Best Parkas Poems
If bees have knees
They must be quite tiny
What about elbows
Or a cute tiny heinie?
And what about thighs
That end at the knees?
Do they ever wear shorts?
Are they hassled by fleas?
Now how about hair
Is it long and flowing?
Do they wear tiny parkas
When winter wind's blowing?
When one tells a joke
Do the other ones giggle?
Can they write with a pen
Does it look like a squiggle?
Do you know what scares 'em?
Do they have any fears?
When a bee friend dies
Do they cry honey tears?
© Jack Ellison 2012
There are people that imagine it never gets warm
Way up in Canada where cold weather's the norm
In July we unzip our fur-lined parkas
While carving away on a newly killed carcass
Then on to our dog sled through an another snowy storm
LOL
I was standing in my dining room, drinking a cup of coffee, staring out the window the other day. Across the street is the school bus stop, so for a brief time, each morning there stands a collection of young students, mindlessly milling around until the bus arrives. Of note is that this is winter time in Maine. Temperatures in the teens and twenties are the norm. Yet, there stood at least two boys, wearing parkas and, to my surprise and chagrin, shorts. What is the matter with kids today.
Then I thought about when I was a kid and how my mother would always be concerned that, when in my teens, I never buttoned or zipped up my coat. Didn't bother me near as much as it did her.
Where I grew up, there were no yellow buses. We all walked to school. In the summer, it was fun to jostle with your friends, sharing lies and tall tales with each other. But in the winter, it was quite something else again. Mom would dress us in the kitchen. Padded snow pants over which she would pull on and snap up a pair of rubber boots. They were called galoshes then. Next came a scarf over which a frayed but warm coat was buttoned, all the way up to the neck. Lastly, my prized leather aviator cap with shear-ling lined ear flaps, and of course, the requisite mittens, which when very young, were pinned to our sleeves.
Our books were carried in an old green book bag, cinched at the top and thrown over our shoulder, or more often then not, swung around or dragged during our school ward journey. Funny how I remember all this , but I don't remember ever being cold, even when my face was apple red. It was just something you did. If you weren't going to school, you would be playing outside anyway. Winter was subjective.
So when you hear the stories from your grandpa about how he used to walk to school in waist high snow and how the trip was uphill, both ways, you may want to think back on the fun you had, and how much those kids across the street are missing.
We got really dumped on yesterday
Was hoping we would miss out on this one
But must remember, this is Canada!
The land of ice and snow and parkas and snow shoes
At least that's the general perception
We have electricity and runny water and even indoor toilets
And not only that, we have radio
However, the powers that be are promising TV before 2020
Okay okay, I'm exaggerating a wee bit
We just recently got indoor plumbing
Hmmm, strangely my tongue seems to be stuck firmly in my cheek
But we are a hearty bunch
On January 1st every year, some of our real hearty dudes
Take a dip in the Ottawa River
They're called the “Polar Bear Club”
I have a different name for them!!!!!
I call them the “Those That Have A Screw Loose Club”
They urgently need to seek psychiatric help
As backward as we are, we DO have medicare... yee haw!
So we can take all kinds of risks we wouldn't normally take
Like clomping down the middle of our major thoroughfares
Making sure we watch out for the occasional snowmobile
And wearing our stylish snowshoes and parkas
A hearty bunch we are!!!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Hubby works for a Corporation called the... Well, I’m not allowed to say.
He answers telephones. Really! EVEN with his great degree, every day!
But, now, remember this is a Corporation, and they do stuff differently!
They leave the air conditioners on, when it’s still winter at, 10 BELOW!
A worker controls the temperature… from 8 states away, so has his fun!
Everyone works in parkas, gloves, and earmuffs, every, single day, bar none!
It wouldn’t continue if the Uppity Ups, didn’t work in warmer rooms above!
Darn those Corporations, they have no common sense, what-so-ever, at all!
All the chairs are broken, that’s hard, since they’re rocks from a prehistoric age!
And all have to scavenge for working earphones, around the room, every day!
The computer tools aren’t working, someone mysteriously, turned them off.
But they still want one call resolution, of all problems in ten minutes or less.
The pay is next to nothing, so the Company stock looks SO good, by gosh!
Benefits and HR are in India, where they don’t understand any English, at all!
All the pay increases were capped, oh, about eight or maybe, ten years ago!
Now they’ve quit hiring those who finished high school, and want to work.
There’s even been fights in what has now, been designated, as Hoodlum Row.
They’re here, for the long run, and don’t even bother, to answer their phones!
The entire town was shut down due to snow, and if you didn’t come in that day…
Well, you know the story, someone in another state, simply, docked your pay!
They had asked to use vacation time, but that took 2 months to fix, by the way!
Quitting time is obvious, as all the bosses mysteriously, suddenly, drift away.
The penguins came with Hubby one day, and have come back, every day since.
Their snowball fights, in the aisles, are legendary each and every day! Amen!
They don’t complain, love the cold, answer the phones, and people quickly hang up!
Since the customers can’t understand what they say… they’re handle time, rocks!
Hubby snuck a plastic spoon from the lunchroom, which he guards with his very life.
It helps him tremendously, as he digs out thru the ice, when it comes to quitting time.
Collaboration Carol and (Hubby)
There are people that imagine it never gets warm
Way up here in Canada where cold weather's the norm
In July we unzip our fur lined parkas
While carving away on a newly killed carcass
Then on to our dog sled through a another snowy storm
© Jack Ellison 2015
It's a mid December morning,
and it's 85 degrees.
There are no cool breezes blowing,
just some high humidity.
Yes, I'd like to build a snowman,
but it's hot out as can be.
Down here in South Florida,
there will be no snow for me!
No, it doesn't feel like Christmas,
more like a celebration in July.
Yes, I'd like to build a snowman,
it's no use to even try.
I'll turn my AC down to freezing,
but I don't think that it'll help.
Yes, I want to build a snowman,
but it will only melt.
There is no change of seasons,
trees don't even drop their leaves.
The only thing that changes,
are the license plates you see.
It's too warm to feel like Christmas,
on this we can agree.
I want to build a snowman,
but there is no snow for me.
The lights are strung along the facia,
decorations placed upon the tree.
Local garbage trucks all advertise,
they'll remove your snow for free
Here in this land of sunshine,
Summer’s never out of reach.
While you’re bundled up in parkas,
I’m sipping margaritas on the beach.
Singing Christmas carols isn't quite the same.
There’s no snow to pull the sleigh through,
just a surfboard and some waves.
To my northern friends and family.
Won't you send some snow this way?
Yes, I want to build a snowman!
But for Christmas in South Florida,
it’s in the sand we'll play.
~JJR
Godspeed, Farewell
Good riddance, I say,
Godspeed and farewell,
Full of your damage and misery of cold,
Let me forget you as I grow old.
Let me not think that you will come back,
Give me the sun of sunshine days,
One by one with the freedom they bring,
To walk, to hang out, to daydream, to gaze.
Birds chirp louder on bright summer days,
They pick and peck, and I think they praise,
Our lord doesn't take as many of our friends,
We are not saddened by too many "ends."
Other seasons let us open doors,
Speak to a neighbor, have dinner outdoors,
Not bound by parkas, we can go here and there,
Fans, air conditioning, breezy nights our fare.
Oh, there are those who like the cold,
To stay inside, with a fire alone,
Not me, good riddance I again say.
Godspeed, Farewell, to winter days
Pussy willows are growing
By by a creek running free
Tiny little tufts of soft fur
Are very appealing to me
Wrapped in parkas
Around their chins
Insulated from
The March winds
In the month of April
Leaves will appear again
And Nature's little kittens
Will make the children grin
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Suppose we ran it by a friendly Martian
(I’d say “by Martial”, but he wouldn’t be gentle).
You crave Armani, Hugo Boss, Versacci and
that Hilfiger who’s naff, naff. Are you mental?
This myth of exclusivity’s juvenile
(I’d offer “Juvenal”, but you’d refuse).
They’re mass-produced, ubiquitous, stock-piled,
your Sarah Jessica Parkas, Jimmy Shoes.
The Martian, then. We wrap ourselves in rags
to ward off cold, conceal the family jewels,
but put a brand name on those skirts and bags,
you’ll cough up ten times more. “You bloody fools!”
Apartheid is an evil thing, agreed?
South Africa once practised it. You struck.
You staked out embassies, until the blacks were freed.
Embargoes, sanctions, boycotts – oh, such pluck!
But none of you’s besieging Tel Aviv.
Our Martian’s wondering what the difference is.
Ramallah’s raped without a by-your-leave,
but you’re at Burghley, knocking back bucks fizz.
Perhaps we can’t extinguish all life’s fires.
Perhaps compassion tires, and needs its pauses.
Or is there just a chance that it transpires,
there’s such a thing we’ll call “designer causes”?
Theresa Marie lives in the cold frozen north
To venture outside she bundles up of course
With parkas and mukluks
Though temperatures sucks
This hearty young sweetie ventures forth
© Jack Ellison 2014
Corporation Blues
Hubby works for a Corporation called the... Well, I’m not allowed to say.
He answers telephones. Really! EVEN with his great degree, every day!
But, now, remember this is a Corporation, and they do stuff differently!
They leave the air conditioners on, in winter at, 10 BELOW, you see!
A worker controls the temperature… from 8 states away, so has his fun!
Everyone works in parkas, gloves, and earmuffs, every single day, bar none!
It wouldn’t continue if the Uppity Ups, didn’t work in warmer rooms above!
Darn those Corporations, they have no common sense, what-so-ever, at all!
All the chairs are broken, that’s hard, since they’re rocks from a prehistoric age!
And all have to scavenge for working earphones, around the room, every day!
The computer tools aren’t working, someone mysteriously, turned them off.
But they still want one call resolution, of all problems in ten minutes or less.
The pay is next to nothing, so the Company stock looks SO good, by gosh!
Benefits and HR are in India, where they don’t understand English, at all!
All the pay increases were capped, oh, about eight or maybe, ten years ago!
Now they’ve quit hiring those who finished high school, and want to work.
There’s even been fights in what has now, been designated, as Hoodlum Row.
They’re here, for the long run, and don’t even bother, to answer their phones!
The entire town was shut down due to snow, and if you didn’t come in that day…
Well, you know the story, someone in another state, simply, docked your pay!
They had asked to use vacation time, but that took 2 months to fix, by the way!
Quitting time is obvious, as all the bosses mysteriously, suddenly, drift away.
The penguins came with Hubby one day, and have since came back, every day.
Their snowball fights, in the aisles, are legendary! What can I say, but… Amen!
They don’t complain, love the cold, answer phones, and people quickly hang up!
Since the customers don’t understand what they say, they’re handle time, rocks!
Hubby snuck a plastic spoon from the lunchroom, which he guards with his life.
It helps him tremendously, as he digs out thru the ice, at quitting time, so right!
Collaboration Carol and (Hubby)
Babies cry, sleep, change nappies, feed. Toddlers drink water from cups. Younger brothers, younger sister, older brother, older sister, small town, large country.
One lane roads, one lane bridges, unsealed, 60mph, in the dark. Bush covered gorges, rail lines across the river, small waterfalls, windows down, no seatbelts in the back seat, lying down, sleeping on the rugs, stopping for carsick ones on the edges. Mum singing, Dad driving, children counting dead possums.
The ways into town run through a long winding gorge or a longer winding coastal road, both prone to slips. Nearest cities Christchurch, Nelson, 200 miles away. Only referred to as the Coast, with its own dialect, only belonging when born there.
Biscuits four trays, oven
Bread hot water cupboard rising, Dad late
Holden Kingswood written off, dead bull
Packs, boots, carbide lamps, white fizzy hosing down leggings, parkas, gumboots, bikes, back porch full.
Flames warm quality coal
Sheet lightening children’s window race
Nothing more calming than the thunder of the rain.
At birds' eye view, from an icy frosty windowsill,
8 stories high: I see a city forest full of snowy powdery
pillow packs stacked
These are spread out making a white-out
of black streets lanes
Then piles of pearly ivory fluffy flakes
cascading into tall white iceberg mounds;
greatly abounding in an isolated city that is fully bound
Trees huddled and cover themselves in
white parkas; this of snowflake designed fleeces creating
a blanket white newly made canvas for me the delighted Artist
People are frozen in their village,
neighborhoods being effectuated with the
season's frigid chilly chilled cooled air;
nipping at many red young and old numb ears
Ice vapors of a foggy mist
does tint white car's windowsills
The City sidewalks and streets has
transparently merged into one white snow sheet
Snow summits also rise high with
white zenith peak tops
People are enjoying forming
snow tunnels and igloos and
snow men and snow angels
And some people sculpt ice statues
These come into being at just below
zero temperatures of freezing
Icicles are nature's cold calling cards;
this having a very slick and cold feel touch
At this time youngsters are receiving their
reddish noses and pink red rose cheeks
Black boots, snow shoes sink in a
foot deep of snow slushing to race home
A flurry of snow scene experiences
are how most winters are known back home
The tossing of powder with frost-bite
fingers and colorful blue hue toes that are ice cold
This season has its celebration of the Christmas day: this
the time of “Christ Birth,” the reason why I and others do pray
The theme of all things each and every day; in a heart that is very merry,
light hearted and amazed for the many wonders given to us yesterday,
today and years to come every glorious day
This winter's been one big dump of snow
Will it ever stop or even just slow down
The neighborhood's come together
So we can all get out from under
We're struggling bundled in our parkas
Giving our shovels quite the workout
We're putting them to the test
Hardly giving them a bit of rest
Digging pushing throwing scraping
All while dreaming in prismacolor
Picturing a bright summer day
Smells of barbecue at our block party
Today's first order of the day
Get our shovels to scrape this snow away
AP: Honorable Mention 2020