the quilting festival is an event where grandma lingers.
Her friends are there – Mag, Charlene and Mrs. Fingers.
They try to pretend it is not a competition at all.
But they drag their secrets outside in the middle of fall.
Oh, my, I never saw that red and green one before!
Gram says to Mrs. McDiggins, the Irish gal next door.
McDiggins is grinning like a sailor who is in his cups.
I thought I had shown it to you she fibs to McGupps.
Their masterpieces on display, they watch everyone’s fingers.
Dirty nails and palms had better not stay to paw, touch or linger.
They want the oohs and aahs but they want their work pristine.
Gram comes home every year bragging she is the “quilting queen”.
I once knew a young fellow named Swanson
Who bragged about his enormous johnson
He caught it in a zipper
Which was a painful ripper
And now, he no longer touts his once-on.
written August 14, 2021
compound word verse
Any youngster can make us smile
It's special, when it's our grandchild
it's awesome.
A new grandson brings on more fun
blond-haired, blue-eyed, the smallest one
cuddlesome.
A twelve year old girl, full of joy
Eight year old brother, busy boy
now threesome.
Shelley, Brendon and baby Case
once empty nest, a lively place
not lonesome.
Baby noise rattles our rafters
crying, sucking, burping, laughters
he's winsome.
March 20, 2014
Oh ya ,well my mom makes better apple pie
Really,well my mom makes brownies
With peacans and chocolate icing
Thats nothing, my mom sewed me this new sweater from scratch
Well my Dad can fix my bike anytime it breaks,
My Dad sells bikes and got mine for free
A hush,
My Dad left when i was 3, no bike for me.
Poems come so easily
I don’t take time to be
known as poet spectacular.
I tend to spew them out.
They neither shine nor shout.
But, do rhyme in poetic vernacular.
Not about Me!!! I have to work hard for mine.
© Apr 13 2010
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