I have the house to clean
but i don't know where to start
it seems as if a tornado came
and tore it all apart
it was my two year old little girl
with no attention span for toys
she dumps out all the Lego's
and throws them to make noise
her bath toys are floating
in her puppy's water bowl
her daddy's shoes stick to the floor
from her bubblegum on the sole
my laundry became her dress up clothes
even my Sunday dress
i had no time to hang them up
now my clothes are a mess
every drinking cup is dirty
with a juice of a different kind
i was going to clean up under the couch
but i'm afraid of what i'll find
her shirt is covered in peanut butter
her hands are a chocolate smear
when i went to wash her in the sink
she splashed soap up on the mirror
now soon it's time for dinner
but i cannot find her chair
i found it in the laundry room
now how did it get in there?
spaghetti sauce is in her hair
corn kernels speckle the floor
i'm losing all my patience
I can't take it anymore
i clean her hair and brush her teeth
now she is asking for ice cream
i shut my eyes and count to three
and try so hard not to scream
every day is the same kind of crazy
and i don't know what to do
but every night it makes me smile
when she says "goodnight mama.. I love you"
Copyright © Casarah Nance | Year Posted 2014
Many years ago, when we were all young,
We really thought life, would be so much fun.
While playing dress-up, trying on mom’s stuff,
Putting on make-up, we found to be tough.
Then came our schooling, and boy things would change,
“Those aren’t our parents”, when they acted strange.
Sometimes they were hip, but old-fashioned too,
That’s something I swore, I would never do.
Wishing you were older, adults had it made,
They would do nothing, yet still would be paid.
That is how little, we all had known,
We surely found out, once we were grown.
Loving the twenties, we’d go out with friends,
When we went shopping, we followed the trends.
Doing what we wanted, and staying out late,
It didn’t matter, what time we all ate.
Then came the thirties, and most of us wed,
Watch what you wish for, my parents had said.
We had to work hard, many bills to pay,
I guess they were right, what more can I say?
Raising your children, was hardest of all,
Needing some advice, your parent’s you’d call.
It seemed so easy, they needed no rest,
So now it’s your turn, you learned from the best.
The forties arrived, that was a shocker,
We’d spend lots of time, just at the doctor.
Back aches and headaches, so tired you’d be,
Trying not to cough, or else you would pee.
The fifties would come, and your grandkids too,
Where were your glasses? You hadn’t a clue.
You searched here and there, and under the bed,
“Hey grandma” they laughed, “They’re right on your head”.
Here come the sixties, now let’s have some fun,
You are retired; your work is all done.
To dinner with friends, you dressed and you wait,
They never show up, you have the wrong date.
Now the seventies, with friends playing games,
If only you could, remember their names.
You try hard to hide, those under-eye bags,
Gravity happens, and everything sags.
Enjoy every day, and have a good laugh,
All the steps you took, led down a new path.
Live life as it comes, each year a new page,
One thing is for sure, everyone will age.
Copyright © Kelly Zakerski | Year Posted 2009
Quote used "I do not like green eggs and ham. I do not like them, Sam-I-Am.”
Dr. Seuss, Green Eggs and Ham
My mum says I’ve got to eat all my greens
They’ll help me grow strong, guess l know what she means
But why green eggs and ham, I just want to eat jam
For I like to eat jam whenever I can
Jam on potatoes, oh that’s simply delish
I spoon it on carrots and it covers my fish
I eat jam for breakfast and always on dinner
Mum says I’ll get fat and I need to be thinner
Why does mum always think that she’s right
I need to eat jam morning, noon and night!
Every night time I kneel by my bed and pray
I thank God for letting me eat jam every day
But why won’t he listen for he knows I don’t like greens
I’d put them in firework and blow them to smithereens
Sadly mum disagrees and still gives me green food
It makes me all grumpy and puts me in a mood
But I eat them all up as I don’t want to fight
I still tell mum I love her every single night
7th August 2015
Contest – Dr Seuss Quote Prompt
Sponsor Casarah Nance
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015
Mother Superior faced a daunting task,
Like no other in her forty years.
She had prayed it simply wasn’t so,
That Godly intervention might belie her fears.
But sadly, there was no such intervention,
No relief from the duty she did rue.
Despite her hopes and all her prayers,
It had been confirmed. What she feared was true.
So, she gathered all the Sisters after Vespers.
The impromptu meeting caused quite a stir.
There was murmuring as they filed into the chapel.
She hesitated for a moment... but no, she was sure.
“Sisters, I asked you all here to share some news.
It’s something I never thought I’d have to say.
We have a case of gonorrhea in the convent.”
Mary Catherine, a Sister for sixty years, said,
“Oh, thank God. I’m so tired of Chardonnay.”
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014
It’s a mother-in-law’s right, her prerogative
To ‘drop in’ on her son almost any time,
But a mother-in-law should always be prepared
For almost anything she may find.
So, Mother Cready dropped in unannounced;
But as she approached her son’s front door,
Suddenly it opened. “Ta Da! Do you like my happy dress?”
His young wife stood there in her ‘all in all’…nothing more.
“Oh, my word!” Mother Cready exclaimed with surprise.
“Why are you naked? Are you insane?”
Just as surprised, the young wife pulled her inside.
“Please, Mother Cready…if you’ll just let me explain.
You see, when Mac has had a rough day,
When he’s been under a lot of stress,
Sometimes I meet him at the door
With a smile and a kiss in my happy dress.
It always relaxes him and makes him happy,
Then he makes me very happy too.
It works for Mac and me, Mother Cready;
Maybe it would work for you.”
“We’re too old for such.” scoffed Mother Cready.
“Perhaps if we were young like the two of you.”
But, on her way home, she decided
She was definitely going to try it too.
So, she bathed and put on some nice perfume,
Fixed her make-up and her hair.
She was thinking some very sexy thoughts,
But she had to hurry…no time to spare.
She heard her husband’s car in the driveway;
And as he approached their front door,
She threw it open. “Ta Da! Do you like my happy dress?"
She stood there in her ‘all in all’…nothing more.
She saw a little grimace cross his face,
But that was not the worst.
Then he said, “I appreciate your happy dress, my dear;
But maybe you should have ironed it first.”
ALTERNATE LAST VERSE
“Well…your ‘happy dress’ could use some ironing;
But my birthday suit could use some starch.”
He kissed her. “Bet you and I can work it out.”;
And off to bed they marched.
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014
Sam, the box turtle, sauntered down deserted gravel road;
when he bumped into Elli, a gorgeous, slender, green toad.
Together they stopped to admire the rustic scenery;
noting, Bunny would like hiding eggs in all that greenery.
Easter will be in a few weeks, kids will have fun hunting eggs;
Bunny would be quite busy hopping on two spindly legs.
Sadie, a monarch butterfly fluttered into their path;
she was perched on a tree branch taking her daily sun bath.
“Hi!” she said to Sam and Sadie. “Have you heard hottest news?
The Easter Bunny was murdered, on the headline reviews.”
Sam and Sadie were speechless, much too shocked to say the least;
who murdered the Easter Bunny, who was the wicked beast?
No one could think of anyone who wanted Bunny killed,
the whole town was suspected, everyone thoroughly grilled.
It couldn’t be Sam or Sadie; they were not at the scene;
whoever it was, they were desperate, extremely mean.
Small town sheriff investigated the deadly crime site;
there lay Bunny sprawled along the roadside, eggs colored bright.
Struck down by angry mother hawk, thought he robbed her love nest;
sheriff pulled out the handcuffs, placed mother under arrest.
Copyright © 2013 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Copyright © Caryl Muzzey | Year Posted 2013
She was a tappin' to the tunes...
of those Mississippi blues...
step-pin' out, in her white...
We were a watchin' her a prancin',
all through the kitchen, dancin'...
for she was so...hot & sizzlin'...
hummin' to those Mississippi tunes...
Funny curlers too, upon...
her head...for a new... Hair dew,...
she was, a swirlin'-in that bakers apron,
when her head...star-ted a bobbin' to...
those Mississip-pi blues,
'Pots were a knockin'...
Grandma a sockin' down all she brews,
while that kettle there was whistlin',
in har-mo-ny, with them good ole...
good ole...mississip-pi moves,'
That floor there, was a bouncin'
holdin' hands we were a jumpin',
an-a hoppin' In the kitchen, to those...
Where Grandma's feet were a stompin',
In her new...New-white-sexy-pat-en-
Copyright © Perry Campanella | Year Posted 2013
Mother Teresa of Calcutta,
Was a bit of a nutter,
She upset the slums,
When playing the drums.
Copyright © Colm Sweeney | Year Posted 2013
Mom I love you more
than I think that you love me
Just read this little note
and at the end I'm sure you'll see
I love you so I let you
wash and comb my hair
and buy me all my toys
just to show you how I care
And cook for me and feed me
the things that make me strong
and when I'm tiered, but can't sleep
I let you sing a song
I only let you buy me clothes
'Cause I know it pleases you
and let you do those other things
all mother's like to do
I never tell you "NO"
that should meant a lot right there
and you living in my house
that I've agreed to share
And it's me who lets you work
until the day is done
just so I can go out
with my friends and have some fun
I only wrote this note
so you could plainly see
I've got to love you more
Than I think that you love me
Copyright © Jerry T Curtis | Year Posted 2015
I sat there staring at the screen
Thinking about lunch
Feeling very lean
I sat there still
Letters taunting me
Staring out the window sill
All I got was Nature staring back
Mocking me completely
I grew so slack
Haiku’s flashed through my head
So short and sweet
Frustrated, I went out to my shed
But narrative poetry that I must
Haiku’s so less sticky
My heads about to bust
Haiku’s I pressed on
The boss said otherwise
So much I think I might go eat a flan
Who’s this boss?
Master of school and more
Salad she did toss
She who is the bomb
Yet stern as a stone
She is known as my wonderful mom
What shall I ever do
Going through such misery
I shall go watch Winnie the pooh
Going to the big screen
I watched away
But I must return to my previous scene
Back at the small screen I ate a skittle
Finally arriving at the last
I think about Haiku’s
But I actually had a blast
In the yard I see our gnome
Standing there alone
Telling me to end my narrative poem
Copyright © Ben Batman | Year Posted 2014
She stays awake for hours, cutting Xs in the sprouts,
Then peels all the tatties, a ton or thereabouts,
Slicing and dicing parsnips is next up in the plan,
Chops up carrots and a swede, and put them in a pan,
Mixes up her sage and onion and stuffs it in the bird,
Along with some pork sausage meat that’s been pre-prepared,
She takes apart the oven, to fit the turkey in,
Hangs it up with bits of string, there’s no room in the tin,
Wraps sausages in bacon, in case they catch a chill,
But makes sure they‘re all cooked thoroughly, so the family won’t get ill,
Cooks the bird for hours, while the table’s being laid,
With all the finest crockery (and some of lower grade),
Makes space around the table, brings in extra chairs,
Adorns the place with candles and other Christmas wares,
Lays out a Christmas cracker in everybody’s place,
Complete with rather tacky joke, no doubt of a straight face,
And brings out all the condiments, the pickles and the sauce,
The salt and pepper, the mustard and radish known as “horse”,
Next she makes the starter, the simplest course by far,
A cocktail made up of prawns and a sauce out of a jar.
The family then all piles in, and argues over seats,
The children are already full of chocolates and treats,
Grandmother is mumbling, “Kids should be seen not heard”,
Meanwhile back in the kitchen Mum’s wrestling with the bird,
She tries to carve up slices, but ends up with turkey chunks,
While Dad and Gramps have become a pair of Christmas drunks,
They start an argument about which wine goes with the meat,
And restless children run around, not staying in their seat,
Mother tries to keep her calm and bravely soldiers on,
But the roasties are all blackened and the sprouts are over done,
Mum enters the dining room looking very puffed,
She throws the turkey down and shouts ,“There you go! Get stuffed!”
18th November 2012
Copyright © Sharon Smith | Year Posted 2012
Flicks hair -
Can clout –
Spoilt brat –
5th June 2015
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015
I wanted to write a song for my mother
Then I thought Boyz 2 Men’s "Song for mama”
So discouraged I got
As confused as I was
I then decided to write a letter for my mother
Just when I wrote ‘Dear Mother’
Tu Pac's Dear Mama came into mind
There my Lord, wasted paper and ink!!!!
I then asked my Zulu friend help write a Zulu song
We thought of going the line Mama Wami
Again Deborah Frasers’ Mama Wami came in mind
Not only once, but she did it again as
Britney Spears by singing Mzali Wami
I never got angry at her, but disappointed in myself.
I wanted to write a song that expresses the joy
That my mom goes through when she sees me
My Zulu friend had something like ‘u mama u ya jabula’ in mind
Bother not say it loud, I said
For Bra Hugh wrote the same words
Tho my friend tried, but was not enough
I decided to apologize to mama
For I couldn’t write her nothing
I took a pen and paper and wrote
'Mama I am sorry'
With just four words,
Brenda Fassies’ Mama I am sorry came in mind
For I can’t write what our eminent legend wrote
Not only did she apologize to mama
She also said it was too late for mama
Ohh Sis Mabbrr, sure your legacy lives on
Still as I am struggling to find words for my mom
I got so fired up inside
As boiling as I was
I somehow managed to calm myself down
Just the way Jesus calmed the sea
As creative as I wanted to be
There was no much for me
For much words has been used
Only the good ones rather
I then decided to write a Poem for Mama
Ssshhh listen to this.....
Copyright © victor satekge | Year Posted 2014
I do not know?
As far as kitchens go, this one's pretty cool
To miss one of Mum's feeds, you'd be a fool
Thousands of cup cakes and every Sunday a roastà
Every morning she'd make me honey on toast
Learning to cook was easy when mum was there
One day smoke from the oven gave as a scare
Getting your hands dirty making sausage rolls
When I got a bit older, we made coffee scrolls
But every birthday cake was made with such love
Oven trays for a party would fit if we gave them a shove
Pancakes were a favourite with lemon and sugar
Mum would call me over to open a tight jar
The smells that came out of the oven were great
Mum would get up set if dinner was running late
For breakfast, lunch or a snack it was the place
If you felt crook, it put a smile on your face
Mum would walk you over to a hot lemon drink
The meals dad tried to cook, would make the house stink
So to miss one of Mum's feeds, you'd be a fool
Because I think Mum's kitchen is pretty cool
Copyright © mark robinson | Year Posted 2015
The first to wake
Boom boom, shake shake
I used to find them so much fun
Until she decided to scream and shout
Bring it on girl
Loud and all out
I’ll just go and hide on my cloud
Ready steady bake
Last to eat the cake
“Have you had some Mum?”
No darling, you take
I don’t mind
I’d like for you to shed me
Spend some time
To simply find
It’s healthy at times to be blind
I push, I pull
Kids to school
I wish I were just
Horizontal in a pool
I could just walk out
“No mum that’s not cool”
Would I be such a fool?
But I’m the queen you know
I make the rules
The irritating whining song
A bell at the door
I really need a manicure; it’s been so long
“What took you so long?”
I was busy window-shopping in Hong Kong
“Where’s my glove mum?”
Deep breathes, play dumb
“Where’s my recorder mum?”
One, two, three
“Sweetheart bring me the remote”
Here darling, stick it up your bum
The first to wake
The first to leave home
I want to be first in bed some days
To sit around and just laze
I need a haircut, some highlights
“Are you listening mum?”
Copyright © Goldie Uttamchandani | Year Posted 2013
Mother Teresa Ball
Had no hair at all,
Under her wimple
Was one giant pimple.
Copyright © Colm Sweeney | Year Posted 2013
Silly kittens made of fluff
Pouncing, sliding, snagging stuff
Butterflies that float on by
Out of reach but still they try
Rolling wrestling cotton balls
Soon so tired from their falls
Lying down with mommy purring
Not a kitten soon is stirring
Copyright © Rick Zablocki | Year Posted 2013
Baby, I saw you starin' at him,
But you ought to give me a whirl;
'Cuz he's a handsome hunk,
But when he gets drunk
Baby, he likes ugly girls.
Yeah, he still lives with his momma,
Even tho' he's thirty-three.
She starches and irons his jeans and shirts
And he brings home new recipes.
She's told him he's good lookin';
Says, "Women are lustin' after you."
But when he takes a pretty woman home,
Momma says, "Son, she won't be true."
Momma says, "Son, if you want good lovin',
A plain and homely gal will provide.
She'll treat you right, mornin' and night,
And keep you satisfied."
So, baby, you can stare at him;
But you ought to give me a whirl.
'Cuz he's a handsome hunk;
but when he gets drunk,
Baby, he likes ugly girls.
Yeah, Baby.....ugly girls.
You don't stand a chance.
And how that boy loves his momma.
Wouldn't you like to dance?
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2015
My uncle died, was on holiday in Piraeus,
a pig fell off a balcony.
He left a piano and since his wife didn’t
want it in her house, mother took it,
only because it would lend an impression
of high culture,
no one else in our neighbourhood had one.
I played on it day and night,
picked up tunes on radio and played
them on the piano;
people where impressed, mother too,
but she needed her rest worked long hours
at a fish canning factory.
One day, coming home from school,
a big empty space,
I cried mother gave me Danish pastry,
they were a day old but still tasty.
I’m glad she sold the piano, though I might
have ended up a restaurant pianist
driving from town to town playing evergreens
as background music for bored diners;
a bitter pianist who dreams of
becoming a car mechanic.
Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2013
You Are not My Mother
This is a house of cats and these are the rules that must be followed:
•You are not my mother.
•I am allowed to sit or lie wherever I want.
•Just because I don’t have thumbs doesn’t mean I can’t open any door I want if you don’t latch it well.
•When I knock, let me in immediately—it is imperative or I wouldn’t be knocking.
•I want clean water and fresh food twice a day.
•I don’t like a dirty litter box or a change in litter brand so keep it clean.
•If you must let that whinny dog in, keep her away from me.
•I do like your computer, so keep the keyboard out where I can use it.
•Yes, I must accompany you to the bathroom.There is water in there and it is dangerous.
•Bedroom rules:I must have access at all times especially if you’re sleeping.You could stop breathing so I must arouse you often by placing my cold nose on your face and walking up and down your body.I sleep on top of your head to keep your soul from leaving in case you stop breathing.
•Please interpret “I” to mean “WE” and apply to all the above rules.
•Make that girl cat play nice and quit sending rude telepathic thoughts and calling me names.Well you start it. I do not! Oh yes you do.I do not. Poe, whose side are you on. Well she doesn’t hiss at me. She is racist and so are you. Just because I am a different color, you both ignore me. You won’t let me join in your games or lie with you at nap time.We are not racist.You are paranoid.No I’m not. Yes you are. Am not. Are too. And so goes chaos with cats.
Copyright © Sharon Edwards | Year Posted 2015
My abiding memory of 2015 is of events that are so sad
With my father’s death, it’s the worst year I’ve ever had
It has been the most challenging year for me
But with amazing support I remain pretty happy
I don’t want to dwell on events that have past
My memories of the year 2015 will always last
I want to leave the year on a humourous note
With a true tale of a gift that didn’t get my vote!
Mum and I went out to a local church fete
It’s very well attended and the raffle is great
We perused all the stalls and brought a few things
I got some lemon cake and some brand new earrings
The raffle stall bulged with wonderful prizes
With boxes that ranged in all shapes and sizes
One pretty white gift box really caught my eye
Four ‘Dior’ perfume miniatures for a lady to try
We brought some tickets then sat and drank tea
I said to mum, I’ve seen just the prize for me
The raffle got drawn and mum’s ticket was pulled out
I collected the prize of Dior perfume without a doubt
Mum told me I could have it as a Christmas gift
I was overjoyed and it gave my heart a huge lift
The gift box was placed under our little tree
Its pretty gold ribbon was there for all to see
I didn’t open the box on Christmas Day
Until Boxing Day the pretty box did stay
We were going out to friends later that night
I thought my new perfume would be just right
Taking the pretty white box from under the tree
I pondered which scent would be perfect for me
Upon lifting the lid of the perfume box
I returned to the school of hard knocks
To my consternation and my deep chagrin
There was a void where the perfume once had been
An empty box was my only present from my mum
My gift is that I still have mum, so my poem is done.
This is a true story - someone had put an empty box as a raffle prize!
Contest: My abiding Memory
Sponsor: Viv Wigley
9th January 2016
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016
Old Mother Hubbard went to her cupboard and found it bare!
She laughed and said, "Fiddle-dee-dee! What do I care!
I'll jes git some of them food stamps from old Uncle Sam,
And me and my dog will have us a heap of taters and ham!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Hey Soupers! Join me in having a little fun "parodyzing" nursery rhymes!
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2013
A day once created.
A day I will never know.
A day I would love to try.
Planting seeds in a barren land
will not a mother make.
Oh but the joys of trying.
B. J. “A” 2
May 12th, 2007
Copyright © William J. Jr. Atfield | Year Posted 2012
My Mother In Law
Was a view appearing to be panoramic
Of me while I was laying in my hammock
And for my ugliness there was no cure
Much more then anyone could endure
Instead of being on welfare or relief
Living beyond budget was our belief
She even wanted to knock me flat
Because I had said she was so fat.
Was really someone to talk about
And she was a complete knockout
Would often wear me to a frazzle
With her playing all razzle dazzle.
Why would she want to marry me
I am ugly like sin as you can be
What she had was real will power
When she saw me in the shower.
Is anything possible on this earth?
To me might increase my worth
What was done with much glee
They tried to nail me to a tree.
Finally a thought to me did occur
For sure there was no one uglier
So decided this was the last straw
Said I looked like my mother in law.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Pathetic Poet
Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2016
Well I'll Be a Mother of Donald Trump
Worst face ever met
And starts to get better yet
Did with deep regret.
Ugly sure was word
Reference to her had heard
Dumb as dodo bird.
God her son's consent
So could run for President
No money was spent.
Was a barroom smash
Have President who talks trash
Who likes Calabash.
So bye bye for now
Will have to get by somehow
Her under did plow.
Bruised with a big bump
When Democrats want to dump
Should try Donald Trump.
Tried to work out kink
Donald Trump was name of drink
Dumped down kitchen sink.
Death felt when she kissed
What was once we should have missed
Moment it was brisk.
After a brief moment they should
have brisk him away I always say.
Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2016
I’m sure in ancient Egypt, Mrs. Tut was quick to see fit,
To use this compound, that has never been found, in any first aid kit.
I also believe Mrs. Washington, treated Georgie the exact same way,
Long before Valley Forge, or the doctors of today.
It is a mixture stronger than acid, yet gentle as an aloe paste,
That when applied with a smile and a kiss, works with utmost haste.
Blood, dirt, and grease cannot escape, its magical, medical muscle,
And it is easily applied to any child, with very little hassle.
And this healing potion, dispensed with love, works each and every time,
In dealing with every bump and bruise, and a wide assortment of grime.
Among the applicators that are used, are hankie and fingertips,
That delivers the serum to the spot, from Mother’s loving lips.
Copyright © Jerry Troiano | Year Posted 2015
Locked in the largest room of a palace,
you live days in dire existence,
sunshine caresses you with sun rays,
breeze makes you breathe life;
anything at the swish of a wand is
given to you, princess of Wales!
He has no loyal blood in him,
and as many children as you desire,
He can give you-at least two.
A boy who looks exactly like him,
a girl as gorgeous as you...
he can feel inside you'll be his.
Your jealous Queen, can scream her brain out
and tell you, " I don't like that bodyguard is a joker;
he's too poor and childish, he thinks he's another prince,
but he has nothing to give you...stay in your room,
silly Rapunzel! He won't ever climb to this balcony:
your hair is too short and brittle! How can he do that? "
You'll try to convince her that he is a great guy,
" But mom, he loves me more than anybody! "
" Love without money is a tree without fruit!
Riches can buy many jewels! You're the next Queen!
Her anger will shout her up and all will turn to gloom...
while he waits outside and freezing he rubs his red hands.
Her slickness won't last, she must have a weak spot;
if he courts her with his boyish charms, she'll become soft
and forget that her a pretty princess adores him and woos him.
" I got her on my strings...she'll be my animated puppet!"
Infatuation can be blinder than love; he will get her very drunk,
and have her thinking for a minute that she can have him!
The princess and the bodyguard hug; they laugh aloud...
while the Queen sleeps on the sofa and snores, " She's too drunk,
let her sleep for hours; we are going to elope and live happily!
Ah! Such an unfair and vain mother she is! She'll realize that
even money isn't everything...if love palpitates in the heart! "
Try out his trick: be that bodyguard who outsmarted
the Queen and if you get lucky, you must thank him "
Written on 2/2/2016
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2016
of all the sandwiches there are to eat
why does one taste like defeat
it's nothing that i ever craved
just something my mom made
a hamburger or sloppy joe
baloney or meatloaf cold
ham or grilled cheese
BLT if you please
tuna salad or deviled ham
even open up that can of spam
pimento cheese or barbecue
even chicken salad would do
turkey chicken fry an egg
almost anything made of pig
don't forget the p and j
hot dogs are here to stay
meatball or tasty italian
irish corn beef or classic rueben
roast beef or patty melt
steak and cheese will make me shout
before you grind that cute lamb
i am okay with bread and jam
but egg salad is rather plain
of all sandwiches it's mundane
but now mom has passed away
i eat egg salad on her birthday
Copyright © Fritz Purdum | Year Posted 2015
The time has come for me to say goodbye forever
I am not brilliant at expressing my emotions
But in the words of ‘Sealion Dion’ ….
‘I will always love you’
If you check in the filing cabinet
You will find my portfolio of shares
I have kept the Woolworth's certificate it may be valuable
They may resurface one day ….
That’s the wonder of Woolies!
If you ever need a new sofa…. don’t forget these immortal words
The DFS Half Price Sale starts at 10am on Boxing Day!
Contest:- My Parting Gifts
Sponsor:- Viv Wigley
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016