Delighting our Black Caps chaps
Uniting fans fighting nite nite naps
Gaslighting Indian foes mishaps
Rewriting those cricketing maps
As the Black caps hit their straps
Darryl the toast the host soul saps
Gunbarrel straight out of the traps
They unravel yet another six slaps
Our great festive carol never flaps
A late Christmas pressie unwraps
Flicks & tricks spate picks the gaps
Indian spinners fate sinners lapse
Black caps chaps claps & back slaps
Kiwi yippee we see diddy GP scraps
Even that fat cat Virat finally snaps
Zen of Darryl and Glen victory laps
After white-wash a chance perhaps?
Hitch both Ajaz & Mitch under wraps
No Will or Matt but still Indians zaps
The plush crushed can’t turn off taps
Out gunned out spun another collapse
Lush waves rush flush with Black caps
Irish accents quake my female southland.
Males 'neath Newsboy Caps stimulate dreamland.
Irish yearns may want touch,
Did not seek to feel such.
Ireland trips could stimulate mate's backhand.
Yay! Some cold at last, and even a dusting of snow.
We moved back into the dorm—braving knife-like breezes—yesterday.
It was bracing and heroic - do I want it to warm up?
That’s a hard no.
let’s wax poetic..
Think not of winter as bleak
wrap your steely bones warmly, wear a cap
—for gelid wintertide can bind us together.
Midwinter is the time o' the year to be warm hearted,
to find a companion, a creature fair, a lass (or a manly man)
and suggest a more temperate snuggle— it can do no harm to try.
Think not of winter as bleak
make sweet use of flattery, and face cold’s embrace
likewise, cheek to cheek, with a warming and open heart.
.
.
Snowbird by Rani Arbo & Daisy Mayhem
We'll Sing In the Sunshine by Thornbirds
Shooting bottle caps,
ring finger off thumb.
And a little cake -
the two breaks in half,
fixed with melting wax
and lighter.
Light years of 22
in impromptu breakfast party
then the boy is parting
for Tennessee,
to see to making a few bucks.
Toodeloos to Mom, Dad,
Aunts, Uncles, a random cousin
and a visitor. Who
can refuse to fuse together;
never knowing when
this grouping will reoccur?
Always a little drama, a smile,
too many hugs (we huddle).
Call me. I come. Gather
the troops as todays
don’t come around again,
only the memories; and
they fail to capture
the whole snapshot -
bottle caps bouncing
off familial walls.
Fingertips move the keyboard taps,
over time my patience just snaps;
Pulse raises in my bloodstream
hard to hold back a scream
when you shout at me in caps.
white caps of
Kilimanjaro...
crest...wind-blown, shoreward
How swiftly my thoughts fly now
to corduroy pants and caps
Facing a howling northeaster
whistles, the rally of hunting dogs
~ the pointer locked, stock-still
All the hats to destroy
To say hats off
All the hats to destroy
To say caps off
Melting ice caps do not bother me.
I know they are not great for polar bears,
but if I was in the north, would I want to face one?
No. Certainly not.
I do wish we could channel the melting ice down a tunnel
that would provide fresh water for the southern states.
California would love to tap into extra water right now.
Arizona and Nevada could use some irrigation also
especially since the snowbirds insist on planting greenery.
Melting ice caps not only do not bother me,
because I am not in charge of them.
I learned a long time ago, to not even be
bothered by things I am in charge of,
and it has freed me up to enjoy my life much better.
In this age of instant communication
Sending my thoughts with great elation
CAPS do the trick
For those a bit thick
Sorry for shouting from the far away location
save the pitch
caps
don't suit me
***
Graduation Day
Caps Gowns -- Smiles Sounds -- Cheers Beers Tears...
School - Goodbye...Life - Hi!
In this age of instant communication
Sending my thoughts with great elation
CAPS do the trick
For those a bit thick
Sorry for shouting from the far away location
A beige sun cap was found
floating in the lake where
he was last seen swimming.
A cradle cap lies with the sweet
powdery baby scent still
lingering in her empty crib.
A blue baseball ball cap on
wet pavement amidst broken
glass fragments and bent bicycle.
A green girl scout cap clinging
to brush over the side of a cliff
where sun dried grasses grow.
A white graduation cap amidst
the mangled magenta Mazda,
broken beer bottle below the boughs.
A veteran camouflage cap half
burried in the desert sands, sun
bleached, made in the U.S. of A.
7-28-17
Bought my grandkids Caps for Sale
And checked when it was written -
Back in 1940! Still,
The story has me smitten.
A peddler cannot sell the caps
He carries on his head
And so he takes a nap beneath
A giant tree instead.
On waking, all the caps are gone
But way up in the tree
A monkey's perched on every branch
And guess what we can see?
On each one's head there is a cap
Which he will not surrender.
The peddler, in frustration,
Leads us to the happy ender.
He shakes his fists and stamps his feet,
The monkeys imitating,
Then throws his own cap on the ground
And without hesitating,
The simians all follow suit
So all the caps come falling.
The peddler piles them on his head
And keeps on with his calling:
"Caps for sale! For 50 cents!"
The guy gets props for trying.
The story leaves us with a smile
(Though no one still is buying).
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