Long Up the creek Poems
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Drip…Drip…Glop…Glop!
Hydrants on – water stops
Scorching heat – summer’s here
Water scarcity paves the fear!
Water for bathing and even cleaning
Ice-water chugging only for dreaming!
No water to wash clothes or dishes
Only dripping drips and glopping glops always misses
The ever-streaming fountain waters of the faucets
Scorching heat has no raindrops to even pause it!
Soaking up the summer sun is drying up the creek
Even birds dive their beak
Into bird-bathing tubs and ponds
To refresh themselves while they bond
With even puddles, swamps, and ponds!
Such is the soul that seeks not the Lord
Spirit quenches; soul deters; loss one cannot afford!
Drying heart and withering mind
Panting spirit; panting soul; never finds place to unwind!
Panic strikes fearful expectations
With no foreseeable explanations
All the signs of a soul’s dehydration!
One may feel a thinning creek seeping through
A trickle of peace painting your blues,
Dripping drops of gladness or cheer
Should one praise and feel God near
For but a single moment ‘til praise arrives to full completion
But, one’s world returns to deterred depletion!
That’s when you know something stones your resurrection!
A little explanation leading to confession is the right direction
To relieve you from further pursuit of your dehydrant frustrations!
If there’s ever a pebble stoning your way
Hindering your peace every day
Blocking your steps to stepping into God’s throne room
And blocking your sunlight with feelings of gloom,
While you find yourself entrapped in a circle of strife and fear,
And can only draw a thin-flowing creek of joy and cheer,
I’ll have you know that sins are lies
That only untie
When sin is confessed and forsaken!
Take the Word…it’s NEVER mistakin’
Truth, then, will shine its light
Forever bright
Floodgates of heaven will burst wide open
Desert Rivers and streams will halt your mopin’
When you elevate your praise to God above,
The Father of Light…The Father of Love….
“Behold! I am about to do something new; even now it is coming! Do you not see it? Indeed, I will make a way in the wilderness and streams in the desert” Isaiah 43:19
I kept all of my money in my mattress instead of a bank.
It was stolen last week and I only have myself to thank.
I have never trusted banks, that's why my mattress was stuffed.
I want to buy a hot dog but I'm so poor that I don't have enough.
I'd like to strangle the thief, he's a dirty crook and a rotten louse.
I can't pay my mortgage and the bank is going to take my house.
I had three million bucks stuffed in my mattress.
My wife left me today and now I'm so depressed.
Now I'm up the creek without a paddle and my boat just sank.
Don't make the same mistake that I did, keep your money in a bank.
(Even though this fictional poem is intended to be funny, it's not a good idea for
people to keep large sums of money in their homes.)
Your lips are moving, mine are too
With stories and tales from all those years ago
But the more you say, the worse I feel
Because I never lived
I never lived
Tales of a romance born when you were too young to know
Of experiments made when your chances were low
Of getting caught underneath the stairs
And now all I can do is stare
At the wall, plain and white and bare
Like my life prior to that dare
That I made when I was young and
Dumb enough to think I knew it all
You've lived it all
And I've never even left my room
But I'll fake it anyway
What good has the real story done anyway?
You ask me for a story of mine
I stutter and trip over a single line
"I had no friends, I raised myself."
Is the truth that I say
The truth that I say
And God, it just tears me up that my peers had such fun
Living it up, making mistakes when they were young
I never lived a day, never took a chance
And only now I take a glance
At the wall, crawling ivy taking it
Seeds of spirit growing to fit
Between the cracks
Weathered on the face by time
Nobody wanted to see me
But I tried so hard to shine
So bright they couldn't ignore me
Luck never shined on me
And still you talk
Talk about things I wish I'd lived
Lived to make my own mistakes
To seize my own day
And still you talk
Talk about things I'd love to see
See with my eyes to know I'm here
And seize my own day
So I could talk
Talk about how I messed up
Up the creek with a homemade paddle
To seize my own day
God, I wish I could talk
Talk about how I lived my days
Days spent making something perfect
But what good did dreams ever do for me anyway?
As I sit alone old and gray
in the darkness of the night
I should be sad and sorry
when I look back at my life
The loves that I have gone through
which caused me mortal pain
The money I have pissed away
and thrown youth down the drain
I lost my land and my house
my credit and my doe
Yes, I'm up the creek without
a paddle, with which to row
I've seen my friends all drift away
and my family dying slow
I fly without a net these days
for there's no safe place to go
I'm here alone old and gray
What's left to do but die
So, I look up at the heavens
And ask the question "Why"
of course the answer, may take time
Perhaps another year
So on the brighter side of life
There's this cooler packed with beer
From his sweetie Dave took lots of guff
'Cause his beard was mighty ruff
Too bad you get fewer kisses, Dave
Try Burma Shave - its all the rave!
Do you sprout a very wild stubble?
Have you heard of the latest rave?
You'd save yerself a ton of trouble
Taming yer mug with Burma Shave!
We feel very sorry for poor Walter
His bride left him standing at the altar!
His whiskers scratched her lovely face
Should-a used Burma Shave to save face!
Is that 5 o'clock shadow giving you stress?
And are the ladies noticing you less?
Then, on yer mug you should slather
A creamy coat of Burma Shave lather!
While they were dancing cheek to cheek
Said she, "Go paddle up the creek!
You scratched my face, you hairy knave!
Next time treat yer mug with Burma Shave!"
Christmas 1952
By Franklin Price
12/24/2015
Christmas 1952, I'm almost sure that's right
Memory's a little clouded, it was Christmas eve at night
There was no tree with lights aglow, no presents I could see
Had Santa Claus forgotten us, especially little me?
The radio was playing a Christmas melody
For we would not have a TV 'til 1953
My mother said, “It's getting late, Santa's on his way.
He will not stop, if you don't sleep, will have no presents Christmas day”
I was young but was not stupid, so I quickly went to bed
As I drifted off to dreamland, I heard sleigh bells in my head
Had left some milk and cookies where I thought he'd put the tree
Santa decorated for us, for my family and me
Didn't question where he found the time or why it was that way
Just knew that I would find it there, come Christmas morning day.
Had been warned to stay in bed, not even try to peek
Santa might not leave the presents and I'd be up the creek
I stayed in bed and went to sleep, though I didn't think I could
Didn't want to miss my presents, 'cause I knew that I'd been good
Woke up early Christmas morning, was long before the light
Went into my parents' room, woke them up, 'twas only right
“Has Santa left me presents and a decorated tree?”
They sleepily got out of bed, said, “let's go down the stairs and see”
Of course I did not wait for them, I no longer was a tike
The tree was lit and beside it was a twenty incher bike!
This was what I had told Santa when I sat upon his knee
“I'm old enough to ride two wheels, let a bike my present be”
(I really didn't talk that way but this story has to rhyme
With that I'll end this Christmas poem of another day and time)
I hope your Christmas memories are at least as good as mine
We never had much money but Christmas was so fine
Santa found a way to make the memories quite dear
I look back in awe, and wonder how he did it year to year
This Christmas season is much too bleak
The pandemic is sending it up the creek
because the elves are sick with Carona Virus
A situation that's far from being desirous
and getting worse with every passing week
Even the reindeer are wearing a sad frown
There won't be enough toys to go all around
and now Santa is infected with the Covid germ
Mrs. Claus is so worried, she's started to squirm
The world is tensed on the edge of a lockdown
I heard Santa talking to the North Pole Mayor
hoping to postpone the holiday everywhere
How will parents soothe children when they see
that no presents were left beneath the tree?
"The Grinch stole Christmas, and that's not fair!"
down the stairs
down the creek
creek is down
creek is flowing
flowing fast
flowing under
under glass
under pass
pass it over
pass it slow
slow poke
slow down
down and around
down for the count
count the money
count is under
under siege
under the sun
sun is hot
sun went down
down beat
down south
south west
south bound
bound up
bound down
down the road
down time
time out
time to go
go slow
go under
under appreciate
under paid
paid down
paid up
up the creek
up or down
down wind
down a well
well is full
well is deep
deep pockets
deep and down
down and out
down and down
down under
down bridge
bridge
under
© Eve Roper 8/11/2015
Contest Name: Down Under
Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi
Once I wrote a verse about an earthquake in the town
I also wrote in detail of a comet coming down
How many words of war and peace have issued from my pen
I wrote a superhero gran and then wrote her again
I’ve written words to make you laugh and some to make you cry
With lots of words about the bold and some about the shy
And when I had to find a word that rhymed well with Venus
I found a way to skip the awkward thought that passed between us
And yet I sit here now and cannot write a single letter
I feel as though I’m ailing and I hope I’ll soon be better
How can a pen so bountiful be so devoid of ink
How can a mind so fruitful find it difficult to think
How could I write an ode a day but now not one a week
It seems I’m in a trough and I shall never find a peak
I know I’m not alone and that the words I long to speak
Will spring forth very soon… or else I’m really up the creek
I can no longer touch my toes
Or stop an unexpected runny nose,
It has become an issue
To find a handkerchief or tissue.
My loo has moved
I am not sure
It seems farther away than it was before
I often have to try to run
Before I realised what I'd done.
I now have a shower chair
Where I bathe and wash my hair
I mutter to myself all-day
I hope nobody can hear the things I say.
My grey matter is fading fast,
I wonder how long it will last
My social life is up the creek
As I am at the Doctors every week.
A specialist sent me to the gym
To strengthen my muscles
To help improve the state I'm in
You would laugh if you could see
The aerobic ancient Old Duck me.
I now row a machine
That's never been
Near water
I walk on a treadmill
Although I falter.
The weights I can't lift very high
Perhaps next session,
I'll have a better try,
I love the exercise bike.
I can travel anywhere
I like.
Even though I don't move
My imagination improves
As I cycle down the country lane
I feel like a girl again.