.
You’ll set the field on fire.”
We built the fire,
warmed our cold hands.
As the circle of fire began to spread,
we beat it with branches,
water carried from the creek in our hats.
Undaunted, the fire ate up the dry grass,
spreading like a pond ripple
from a rock thrown in.
Uncle Larry refused to join
our efforts to ‘beat out’ the fire.
He stood, callously laughing
at our futile efforts.
The entire field burned.
We worried all afternoon.
What would Granddad say,
when he saw the black field
from the kitchen window?
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014
< amidst afternoon's summer's pose / nap
are nana's two little handsome chaps
logan and just lucas
bonded secured by trust
brotherly love now don't make me snap
Written By Katherine Stella 5/15/11
Entry For Miranda Lambert's
Brotherly Love Contest
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2011
It’s My Birthday
It’s my birthday… I look out the window there is no one for me owe so, owe so lonely poor me .
It’s my birthday… you surprise me, with a Barber-Q grill with a cooler that chills with a grin we show white grills.
Happy Birthday… it’s my Birthday I am still waiting, it is almost the end of my the day, just waiting on you to wish me a happy birthday which, well make my day.
It’s my birthday…you do not remember that day, can we go out for we can remember that day?
It’s my birthday… I can share it or alone, some share it with a twin, or with a friend and the ones who stay to the ends like a good friend.
It my birthday… its looks like another day to me I just need someone or something to comfort with me a room full of women and with hand full men, a juice in cup, juice in glass, with a sweet lady and grill on cut grass that may make every day feel like my birthday, with a touch of class.
It’s your birthday… it’s your birthday you should all-ways win on your birthday, if do not have a mate you sneak and go on second party date form those who may player hate.
Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday! it comes and go, I see you come through, looking out my window with a hand full company that is what a party really should need, yes it’s sweet, sweet with music and sweet with treats or it must be the money, or food, or brinks, or just me.
Poetry 7/7/12 by author Keith Kadell
Copyright © Keith Relf | Year Posted 2012
I do not know?
WHY ARE CHURCH DOORS LOCKED?
I have been a member for many years. I attend when ever I can. I pray and pay.
I guess, I took it for granted, but not anymore. I must stand up for all that want to know. For all that need to know. No! I am not a hero, but I would like to know.
There was a time in my youth, when it was un-thinkable to lock a church door. Did congress pass a law, while I was sleeping? Should I call the sheriff? Why didn’t the pastor tell me? Does he know? Did he lock the front door, side door, and even the back door? Does God know, the doors at the church are locked? Saints, we are in big trouble.
Okay! Let’s get serious. Are you trying to keep something locked out? Are you trying to keep something locked in? This could be a sin. There are two individuals in the congregation that I can ask. They certainly must know answer. After all, their name is Brother Lock and Brother Smith. Yes! The Lock Smith Brothers.
Now if the Devil is locked up, when I leave church, I’m okay with that. You say, I should not worry about this. Well! It is now at the top my list. I want to know more. It’s time to stop church crime.
Copyright © Franklin Goode | Year Posted 2012
like a snail and leaves a trail.
My baby brother.
Copyright © Darlene Gifford | Year Posted 2015
My brother was first at the table
to pile six pancakes on his plate.
I don’t know how he stayed so skinny
given the enormous amount that he ate.
My daddy had made the hot syrup
from white sugar or so he had thought.
After one bite my brother was choking,
hair rising as though he’s besot.
Then Dad yelled ,”Don’t pour the syrup.
Instead of sugar, I grabbed Epsom Salt. "
Won No. 5
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2011
Naughty little brother hitting people just for fun,
Soppy little sister snuggles up to harassed mum,
While other sister Lesley thinks she’s in a royal court,
And “Ten Ton Tim” throws the tennis balls he’s bought,
One hits little Lesley on the head with quite a force,
She storms off to her room, in a nark again of course,
She slams the door behind her once she’s made her way upstairs,
And then there’s the twins, I know that trouble comes in pairs,
Michael’s riding Richard with his undies on his head,
While Craig from down the road is wearing swimming trunks instead,
“Ten Ton Tim” then offers the other boys a fight,
One which probably won’t finish until very late at night
“You and Craig onto me!”; a tempting offer to the boys,
Who start to rush towards him brandishing their army-toys,
Lesley reappears from the dark behind the door,
Intending not carry on moaning any more,
Dad is quite sensible at stays at work ‘til dark,
I think it’s more crowded here than in Noah’s Ark.
Mother calls for quite but the noise just carries on,
‘Til Craig suggests they go to his and then the rabble’s gone!
(Written at the age of 9 or 10)
Copyright © Sharon Smith | Year Posted 2012
< once popped cork on bottle of red wine
hit brother in eye oh how it did shine
seen him go pick up bat
boy did I ever scat
right to canadian's boarder line
feeling like her dansel in-distress
along came three county mounties best
asked if nipping bottle
at fast paces throttle
answered yes now did I pass your test
tossed in pokie for now twenty days
poor ole missy now won't and get laid
darn brother wins again
wearing smitten hugh grin
wait until that welt begins to fade
Entry For Francine Robert's
Bottle Of Wine
Limericks Only Contest
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2011
Leany Reany was so cleany,
She bathed five times a day,
She washed herself with ropey soapy
After every little play.
Dirty Burty was so shirty
When he had to take a shower,
He washed himself with muddy buddy,
Never smelling like a flower.
-more poems like this can be found at:
Copyright © john williams | Year Posted 2015
I was twelve years old, it was one Halloween night
My brother was driving me in his old beat up car
He had been told to take care, and keep me in sight
He sighed, threw up his hands, and gave me "that" glare!
We drove awhile...it was cold, spooky and dark
Instead of trick or treating, we continued our ride
In front of his best friend's house, he quickly parked
Told me to stay put in the car...then went on inside
I sat a bit afraid...then out of the dark, the devil said Boo to me!!!
Looked into the window!! ..I screamed, grabbed the keys...threw a fit, locked the doors
The devil was my brother.......all dressed up...he had tiptoed through trees!
His friend was laughing hysterically.....they thought they had scored!!
What they didn't know.... when I had taken the keys
I'd tossed them out of the window and into the leaves!!
(A true story!!
ps...After an hour or so, on hands and knees looking for the keys
we found them finally.................and yes!! He finally took me trick-or-treating!
We are still laughing over this story, many years later!
Actually, he is was and is a terrific brother, by the way,
but still throws up his hands occasionally
and gives me "that" glare..Lol!!)
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2010
Beneath a flag of red and white
A soldier quietly lies,
His mother sits just to his right
Tears falling from her eyes.
Brothers lie all laid in rows
Around his final bed,
A cross for each one shows
Their names above their heads.
Seven more stand by his side
With rifles standing tall,
Dressed in honor, feeling pride
For this brother who gave all.
One more stands by his feet
A bugle in his hand,
Plays that melody so sweet
Of taps now for this man.
Two more now step up to fold
Old Glory from her pall,
And place it in Mom's hand to hold
A present from us all.
Ten brothers stand by this man's grave
With respect in just suffice,
For this soldier who proudly gave
His life for freedom's price.
Ten brothers came to send him on
To take his final station,
But thousands more sit at home
Giving thanks with the entire nation.
Somewhere, lying overseas
The man who took this life,
Ten buzzards now has he
Giving thanks at his grave site!
Timothy I. Brumley
Copyright © Timothy Brumley | Year Posted 2010
Sister wife and Uncle brother,
didn't really like each other,
so they left it up to me,
which one I liked the best you see.
Sister wife, now she could cook,
not too bad with line and hook,
but Uncle brother had good traits,
why he could name all 40 states!
Both of them were good in bed,
least that's what Cousin mommy said,
but Sister wife she had one ace,
and that there was her purty face.
Her eyes are green, and blue and brown,
one of them looks off toward town,
and she has no hair beneath,
her lovely, crooked yellow teeth.
Uncle brother, he's my friend,
I'll love him to the very end,
but he stops to scratch his britches,
'cause he says it always itches.
It is so embarrassing,
to watch him scratching at that thing,
but what am I supposed to do,
when Sister wife helps scratch it too?
Sister wife and Uncle brother,
suddenly they like each other!
I guess it's just a lucky me,
that has a great big family!
Copyright © Curt Mongold | Year Posted 2008
I do not know?
Under my 8 year old brothers bed
lies my dog chewed Barbie, no sign of her head
a faded Snoopy cartoon, deflated yellow Birthday balloon
and one stuffed zoo animal baboon
Romote toy car from Uncle Tom
Cassette of Raffi, sing-a-long songs
half a fruit roll-up, and a beat up
A wooden dream catcher, made in Summer camp
his moon and star shaped night lamp
one lonely brown button from his Winter coat
A crumpled crayon castle drawing, complete with
an alligator filled moat
A real rabbits foot, for luck, from Grandpa Mack
half a fourth of July sparkler, old fashioned box of jacks
glass jelly jars of grass, sticks, leaves, assorted bugs
science fair worm farm living in moms old Garden jug
Under my 8 year old brothers bed
it has to be said, if you find yourself lost
you are as good
Copyright © Heather Hill | Year Posted 2010
Hey! I am your long lost brother
Remember the one who moved over sea?
The one who always tormented you,
Made you fall and graze your knee.
The one who pulled the heads of your dollies,
Set fire to your dolls house
The one who accidentally while you were out
Killed your little pet mouse.
The one who called you silly names,
And sniggered at your fashion trends
The one who always went out of his way
To embarrass you in front of your friends
The one who told you fairies weren’t real
Until you cried and would then still persist
The one who broke your childhood dreams
When they told you Santa also didn't exist
Yes, I am your long lost brother
You know, the one who caused you great pain?
The one you really, really hoped
You would never see again
Copyright © Gary Wayne Hill | Year Posted 2013
My brother played a dirty trick on me that was nasty to do.
Before I put on a Gorilla mask, he filled it with Super Glue.
I've tried and tried to pull this mask off but it's stuck.
I've been wearing it for three years, I'm out of luck.
Now I have the body of a man and the head of an ape.
When people see me, they think I'm a Killer Gorilla freak and they're desperate to escape.
When President Obama saw me, the chicken got scared and ran.
I'm a Human Being, I'm getting tired of being called a Gorilla-Man!
Some Carnival people came to my house and they asked me to be one of their freaks.
I hit them so hard that their jaws had to be wired shut, now none of them can speak.
Now my brother is blind, I got even with the creep.
I Super Glued his eyes shut while he was asleep.
(This is a fictional poem)
Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2014
I have an ant farm and the ant that lives there works very hard,
He makes sure that his house is always neat and so is his yard.
When I stop by to look in on him I can see he loves me oh so much,
And I always want to keep him safe so on to him tightly I will clutch.
One day my brother asked me how I know just what he thinks of me,
I told him put my ant it to the test then he would also see.
So my brother got out a magnifying glass to get a better look,
In the light the heat built up and my poor ant began to cook.
My brother burnt down his house with his whole ant family,
As well as everything my ant had ever built as near as I could see.
Then the other farmer ants came to comfort their little friend,
And to see what he had done wrong in hopes that they’d transcend.
My ant’s wife said he had it coming and of the reasons she’d made a list,
It made my ant so mad at me that he stood up and shook his four ant fists.
Here is the lesson that I learned, I hope that I’m not being too verbose,
If you want to know how someone thinks don’t look at them too close.
When you put them under the microscope their faults are out of scale,
And in the end they’ll have no other choice but in your eyes to fail.
Copyright © Tony Lane | Year Posted 2011
While doing sit-ups,
My big, arrogant brother stomps on my feet
“That burns my feet, bro!!”
While in recital,
My oldest brother motions to stop clapping
…My hands are red, bro…
Copyright © J. W. Earnings | Year Posted 2011