All blondes wear diamond rings and drive Mercedes so old.
All brunettes wear green straw hats and plant marigolds.
All tall people play golf on Saturdays and are Methodists winkers.
All Americans are overweight donut-eating, chocolate milk drinkers.
All Africans wear their hair in braids, and despise tattoos of a girl.
All Mexicans like hot taco sauce and dance in a frenzied whirl.
All old people want to be young, and resent their mother.
All only children want siblings, wishing they had a brother.
All men want a crazy, out-of-control woman in their bedroom.
All divorcees want to marry a millionaire who is not full of gloom.
All Republicans want a dictator to be president who is angry and blue.
All liberals want to give free food to the undocumented, and do.
The minute you think of people as a group of “all” you are wrong.
Please memorize this poem, and sing it as a song.
If you cannot see this by now, then I must join the throng.
For I have written this poem entirely wrong.
Categories:
methodists, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Rhyme
A God-honored teacher, Miss Ruth Vance
His gift to our town, His circumstance.
No replacing her bulging tote bag -
It was priceless, minus the Gucci tag."
and now the rest of the story....
Teacher extraordinaire, Miss Ruth Vance
taught eighth graders about life, perchance.
From first grade to twelfth, school musician.
Music was her primary mission.
For Halloween, she'd parade the whole school
round and round the gym! What a jewel!
Her eighth graders always danced the May Pole.
Pomp and Circumstance, our seniors' goal.
Christmas plays displayed her special niche;
school choirs of all ages sang without a hitch.
Our Mary Poppins with overstuffed school bag -
Miss Ruth, musician, teacher and wag.
Sundays at noon, she played the town postlude
doors thrown wide open, all ears were glued...
Baptists, Methodists going home from church
heard Miss Ruth, at her Presbyterian perch.
January 4, 2021
contest: Clerihew
sponsor: Regina McIntosh
Categories:
methodists, 11th grade, christmas, halloween,
Form: Clerihew
She read one of her poems on TV.
For all the world to hear and see.
She also spoke softly of all her pain,
To show all the world what she had gained.
To the magazines she told her story,
To show the world, the before, the after, then the glory.
On the radio she told what it was like,
She told the world while she held the mike.
For ten whole years she answered letters from far and near,
From others who also had the fear.
Then one day she just gave it all up, and said no more.
AGORAPHOBIA, you won’t come back to my door,
It’s time to put you in the past where you belong.
While she goes off to sing a song,
At little Ps, the Methodists or J.A.M.
Singing nursery rhymes, just being NAN,
And maybe in her spare time,
She will still write the occasional rhyme.
Categories:
methodists, dedication, depression, devotion, family,
Form: Rhyme