Once upon a time, on New Year’s Eve,
We dressed and then we headed out,
For gathering with friends was what
The holiday was all about.
We drank and partied, maybe even
Danced and sang a little bit
And laughed and schmoozed and only
Hours past midnight did we finally split.
Tonight, though, after many years,
We dressed and left to eat at 5,
Enjoying quite a lovely meal,
Relieved we didn’t have to drive.
And now we’ll watch TV, enjoying
“Twilight Zones” as time will creep,
Until, at last, the ball will drop
While both of us, exhausted, sleep.
Categories:
schmoozed, change, today,
Form: Rhyme
At Seder 1 we helped prepare
The soup and matzoh balls served there,
The hard-boiled eggs and chicken dressed
In farfel flakes, which tastes the best.
At tables set to serve sixteen,
With kids and grandfolk on the scene,
We read and sang, sipped wine and juice,
The atmosphere relaxed and loose.
The meal complete, the kids ran ‘round,
The afikomen finally found.
The grown-ups schmoozed, dessert consumed
‘Til things slowed down as bedtime loomed.
For Seder 2, we hit the road
And drove in windshield-wiper mode
To visit family miles away
Where overnight we planned to stay.
The Seder table, set for five,
Did beckon us to keep alive
Within Haggadahs Ken revised
The same old tale, but modernized.
We dug into delicious food,
Conversing in a festive mood.
No kids around, but Darby’s tail
Was wagging on an epic scale.
Two Seders, different and unique,
To welcome in this matzoh week
Were back-to-back reminders of
The past and present, fused with love.
Categories:
schmoozed, holiday, jewish,
Form: Rhyme
How many remember pitching horseshoes
Dating myself, remember when we schmoozed
Naughty that was
Today, no big fuss
Normal as pooping, it's no longer big news
Categories:
schmoozed, memory,
Form: Limerick
SOUP RAP
You can pass me the biscuits, get a chicken from the coup
An give me a bowl of poetry soup
Since I schmoozed wid da muse an I started to write
It’s sure given me a real big appetite
Cos until last year I ain't never writ a poem
From my brain to my fingers didn't know which way I’m goin
But I now got da buzz, verses poppin hip hoppin
I'll keep on 'til they tell me it's time to be stoppin
We got poems that are sad we got poems that are glad
We got poems that say 'why you treatin me so bad!'
We got poems that are tough we got poems that are gentle
Poems so sentimental that they drive me nearly mental
Poems written in a purple haze alcoholic
Poems written in a field - pastoral and bucolic
See I'm learnin to be lit'rate usin good words not obscene
Words like pastoral an' bucolic whatever they mean
So gimme dat soup from the big tureen
Diip my pen in the saurus if you know what I mean
When the words are plated I’ll be re-stim-u-lated
And my verses contemplated be appre-ci-ated
So put your hands in the air all you poetry soupers
Get it on, solid gone, you da troupers souper douper
Categories:
schmoozed, humor,
Form: Rhyme
Acid Metaphoric was overused
Professor Doctor Hubbub was confused
"It might have been stolen
Or it might have swollen"
With tabby cats Professor Hubbub schmoozed
(C) rajat kanti chakrabarty
2014, 3rd December
Categories:
schmoozed, fun, nonsense,
Form: Limerick