Poor Peter Pumpkin had a very itty bitty head.
So the farmer made him stay inside the garden bed.
The farmer said that he was going to keep him warm with hay.
And there the itty bitty pumpkin stayed for many a day.
Finally, the farmer came to check upon poor Peter,
measured him and then exclaimed, “You’ve grown an extra meter!
I think it’s time for you to finally go face the world.”
Peter got up from his bed. He twirled and twirled and twirled!
“Oh my,” the farmer shouted, “You’ve grown two legs with feet!
You’re a special pumpkin. My daughters you must meet!”
Poor Peter heaved his hefty bulk, waddling away,
following behind the farmer so he would not stray.
They traveled rather quickly, and soon they reached the house.
The daughters saw the pumpkin and grew quiet as a mouse.
The silence lasted just until at last one daughter spoke,
“A pumpkin with two legs? Is this some kind of joke?”
Her father knelt beside her and whispered in her ear,
“Do not be afraid, my child. You’ve not a thing to fear.
We can carve a lantern. It will be your Halloween treat.
Then we can make lots of pumpkin pies for us to eat.
Peter trembled and grew chill to hear their horrid plan.
Jumping out the door, he yelled, “Catch me if you can!”
He ran into the pastures. Then he tumbled down a hill.
As he rolled he bumped into the couple, Jack and Jill!
“Oh dear me,” cried Peter, “I do not wish to be
a lantern for this Halloween. Please, can you both help me!”
Jack and Jill then led him to the land of Nursery Rhymes.
His sad fate has now been told to children many times.
For he ran across a guy named Peter Pumpkin EATER.
Maybe you can guess now what became of our poor Peter!
Written by Andrea Dietrich and Jan Allison, for the
Halloween Co-Writes Poetry Contest of Diane Locksley
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich
When my time is done and I am finally laid to rest
I don’t want to be recalled as one who lived life depressed
So as I wrote my will, I chose to leave an instruction
That laughing gas be inhaled by all those at the function
No mournful eulogies will a pastor have to invent
For my funeral will be held under a circus tent
When dozens of clowns emerge from the tiny Volkswagen
Reams of my silly limericks Bozo will be dragin’
And as they’re read aloud, family and friends who knew me best
Will say, “She had a sense of humor, this we can attest.”
Mimes will mimic me trying to write the world’s best novel
As my corpse hangs from the trapeze, surely they will marvel
Laughter will ensue as they shoot me from the cannon
Flying high in my demise across the great Grand Canyon
All the children will smile and there’ll be no tears allowed
So no one will ever remember me as a “dark cloud”
There are people who seem to take life way too seriously
When I meet my Maker, don’t view this as a tragedy
Dad called me his “happy girl,” so let me go out that way
I want to leave them laughing as I reach my judgment day
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire
POPPIES & MUSHROOMS
I want a beautiful sky.
One to inhale with my big brown eyes.
Fly like a kite,
under the midday light.
Join me in this lollipop flight.
Till we say goodnight.
Lets sit on the floor Indian style.
Passing around the same smile.
Taking each other by the wing.
As we take a puff and sing,
a song about: Poppies and Mushrooms,
Lets hold hands and enjoy the fumes.
I rub my naked body with poison ivy.
A poisonous Vera with Aloe so deep and spicy.
I enjoy the penetration under my earthly skin.
With the goodness of a sneeze that feels like sin.
With Poppies and Mushrooms,
my hair I groom.
An inviolate flight on acid.
Skinny dipping in the calmness placid.
I wanna touch that elephant in the sky.
Before the illusion vanishes before my eyes.
Pink clouds and fluffy marshmallows.
Purple kittens and rainbow shadows.
Liquid bamboo, and poppies too.
Cocoa mushrooms, to get rid of the flu.
Poppies and Mushrooms, in a jungle beat.
Down my legs, like a dog in heat.
Poppies and mushrooms, and a giant balloon.
Pop one for me, and act like a baboon.
Walk with me across this gingerbread bridge.
Lets eat all the cake in the fridge.
Graffiti and skittles,
While I sing "Hey Diddle Diddle."
Lets follow the unicorn, with green feet.
Poppies and Mushrooms ever so sweet.
Here Kitty Kitty, feel my heart beat.
Hear me meow and tweet tweet tweet.
Kool-Aid and Hawaiian punch for lunch.
How about some orange Captain Crunch.
Poppies and Mushrooms, from the sky I fell.
Footsteps down the yellow belly tripping trail.
Skip to my Lou, it's time to swallow another pink pill.
And sing me this song, where all these illusions are real.
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A
HORSE FROM MARS
It came from the sky, a gray silver stallion.
I looked up high, and I have also seen a dragon.
With so many things in this universe.
I'm on stand-by with a camera in my purse.
Who would have known I'd be the first to spot a PEGASUS.
The town folks wave hi every time I walk my hippopotamus.
I enjoy showing everyone, my pictures of a flying horse.
I don't see why they call a DOCTOR every time I call the TASK FORCE
I think they are jealous over all the things I've seen.
They act all crazy since I sighted a LEPRECHAUN when I was fourteen.
No one ever believed me when I saw an army of dragonflies.
They have a name for me "the boy who See's too much in the skies!"
I don't know why they can't see what I see.
For all I know they are all experiments under Alien Technology.
They don't believe me how I got this magic MEDALLION.
It was a friendly gift from the silver stallion.
I also have many pictures of a UNICORN.
We became best-friends when he gave me a piece of its magic horn.
We sat together while he drank from the lake.
We enjoyed talking, --talking about how U.F.O.'s are fake.
Why can't they see? The day I fell off a boat, I got rescued by a MERMAID!
Who would have known a mermaid swim around with first-aid.
I also remember the day I followed a LEPRECHAUNS.
We were playing under the rainbow having so much fun.
When I told my doctor about all the things I've seen.
He locked me in a DUNGEON, thinking I was the ALIEN QUEEN.
I begged and I told him I don't believe in any type of alien.
Too bad the master of this dungeon came from another region.
In a way he looks like that one SILVER STALLION from Mars.
The first creature I'd seen the day I fell off the monkey bars.
I have this picture of this horse of course.
JUST help me out of this white-jacket!!! ;-)
If you want to see the coolest picture of a flying horse.
(A small collaboration with: B-Boy)
re-post for ~FUNNY CONTEST
Copyright © SKAT A
**“Those that respect the law and love sausage should watch neither being made.” –
American Humorist/Author Mark Twain (real name Samuel Clemens)
Prestigious lawmaking bodies are comprised of solons*
Some find it hard to refrain from comparing them to cons
Few legislators know the ramifications of bills
And the way they’re rushed to passage can give the public chills
We don’t know what’s in bills or how they strip away our rights
And if we ask our lawmakers, they provide few insights
Piles of amendments are thrust hastily in political machines
Objections are made; no one successfully intervenes
“What’s that?” we ask later when we realize what has been done
(In Kennesaw, Georgia, all citizens MUST purchase guns)
Try to blend the conservative and liberal viewpoints
You’ll find the machine sputters with fat spewing from its joints
It’s like taking hunks of pork and grinding them into links
The process is messy and the outcome usually stinks
No matter! We are supposed to smile and just eat it up
Then we wash it all down with a sip from the lager cup
Pork barrel projects like Alaska’s “Bridge to Nowhere” confound
As on nebulous values of bills lawmakers expound
So beware if for common sense in these bills you forage
And remember old Mark Twain’s analogy to sausage
*Solons are members of any legislative or lawmaking body.
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire
Thea, grandfather Alferd's dog died, she was so old and sick
Now is Thea on the moon, says Adrian who is six
Michael Jackson died so unexpectedly and abruptly
He is on the moon and plays with Thea, says Adrian who is a big fan
Betzy, grandfather Arild's dog died, she was also old and sick
Now Betzy is also on the moon with Thea and Michael Jackson and play all day
Great Grandmother died so unexpectedly and abruptly
Adrian who is six had difficulty understanding
Adrian who is six cried many tears for Great Grandmother
but comforted himself with the fact that she is sitting on the moon and
makes waffles to Thea, Michael Jackson and Betzy
A-L Andresen :) - A true story -
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Anne Lise Andresen
What underhanded monkey business
razzle-dazzle bull is this?
Whose double-crossing, flimflam scam,
debauchery or hocus sham
is wheeling dealing in romance,
putting lovers in a trance?
Antics, capers or witch's brew,
enchanting hymns or shaman's stew,
whose quackery or voodoo drink
made Casanova stop and think
and turned the ancient lovers cold;
poor Romeo and nymphs of old?
Perhaps black magic's potent gel,
or craftiness or wicked spell,
a clever con or master hoax,
or just some trickster playing jokes.
Whatever ruse that works the arts,
mumbo jumbo seduces hearts!
Copyright © Celeste Butler-Mendez
We can smile like a child who does not know yet many things,
In simple things he’s satisfied, showing his contented feelings.
We can smile like a drunken man, feeling so drowsy and woozy,
Who sings and wears a smile , trying to forget and not to worry.
We can smile like a chimpanzee, who’s so happy with a banana
After giving us a big grin, we can leave him and write our stanza.
We can smile like my grandpa who dearly loves my grandma
Feeling Adonis with his strength, he’s never been into a stigma.
We can smile like blooming sunflowers on those summer days,
Despite the debilitating heat, we can still stand tall with grace.
We can smile like the sun that often shines so bright
Assuring that everyday you and I will gonna be alright.
We can smile and smile even the world sometimes wrenches our heart,
For sadness is a transient and in God’s love, He keeps us without a doubt.
You can smile just like me, who’s already experiencing a bad memory,
But I think I’ve nothing to worry about, for the computer does all for me.
At all times, you and I can wear a smile in any way we want
Infecting others to retain beauty, stay young in body and in heart.
June 24, 2013 4.55am
Sponsor: My greatest poet and sis, Linda
Note: Giving my best to make you smile by making it a little bit funny ;). Have a great day in sunshine! Big sweetest hugs!
Copyright © Leonora Galinta
Oh laundry, how relentless you are in this house,
It’s as if I were a polygamist’s spouse.
By: Sabina Nicole
Copyright © Sabina Nicole
Football coach Bobby Bowden was never one to cuss
But refs make mistakes and coaches have a right to fuss
“St. Bowden” as he was lovingly called by players
Instilled moral values and hushed all the naysayers
He’d not take God’s name in vain, so he coined dadgumit
It became his trademark, might appear in his obit
If a ref made a bad call, he’d race onto the field
Never said God d*** it, when the ref’s call he appealed
"Dadgumitrefereeism" got his point across
The refs would shy away because Bobby was the boss
Sometimes calls were overturned since Bobby was revered
Short and stout in stature, but the refs still shook in fear
The “Saint” played with God on his side and the refs knew it
Dadgumitrefereeism didn't bother God a bit
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire
Got home awound twee (I was dwunk as a wouse)
Awose pwomptly at five wit' dwy cotton-mouth
I knew wather soon my day was gonna' bwow
When I stwuggled outta' bed and stubbed my wight toe
Fwopped back on the mattwess cwying and twitchin'
Staggoid back up and wimped to the kitchen
Stumbled to the counter to bwew Folger's bwend
Spiwwed it down my Hanes and boint my widdle fwend
Hobbled to the bathwoom to wustle up some Tums
Twipped on my fwip-fwop and bwuised my weft bun
Should not have cawoused wit' owe Bugsey wast night
Now my head hoits and de wight is too bwight
If I had not dwunk gin for my mowale booster
I coulda' swept in trew 'dat wascally wooster
(Don't feel wike wunning dat siwwy wat-wace
Tink I might caw in sick at the Woony-Tune pwace)
Copyright © Tim Ryerson
You say things that are really mean
I say that I'm still pretty lean
You say I'm fat and that's unfounded
I say I'm not fat, just well rounded
You say my big waist makes me look like a clown
I say that's not my waist, my chest fell down
You say I should be able to touch my toes with ease
I say you're right, if they were on my knees
You say my socks don't match, I should be more discreet
I say it's not my fault, I can't see my feet
You say I'm too heavy for my height, that's what you state
I say you're wrong, I'm just too short for my weight
You say I should weigh one eighty, no more
I say I'm five ten, I should be six four
You say next Halloween I should dress up as a mouse
I say I'll wear a window and go there as a house
You say I should get more exercise and try to shed a pound
I say that when I sit around, I really sit around
You say at the theatre you were embarrassed and didn't know what to do
I say it was because you sat in seat number three while I sat in one and two
You say I thought you were watching your weight
I say I am, I'm watching it inflate
You say being with me doesn't seem the same anymore
I say I'm still the same, just a whole lot more
You say you'd call if I were thinner
I say just don't call me late for dinner
You say we should work out at the gym down the street
I say we should get up and go out to eat.
Please note! A waist is a terrible thing to mind.
Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr.
on strawberry blondes
from the dusk
till the dawn,
Sleeping in corners
where ever they fall,
Copyright © Johnette Loefgren
“Who am I,” asked the Bunyip. “What am I doing here?”
“Please tell me,” begged the Bunyip,” for my purpose isn’t clear.”
“No answer!” came the stern reply; “You’ll get no help from me!”
Poor Bunyip, he began to cry, “Doesn’t anyone know me?”
And thus he went a-wandering, searching far and wide
For someone who could put an end to his longing, deep inside.
One day, he found a piece of glass, discarded by a lake.
He gazed into its surface … OH! That was his big mistake!
For in that glass, he met Himself … the image struck him dumb;
No-one could love that ugly mug! (Except perhaps his Mum …)
So, overcome by black despair, the poor old Bunyip sobbed.
The tears poured down his warty cheeks, and ran into his gob.
He cried all night, and then all day, and then all night again.
The rain it poured, the wind it howled as if to voice his pain …
Then suddenly emerged a shape, out of the Primal Soup,
Round and warty … big and black … The Bunyip was cock-a-hoop!
“Who am I?” asked the creature,
(In strangely girlish voice.)
The Bunyip’s pulse began to race …
His lumpy heart rejoiced …
“What am I?” begged the creature.
“Oh! I WISH that I could see!”
“You’re a Bunyip!” cried the Bunyip,
“And you look, … well,
“Just like ME!”
A bunyip, as our Aussie members will know, is a mythical creature - or is it?
They are said to inhabit small ponds, and are lovable - but not handsome ...
Copyright © Frances King
My car is equipped with maps and a GPS
With a great fear of getting lost I am obsessed
Men seem to have a different navigation system
Asking for directions is too far beneath them
Tony and I embarked on a cross-country tour
Didn’t start out that way, just took multiple detours
Tony didn’t like the GPS talking voice
Rather than listen, he turned it off by choice
Each time we stopped for gas, I wanted to seek help
But if I approached someone, Tony’d let out a yelp
The White Mountains should have been a hundred-mile drive
With two days on the road, I thought I’d not survive
“Turn right now, make a left, heck just keep going straight”
Commands from the King of the Road did not abate
But it wasn’t until we saw the first palm tree
That I’d had my fill and let out an urgent plea
“Huh,” he replied, “guess YOU drove just a bit off course
Those Canadians will want to see our passports”
“That’s the Mexican border patrol up ahead!”
I screeched, turned around and away I quickly sped
*For Francine's "Whatever You Say, Dear" Contest
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire
(sing to tune of Hush Little Baby)
Hush, little PD, don't say a word.
Nathan's gonna buy you a mocking bird.
If that bird makes fun of you....
that's what that bird is supposed to do!
Take that bird and trade it in.
Buy yourself a coat made of leopard skin.
Take great care to not go out
anywhere that PETA might be about.
You could get hit in the head.
PETA activists can sure see red.
If a new coat you don't need,
how about a new cat, Persian breed?
If that cat sheds too much hair,
have Nathan take you out to a fair.
Fairs are fun. You can't go wrong.
Are you fast asleep yet from this dumb song?
If you're not, I have to say....
your insomnia is here to STAY.
Written by Andrea on Oct. 22, 2012
For Send me to sleep....... Poetry Contest
Happy ZZZZZZZZs to you, PD
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich
Nothing can describe the excitement that I feel.
I hear the soft click as I open my laptop seal.
The whirring of my modem as it chatters online.
My heart is racing as it seems to take a long time.
I am almost speechless as I wait for the solid light.
I've been waiting all day, so I can get online tonight.
The ticking of my hard drive light rapidly blinking.
The feeling deep in my stomach is almost sinking.
I couldn't hardly wait and it made me feel unwell.
I'm almost in static as I hear "You've Got Mail".
-I could not help myself, inspired by Richard and Becca, nicest people you could meet.
-Not written for any contest
-All rights goto the orignal maker of You've got mail and any copyrights are maintained.
Copyright © Donald Williams
< Cascading lakes and streams
The loon stands out it seems
Minnesota's state bird
I know it must sound absurd
Adopted in nineteen sixty one
Wails and yodels heard under the sun
Black and white bearing red eyes
Wingspans five feet can make one cry
Body lengths up to three feet
Yet clumsy on lands and moss peat
They are high speed flyers
And great underwater divers
They can dive up to ninety feet
In pursuit of fish they want to eat
They are even on our license plates
An critical habitat drawn on metal slates
Twelve thousand of these unique birds
God that has to be a lot of turds
But for now I'll enjoy it's captured views
Of this beautiful loon and it's most colorful hues
Written By Katherine Stella
Entry For Mini - Blog Beautiful Bird Contest
By Constance ~ A Rambling Poet
Copyright © Katherine Stella
That’s not my elephant, this here’s Ella my wife
She claims the extra pounds came with her change of life
She now takes ballet, but watching her dance in tights
Sends chills down my spine and gives second graders frights
Her plate’s piled high with lasagna and spaghetti
Chowing down on our drive to the Serengeti
I think every husband should have a bill of rights
“Euthanasia,” I’ll plead, when they read her last rites
Copyright © Diane Locksley
oh lovely bed, dishevelled bed,
warm and cosy snuggle bed
too nice to get out of bed
too big for one it should be shared
crisp clean sheets, to curl the toes bed,
pack of pillows for my head.
duvet to wrap around me, bed
wish you served meals, need to be fed.
coffee and toast make it a special bed
crumbs to lie on, isn’t good it’s said
best you throw me out, get a shower,
oh bed, can I sneak back in an hour,
my bed I love you.
Penned 11th April 2013
Copyright © SEREN ROBERTS
In late December I'm snuggled here in bed
Resolution making whirling in my head
There are those pounds I wouldn't miss
But if I don't lose them I'll just be pissed
To study French would be cool I'll bet
Heck, I haven't even mastered English yet
I really vow to spend much less on shoes
Scratch that..make it - much less on booze
I really need to spend more time with friends
Naw, to many with whom I must make amends
Forget it-I think I'll just go back to sleep
And just use last years list I didn't keep
For Carolyn's Resolutions contest.
Copyright © Barbara Gorelick
"Vote for me! My opponent is a liar and a thief! I will make a change and rectify all!
I will raise your standard of living, lower your taxes and we'll all have a ball!"
(Please read the disclaimer,
For this potential hall of famer)
Warning: electing this braggadocio person,
May cause the status quo to worsen.
Any claims made on this campaign tour,
Are not intended as a political cure.
Electing this person may cause temporary blindness,
Nervous stomach, diarrhea and a lack of kindness.
But people, pay no attention to this disclaimer note.,
Put your blinders on !! Get out there and vote!
-paid for by elect a slanderer for office committee:
Copyright © Robert A. Dufresne
Tell me I am pretty and sexy and hot
Tell me you like everything that I’ve got
Say that my clothes fit me just right
Even if some things are a little too tight
Laugh at my jokes even if they are dumb
Massage my neck ’til your fingers go numb
Don’t get mad becaue I make more money
Do the dishes, vacuum, and call me honey
Respect me for my intelligent mind
Treat all my friends friendly and kind
Tell me that I cook better than mother
Say that you’ll never love any other
Kiss me goodnight and good morning
Make love to me without any warning
Call me at work just to hear my voice
Say that being with me is your first choice
Watch chick flicks during a football game
Give me a sweet little sexy pet name
Tell me my lovely face is all you see
But darling, don’t you ever lie to me
Copyright © Anita Lovelace
“Soon”, I said, knowing probably never;
“Maybe later, after it’s way better weather”.
“Stop bugging me - I said, soon,” are the words I repeated,
“After you give me the five minutes of peace that I’ve needed!”
Not one minute passes and they’re asking again,
“Ask one more time and it’s never, my friend!”
I should never have mentioned the possibility,
That all of the kids could someday go there with me.
“I don’t know how soon soon is – it might be today;
It could be in a month or a good year away.”
“But one thing is sure, it will never arrive,
If you keep on pestering - on that, please rely.”
“So think of something else that all of you can do
Instead of asking that stupid question every minute or two.”
“As soon as soon finally gets here I’ll let you all know
And no sooner than that will be the day that we go.”
“So that word you keep asking, which I will not repeat,
Won’t get soon here sooner – so the ask, please delete.”
They walked away sad, with a slink and a mope,
But without asking again – for an entire day, I can hope.
And as soon as they give up on it ever arriving -
Soon will arrive and there we’ll be driving.
Copyright © Joe Flach
The day I came around the Soup
Texan cutie made me take giant loop
Her way of writing sometimes makes me laugh
Have to adore her like some of us worships the Golden Calf
Call herself pd
Guess that is the way it is supposed to be
Now she has sponsored me with a PM
Thought she was messin`with my brain,that lil`gem
In this game I knew from day one
Give from your heart,or you are gone
I will get what I give,she has taught me
Precious she is that lil`Texan Gold Nugget,called pd
Dedicated to Irma,rocket princess and soup boiler pd.
Love ya as much as a friend can do
Copyright © Arild Andresen Ertsland
Norseman on Foot
Attack of a Norseman
Norseman Plays Volleyball
What Jiminy Got For Speeding
Baby Rick Gets Into Honey
Cheap Melted Metal
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich
Hearing talented young voices provides such pleasure
In our quest for America’s latest idol treasure
Next year the judging panel will not be the same
The man we love to hate will leave for bigger game
What will it be like without the infamous scowl
Of the Brit who tells it like it is -- Simon Cowell
“That was simply dreadful,” says he with a wry smirk
“You came off karaoke; it just didn’t work.”
Randy asks, "Yo, Dog, what's with the off-key pitches?"
Ellen’s there for laughs; she leaves us in stitches
Kara strokes her long, brown hair, bats her lashes too
Asks Casey to remove his shirt, flirts as he follows through
But Simon never offers consolation prizes
Contestants' egos crash down as their anger rises
If he tells Big Mike he sounds karaoke
We may find Simon adrift in the Okefenokee
Choosing a replacement will surely not be easy
Adam Lambert? Paula's return? Oh, it makes us queasy
Simon will be missed, the show will suffer ratings
Viewers may depart for loss of the man they’re hating
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire
Millicent Portia Ponsonby-Smyth
Could speak fluent French by the time she was five.
By the age of just eight she was top of her class,
There wasn’t a test that she couldn’t pass.
English and maths she coped with just fine
And quantum mechanics she’d mastered by nine.
Her parents were proud, but a little concerned
That she’d never have fun if she stayed in to learn.
Her father said, “Millicent go out and play.”
“But father I’m reading so here I shall stay.”
“Being so clever is great there’s no doubt,
But once in a while you need to get out.”
She said, ”Pater, please listen I’m happy to study,
And if I go out there’s a chance I’ll get muddy.”
That very night she was taken off guard,
She discovered a sum that was simply too hard.
She stomped round her room in utter frustration,
She just couldn’t do this quadratic equation.
Gnashing her teeth and tearing her hair
She kicked out in temper at her teddy bear.
It flew through the air and bounced off the wall,
So she kicked it again before it could fall.
It bounced off her head and then off her knee
And suddenly Millicent giggled with glee.
She continued all night to kick it around.
For hours she kept it from touching the ground.
In the following weeks she practiced some more
And saved all the money she earnt from her chores.
She went to the shop, bought a ball and some boots,
And learnt how to dribble and learnt how to shoot.
Every day after school she went to the park
And practiced her football until it was dark.
She continued to study the books and the sport
And paid close attention to all she was taught.
13 years later Miss Smyth is delighted
She’s the first girl in history to play for United.
Copyright © Rufus Reed
The ugly witch kept her in a tower
And made her work hour after hour,
Until her loved prince set her free
When he said, “Rapunzel, marry me.”
The old witch had a raving fit
And truly carried on a bit.
She said “I’ll fix that mangy prince,
By brewing my magic herbs and quince.”
The prince, not so dumb as the witch thought,
Dug a big trap. The witch was caught.
He forced her to drink her own homebrew
And added some of his own stuff too.
The witch lay there in a big stupor,
Elves came along, tried to recoup her.
They thought she was their friend SnowWhite.
They fed her bon bons day and night.
They noticed she was getting bigger
And pretty soon would lose her figure.
They gave her to a passing frog
Who carried her to his marriage log.
He’s proud of his bride and her loud croak
But the witch is sad, her life’s a joke.
The moral of this is plain to see
Or that’s the way it seems to me
Don’t keep a damsel in distress.
Or it may be you whose life’s a mess.
For John Heck's "Happily Ever After? contest won 9th
Copyright © Joyce Johnson
'Tis another glorious spring and I planted my garden with the expectation,
That I shall reap a bountiful harvest for my table with minimum frustration!
I planted the usual stuff - carrots, radishes, onions and termaters,
Watermelons, peas, corn, beans and a few hills of russet pertaters.
With the Good Lord's help, lots of sun and occasional showers of rain,
The seeds sprang to life along with some curses that are my infernal bane!
I've discovered that I have a healthy crop of weeds that need attention,
And a host of other intrusive visitors that I'll proceed to mention!
I was dismayed to discover legions of caterpillars and mealy bugs,
Pruning my plants along with hordes of ugly snails and slimy slugs!
They're even being attacked from below by gophers and moles,
And from above by crows making diving sorties from the clothesline poles!
'Coons, 'possums and wabbits at raiding my garden are very deft,
And armies of well-disciplined ants are gleaning what is left!
I even caught some nasty little kids filching a watermelon last night!
I chased them but those little dudes took off with the speed of light!
With a storm of wind and hail this morn I saw all my labor disappear!
Come next spring I think I shall opt to sit on the patio and guzzle beer!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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