A little grey mouse
snuck into the house
to get himself out of the cold.
Then the house cat
Who saw where he sat
pursued him I am told.
The lazy old dog
who sleeps like log
was startled by the chase,
So she woke up
her own small pup
and they joined in the race.
My sister the baby
decided that maybe
she would give it a try,
She started a spat
And was scratched by the cat
and then she started to cry.
That’s when mom
called to Uncle Tom
to come and lend a hand,
With a straw broom
mom circled the room
knocking plants from off a stand.
In came my dad
and he was quite mad
because the house was in disarray
He was vexed
with what happened next
But it happened just this way.
Our two brave bowsers
chased the mouse up dad’s trousers
He thought he’d be safe in there.
Until Dad started to dance
with the mouse in his pants
Then he jumped up on a kitchen chair.
Mom smacked dad’s seat
and then came a repeat
And the mouse climbed out of his pocket.
Unseen by all
he started to crawl
into the wall through an open socket.
Later that night,
With no one in sight,
I put out a nut for the little mouse.
I had no hate toward him,
And I tried to reward him.
Even if he was trapped inside our house.
I told him my name,
And he did the same,
Then he stuffed the nut into his cheeks.
He said thanks for the food,
And I don’t mean to be rude,
But that was the most fun that I’ve had in weeks.
Copyright © Tony Lane
Where has dad gone, momma dear?
Hush, my little lamb.
Your dad's gone to the thicket dear
And mad old Abraham
That man went early this grim morn, and took his sharpened knife
And with him took his own first born, to offer up his life
With servants and with firewood, both, they journeyed to Moriah
And on the hillside there they built an altar and a fire
And Isaac, when he heard the plan, went willingly, it's odd
That he should let that daft old man, so worship his cruel god.
Your father, he was passing by, and heard but could not see
And foolishly could not deny his curiosity
So closer did your father scramble peering through the thorns
Unaware of how the brambles tangled with his horns
Just to see a crazy man who planned to kill his kin
Your father did not understand the danger he was in
For then again that mad old man started hearing voices
His god was speaking to the loon and giving him new choices
And so his plan to slay the boy came about to falter
And Abraham, he took your pa and dragged him to the altar
But that was never fair, mama, can you tell me why
When Isaac he was all prepared and well prepared to die
And all had been decided on, so what cruel trick mama
Was played upon that grand old ram, who was my own papa?
Life is not fair, my little lamb, nor is it like to change
And fate plays tricks on all of us, both sinister and strange
So you take care, my little lamb, with this advice from me
Do not visit places where you know you should not be
The moral of this story dear, is take heed of the odds
And stay away from two-leggies worshipping their gods
Copyright © Lee Leon
Yup, just like this. This is how dad told us about the wonders of life. No eye contact at all.
One day my father told his four sons to climb into the car,
He wouldn’t tell us where we were going just that it wasn’t far.
I sat in the front next to dad the other three sat in back,
Boys it’s time we had a talk about a subject that you lack.
I want to talk to the four of you about something that’s called sex,
Collectively we held our breath because of the horror that came next.
I am sure that you have started to notice there’s a difference in girls,
Their bodies are soft, curvy and round and their hair looks good in curls.
I promised that I had taken some notice, there was no need for him to fear,
Because I was now sixteen years old and had been dating for over a year.
Then this talk is for the benefit of the younger ones in the back,
Be helpful and sit quietly and don’t give me anymore of your flack.
This trip in the car with him was the longest that could ever be,
Then he asked, “Can you define ridged for your brothers and me?”
The only thing that I could imagine worse than his talk selection,
Was when he extended his left arm in order to demonstrate an erection.
It hung flaccid out the window but slowly it started to rise,
Until it pointed straight to the left, a stiff arm, hard on prize.
Out the window the visual aid of my dad’s left arm boner,
Made the guy behind us think that we were turning at each corner.
As we returned to home dad said that mom had found some books,
They had information with helpful pictures and we should take a look.
From this whole experience there was something for me to learn,
Sometimes I’ll turn to my wife at night and signal for a turn.
Copyright © Tony Lane
Dad is not perfect, but, a wonderful man;
He’s honored by his wife, daughter and son.
Whether a naughty girl or an angelic boy,
He’s ready to buy a gift or make a toy.
Dad is whom you want to be with,
When you’re down or you’re in need.
He is always there for you, giving hope;
And loses his temper when you’re in dope.
Dad was born, indeed, to make us laugh;
Especially, when he shares his funny stuff.
In one’s heart, he leaves his memories;
A true friend, a brother, a man of peace.
So this is what dad means to me;
Am I ready for this? Let me see.
Hmm, I’m thinking; nope, I pass.
I’m old, just 90. You boys don’t rush.
Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago
My heritage is a mixture
Of backgrounds. Let's start on
My Dad's side of the family.
My Dad's mom is Irish and English.
My Dad's dad is Irish and German.
My Mom's mom is Scottish and Irish.
My Mom's dad is blood Hungarian.
So in other words,
I'm a mutt! or as others say,
Copyright © Sarah Cassleman
September I gazed outside with unease
When I heard it will fall in the sixties.
Then dad said we’ll soon be losing degrees;
To me these things sounded like tragedies.
Why do we have say bye to degrees?
I never knew they were our enemies.
Tell me the truth ‘cause I hate when you tease.
I’m begging you, dad, I need to know please?
I dreamed degrees were no bigger than fleas
That could saddle up on the backs of bees,
And buzz along in rows of twos and threes
Then vanish amongst the tallest of trees.
Dad replied, you’ll learn it all by degrees,
So I gave up on him and asked Louise
To see if she knew much about degrees.
My sister said they’re in geometry.
She drew a large L, and said this big cheese
Is a right angle; called ninety degrees.
Angles take their shape by connecting these
Points together, denoted with ABC’s.
Right angles were proved by Isosceles,
And two of them are complimentary.
Whatever this had to do with degrees
Was another of life’s big mysteries.
I pictured angles of many degrees
Popping out from books of geometry.
As gulls that appear as a flock of vees
Flying above all of the seven seas.
I then asked my mom, can you help me please
Concerning my questions about degrees?
Sure, hon, she said, see those sugar cookies
They baked at three hundred fifty degrees.
Oh my goodness mom, you say that all these
Are as hot as the sun without a breeze?
Of course not, silly, there only cookies;
They’re made to raise money for charities.
I thought if the sun was made of cookies?
Of course I’d prefer that better than peas.
But anyways, would the universe freeze?
Whether out of cookies, or peas, or cheese?
Since I was still puzzled about degrees
I ran back upstairs, with difficulties.
Knowing my brother was sick with disease,
I crawled in his room on both hands and knees.
Dad was there too, but his face showed worries
Tom’s temp reached over one hundred degrees.
So I touched his forehead, and thought, oh jeez
It would melt bowls of M&M candies.
I imagined if Tom had to sneeze,
Would the juice burn through the land and seas?
And make it all the way to the Chinese;
Would it infect all their towns and cities?
To Dad’s home office I went ill at ease
And when dad came in I asked him if he’s
Going to lower Tom’s hundred degrees?
Dad said don’t worry, he has expertise.
He showed me one of his MD degrees
That you can earn at Universities.
He said if Tom rests and catches some zees
He’ll soon be totally free of disease.
I thought instead of Universities
I’d join the circus and learn the trapeze,
Or perhaps be a clown so that I can squeeze
Into a small car that runs without keys.
I think on that day I learned by degrees
That they can cook, and measure disease.
Fit on the wall, are in geometry
Yet I’m perplexed to the umpteenth degree.
Copyright © David Fisher
Written 7 March 2014
Bruce and Jennie, both were 10,
Had been playmates all their lives.
One day, Bruce proclaimed,
“Jennie… most good men have wives.”
He professed his love for her.
Jennie said she loved him too.
They decided that getting married
Was ‘the right thing’ to do.
So, Bruce went to speak to her father,
Who was doing yard work at the time.
“May I speak to you, Mr. Johnson?”
“Sure, Bruce. What’s on your mind?”
“Sir, I love your Jennie;
And Jennie, she loves me;
But we need your permission
To be married… to be “We.”
Impressed by Bruce’s courage,
He knew this confrontation must be tough.
He smiled and asked, “Bruce, are you sure
You love my daughter enough?”
Bruce’s face became stern, he said,
“Mr. Johnson, let me tell you…
I love Jennie so much…and she loves me.
We’re both sure it’s the right thing to do.”
He was moved by Bruce’s ardor,
But permission was not his to give.
So, quick as flash, he responded,
“But Bruce…where will you live?”
“Sir, I measured her room;
Then I measured mine.
Hers is 40 percent bigger.
We’ll live there. We’ll be fine.
If we have extra stuff,
We’ll keep that in my room.
We’ll keep our places neat and tidy.
You won’t even need a broom.
And both our parents can save money
On babysitters too.
Even if you do things on the same night,
You’ll only need one sitter, not two.”
Mr. Johnson was impressed with his logic,
But this marriage idea was no longer funny.
He smiled and said, “That’s good thinking, Bruce;
But what are you gonna do for money?
“Why, Mr. Johnson, I get twelve-fifty a week allowance;
And let me remind you, Jennie also gets ten.
Throw in our birthdays and Christmas cash….
Why, we might even have money to lend.”
Desperate now, he thought,
“Next, I guess they’ll want a car.”
Then he asked, “But Bruce, what if you have kids?”
"Aawww," blushed Bruce... “We’ve been lucky so far.”
Copyright © Robert Candler
The HR person called me in… I was turning gray… Was he even twenty-one?
I wondered if the interview would go well, as he did fung shui the chairs around.
Offered a caramel expresso mocha late decaf, I told him I took my coffee black.
Alas my friend, it got progressively worse, this: our proverbial generational gap.
He asked me to explain, how I’d be the best personnel fit, for this illustrious job.
Ah! Experience I had in abounds, as I pulled out a 100-page resume, neatly bound.
That question, had me off and running, but I knew, I was in some trouble when…
I saw his eyes glaze over, and he ask me, ‘Have we made it into space yet?’
He smirked, when he ask, about ‘Recent’ applicable education, in the last 5 years.
I condensed my course certifications till he nearly fell off, his crazy chair, my dear!
He ask the projects worked on, unfortunately, all were government secret classified.
So I added some of the numerous skills, that had been applied, till he almost cried.
I started with the job descriptions, but he didn’t like… that the names were so long.
And the abbreviations normally used, in this line of work, almost blew his mind.
Though I also got the feeling, he may have thought that I’d finally, lost mine, since…
My accomplishments had scads of stuff he’d never, ever, be able to comprehend...
You know, ‘things’ about the job, HR doesn’t care about or bother to be clued in.
Luckily all was saved, before the interviewers’ jaw, hit the floor around his chair.
Using a power point presentation, illustrations appeared, giving him a better clue.
I even gave him a burned DVD, set to the music of ‘Live Free or Die Hard’, too.
He ask about items, he’d never heard of, you know, from way before he was born.
But got the feeling he’d be more attentive, talking about a computer game going on.
I didn’t lie about a thing, it’s not my fault some Companies are now closed down!
But I felt things were somewhat a success, as security finally came to lead me out…
Unfortunately, in the end, they hired a young one, and I couldn’t understand why.
He was a quiet, little, studious kid, who didn’t say a thing, but had stars in his eyes.
He didn’t understand any of the work involved, but his pay would be next to none.
But that's whom they got: until that company closed for work that couldn’t be done.
All because the HR Department didn't help them get the workers they did need.
I became self-employed, developing computer games, all the rage! Oh So Sweet!
Yes, I became a millionaire, with my own company, without HR, anywhere seen!
Now, we develop rockets to go into space, where I felt, that HR person should be.
Dedicated to all those Middle aged people stressed out after looking for a job.
Wife and Hubby Collaboration
Copyright © Carol Eastman
Otay! I’m an alien, toe what?
I used to wive on the pwanet Pwuto
Too told! TOE, I fwew to the moon
BOOOW-ING! (Eveeting too white!)
Toe I fwuttered down to Waw Tageles
Where I betame a BIG movie tar
Dey trew a party for my pwemier
but a bwack fuwwy fewine cwashed it!
Yep, I taw dat puddy-tat teak in too
Den he tunned me wit his tun gun!
Wucky for me, I dot away tumhow
Now I got dis widdle speech intetiment…
PS: Ewmer Fudd and me have become wather cwose since then because he had a
similar expewience when Bugs Bunny conked him on the head with an oversized
Copyright © Tim Ryerson
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
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
My daddy played a trick on me
When I was just a tike
Asleep; I was in dreamland town
A 'riding on my bike
And suddenly! I hear a noise
A clanging sound it seems
It was my dad with pots in hand
He's banging on the beams
He's shouting out "wake up, wake up"
We're getting in the ride
It's time to go, no time to waste
We've got to get outside!
There's bees in here, they're everywhere
They're stinging all they see
Get in those clothes, hitch up your boots
It's time for us to flee!
So up I jump, still in a daze
What happened to my bike?
Where are my clothes, can't find my boots
Oh my, this I don't like
We run outside, hey - where's the car
Dad woke us up you know
Those bees in there will sting for sure
It's time for us to go!
My dad's outside with teary eyes
From laughing all the way
He turns to us and with a grin
"It's April Fools today!"
Submitted for Contest: Any Poem (you wrote) that makes you smile
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Copyright © Neva Romaine
Dedicated to my darling daughter. Lisa Maree, the kindest girl in the world
Lisa Maree, you baffle me
You just don’t seem to care
You throw your money all around
And people who won’t share
Will try to take you for a ride
And you can’t always see
What some folk try to do to you
You’ve too much trust in thee.
Lisa Maree, it’s plain to see
That you’re a special girl
Though sometimes you go off on one
And mind goes in a whirl
Your heart is gold, pure solid gold
You’re as soft as heated honey
You have a sense of humor too
You even think 'you’re' funny.
Some might find you hard to take
These fickle kinds of folk
Will run you down for being you
And treat you like a joke
But fickle folk don’t mean a thing
You’re far above the rest
When you are helping someone out
That’s when you’re at your best.
23 August 2013 @ 1817hrs
Copyright © Peter Duggan
Our taste buds have gone sad
It is the fault of Dad
Since Mom's been gone
He's feeding us all wrong
Now it's not that we are upset
It's just that we object
For three meals a day
Another bowl of spaghetti
At first we were pleased
We had plenty of cheese
But Mom were about to flip
Come back from your business trip
Dad's heart is right
He thinks his spaghetti a delight
But even chef Boyardee
Had some variety
No use to complain
Every meal is the same
Three times a day
Another bowl of spaghetti
Copyright © Fritz Purdum
I do not know?
Oh no!! I forgot –
I had a plate of dessert
In the cool freezer
Oh no!! Dad forgot –
He left his blue bowl of fruit
On the clean counter!
Copyright © J. W. Earnings
< Coco was his name
Spider monkey all the same
Dad worked for zoo
Feeder of Coco too
Brought the little guy home
Boy did Coco love to rome
Droppings here and there
Mom covered up his dairy - air
Shoulders he did seek
Knocking younger ones off their feet
Bananas and salted nuts
Made Coco dance and strut
Each day a animal of new
Dad brought home from the zoo
But the one I'll remember the most
Was coco who shared my daily toast
Como Park Zoo
St Paul Minnesota
Coco And Daddy
Can You Imagine
A Monkey Playing
With 10 Kids LOL
Copyright © Katherine Stella
When Dad is a Biology Major
By Elton Camp
I liked to give an answer complete
With specific details to be replete
Child’s, “What are girls made of?”
Brought information too far above
C, H, N, O and not too many more
The explanation proved to be a bore
Nitrogenous bases purine & pyrimidine
Are found in the DNA molecule I mean
Adenine, guanine, thymine, cytosine
With P and deoxyribose sugar are seen
In this wonderful helix they all lie
“Daughter, you can see it if you try.”
My answer was far too complex
About replication, gametes and sex
Since all she was really asking to hear
Was repeat of a nursery rhyme, I fear
Copyright © Elton Camp
There once was a pilot from Alpine
Who became a father in month nine
Took her to the hangar
Where inside he did bang ‘er
But like his plane, didn’t pull out in time
Copyright © Joe Flach
He died forty
with strength and wit
He left a son Young and young
He died nighty
With bones no teeth
He left a boy pale and forty
They meet in paradise
Dad still forty
Son at nighty
Dad thought it was grand pa
Son thought he was grand son
Who had died also
Copyright © Rodgers Roger Carter
When I was a mere lad, my Dad always cut my hair,
But as I reached my teens and became much more debonair,
To the bald-headed barber I whizzed in my old hometown,
Seated myself in his chair and plopped my quarter down!
I had never been a paying client at a barber shop before,
So I asked about that red, white and blue pole spinning by the door.
Said he, "It was a sign for barbers doing surgery in the olden day!"
At that I gulped, almost choked and turned a sickly gray!
Done with my hair, he'd shave my neck and brush on lots of powder,
And liberally douse my scalp with Vitalis - I couldn't have been prouder!
His shop reeked of pungent oils and stale tobacco smoke,
It was all I could do to sit there, trying to stifle a choke!
The town barber shop was a place to gossip and hear inane babble,
And was the local hangout for ne'er-do-wells and other idle rabble.
The risque banter invading my naive and delicate ears,
Gave me an education far beyond my tender years!
The tales I heard were of the local women, booze and such.
Though I had some inkling, I didn't understand all that much!
Had my dear devout Mother known what transpired there,
I suspect she would've insisted that Dad continue to clip my hair!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw
I... thought Santa was cool,
Until he came into the house.
The old fart was pissed an swearing,
And what we saw, even killed my mouse.
He fell through the chimney,
On the embers in the fire place.
In colourful words he expressed his pain,
Which showed in his sooty red face.
He stood with his trousers round his ankles,
And his pecker pointing straight up in the air.
He slurred with the most fruitful words, I’ll never forget,
“This present is for your mother, so don’t bloody stare.”
Mama shouted in an equally explanatory tone ,
“You’ve been drinking again I see?”
She hit his tool with a wooden spoon,
And his expression was like one chewing a bee.
He fell back and landed with a thud on the floor,
Then sprung to his feet as he scream an’ bawled.
There was something dangling from his butt,
I saw its hind legs limp as he dashed out the door.
Well, I saw me Dad the next day
He looked and walked a little rough
“I told him, “No more Christmas,”
I said, “I had enough”
“It was bad enough Santa was drunk,”
“As he ran out the front door of the house.”
“But Dad I’ll never for give him,”
“For not pulling out of his butt, my suffocating little pet mouse”
**Sweets Contest **Hello Supees I'M Back
Copyright © Sidney Hall Mad Poet
MY MODEL PLANE
Way back, when I was 12 years old,
I built a model airplane with my Dad,
It was a great experience, but most of all,
We spent some time together, and for that I was glad.
The plane was built from balsa wood and paper,
With a rubber band running from propeller to tail,
It was a labor of love for about 2 weeks,
When we finished it, it was time to exhale.
It was displayed in my room on top of my dresser,
This was not just considered a toy,
But this was a project that I was proud of,
And I considered it as my pride and joy.
Well, about 2 weeks later, it was moving day,
From our 2nd floor apartment on E. 8th St.
We drove about 5 miles in our ’49 Plymouth,
To our 12th floor apartment on W. 5th St.
The only way I could protect the plane was,
To put it on the rear shelf of the car,
I guarded my model, made sure it didn’t move,
Even though the trip wasn’t really that far.
Well , I got my plane home in one piece,
And displayed it in my brand new room,
But I was told by my Mom & Dad to continue working,
So, unpacking my stuff I resumed.
One day I had a bright idea,
I wanted to see if my plane would fly,
So I turned the propeller, the rubber band twisted tight,
And what happened next made me want to cry.
I turned the propeller 1 last time,
And the plane then snapped in 2,
Then I thought to myself, Oh my God,
What the hell did I just do?
I never saw my Dad laugh so hard,
And there is just 1 thing left to say,
A promising career as an aircraft engineer,
Came to an abrupt halt that day.
Copyright © Mark Friedman
My memories of my childhood days are few and far between,
My lucky number seven and my favourite colour green.
Banality of daily life was there for mice and men,
But nothing really matters much when at the age of ten.
I loved to ride my bicycle, go swimming in the lake.
I went to birthday parties, eating jelly, ice cream, cake.
Remember loving sausages and hating cold green beans,
But food was swapped for dating by the time I hit my teens.
By adulthood my life was marred by being mediocre,
I’d spend my time in pubs and bars, drink beer, play nine card poker.
My parents feared my devilry would not be just a blip,
My father came from Ireland so proposed I took a trip.
He said the memories that I’d have would stay with me forever.
I went. I never thought it, but my dad was very clever.
Irish whisky, Guinness, Smithwick’s, Bailey’s Irish Cream,
They tasted so divine I drank myself into a dream.
My dad no longer talks to me which isn’t very nice,
I listened to him after all and heeded his advice.
The memories that I’m laying down will always make me smile.
The legacy he left for me. The dear old Emerald Isle.
Copyright © lola barron
Chicken, potatoes, and cold pumpkin pies
The food on the table is covered with flies
White ones and red ones and black ones and blue
Just look at that mountain of laundry to do
Dishes and pot lids and pans that are green
Oh, look at this pile of dishes to clean
Here there is carpet but there there is none
I wish that this pile of garbage was done
Smudges on windows and dents in the doors
Remains from the hundreds of food fights and wars
Couches all tattered and furred by the cats
A mound of cracked snow boots and sweaty old hats
Dishes or laundry or piles of goo
I have me a plan and I know what to do
Toss 'em out windows or down the front stairs
I know this is cheating but who really cares?
Out goes the laundry and stashes of junk
From Adam's green apron to gramma's old trunk
There go the dishes all covered in mold
Along with some food that is forty years old
Off with that chair and "The Three Little Pigs"
Things that are broken and "How to Grow Figs."
Off with this junk that my kids left behind
This statue of rocks and a petrified rind
Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst
Dad heard a scream from up stairs,
He ran to his son’s rescue and found him in tears.
“What’s the matter son?” Dad gently said,
There’s, there’s a monster in the bathroom and I’m really scared.
“It’s lumpy and hairy with a warts on it legs,”
“And on it’s chest it has what looks like two scrambled eggs”
“It’s belly hangs all the way down to it’s knees
“Daddy, daddy, protect me please!”
“It knows my name, it, it said it through a toothless grin,”
“It’s face is vomit green.”
“Enough,” said Dad smiling, “There’s no such thing.”
A rumbling noise came from the bathroom.
Go see Dad but come back soon.
Dad stood by the bathroom door for a while be fore he went in
And when he opened it his terrified son heard dad scream.
The monster had a huge wart on it’s bum
That's when dad recognized it and said “ Son needs therapy now How could you mum”
*For Lisa who gave me the title. I hope it is good for you as it was for me :-)*
Copyright © Sidney Hall Mad Poet
I first learned to dance when I was four
But my kids won't let me do it no more
They say I look like a perv
The way I wiggle a swerve
They say I even embarrass the floor
Copyright © Larry Belt
I woke up this morning
so cold I'm almost jerking.
My house was almost freezing
my furnace wasn't working.
I stepped outside to take a ride
and stopped where I was at.
All four of my truck tires
and my spare was flat.
I fired up my motor
in my truck parked in the street.
And relished in the moment
as I started feeling heat.
Pulling off my jacket
when the next thing that I knew.
Steam was going everywhere
my heater hose just blew.
I could not believe my luck
I couldn't get it through my head.
I tried to call my mother
but my cell phone had gone dead.
Then I turned in time to see
this poor girl with her dad.
I suddenly felt better
my day don't look so bad.
Edwin C Hofert
Copyright © Edwin Hofert
My Dad was a funny guy
He had a Labrador as a guide
You see my dad was blind
Yet always saw the funny side
Like drinking cups of hot water
Instead of cups of tea
Because the teabag missed the cup
Yes, he did that a time or three
We went through many a kettle
Mum would get quite hectic
He’d put it on the stove to boil
Not seeing it was electric
I never heard him grumble
Never heard a single complaint
Even when he painted the shed with water
Believing it was paint
These things he did are true
But he never lost his pride
My dad was blind, could not see
Yet could see the funny side
Dad passed at the ridiculously young age of 56, it is impossible to believe in less than seven years from now, I will be older than him. Everything in the poem above is true, they really did happen, but he could always laugh at himself, which I always saw as a tremendous strength, just one of the many valuable life lessons he taught me.
Copyright © Gary Wayne Hill
Dad was digging in the garden
When he struck a custard well
Mum was none too happy
By her phizog you could tell
We watched the plume of custard
As it rose into the sky
Dad said “It’s bloomin’ lovely
We can have that with some pie
Mum was still unhappy
“This has ruined my best dress
You can both get out there later
And clear up this ruddy mess”
First thing in the morning
I went out, to see the hole
Scraped away the surface
And I filled a little bowl
Sitting on my haunches
In my jim jams and a vest
I took a cautious spoonful
And declared it was the best
Then later on, the press appeared
And in the garden mustered
As Dad explained how he had found
A well of perfect custard
A well known geolologist
Was hired to survey
He said our well, might just achieve
Ten thousand puds a day
So, Dad went out and bought himself
A brand new custard pump
And put it in the shed that he
Was just about to dump
With lots and lots of effort
And a little bit of planning
We built ourselves a factory
And we started custard canning
Now mum is very happy, ‘cause
We’ve bought a house that’s bigger
Don’t know what she’ll say though
When she sees Dad’s bought a digger
Copyright © John W Fenn
I do not know?
I love my son he's always chipper
he's my scallywag and I'm the skipper
and the apple does'nt fall far from the tree
he's menatly challenged just like me!
and even though his dad's a zero
"hey dad your my hero!"
having fun is all he's wishing
"hey dad ya wanna go fishin?"
lost the house a home we have not
"hey dad looky what I caught!"
no business financal ruin we sank
"aww dad you can have my piggy bank"
rich kids need toys to have fun
"love you dad!" "love you son!"
think no toys would make him sad?
such a good boy "your the best dad!"
now I know I won't always live forever
"hey dad we always be together?"
"no worries son just stay chipper
you'll have your own scallywag and you'll be the skipper!"
by Captain Mike Harris and his son
Copyright © Floatingpoet CaptainMike