The farmer looked on sown fields with dismay,
Be-spotted with tiny holes in despoiled array.
Each spot where mice had dug up and eaten.
Wheat seeds sown with mice-controls well beaten.
The farmer had tried to poison the mice.
Tried birds of prey once or twice.
Tried cats and smelly scent deterrents,
All to no avail to beat the endless recurrence.
One night the farmer awoke from fitful sleep.
Ah Hah! I have an idea cheap, neat and deep.
What if I make the entire field smell of wheat,
By spraying the field all over with wheat-oil neat?
Sure enough, the over spray with oil worked a treat.
The mice dug a myriad of holes with tiny feet,
Where their smell, said wheat should be,
Only to find all their holes empty, no seed to see.
Frustrated, exhausted they paused their paws.
Cursed their noses, tricked by the scent-only cause.
A wheat field, over-sown with superfluousness,
Made their search, dig to eat meaningless.
We yearned for rain, for spring had been so dry.
We got wet one day. Would things get better?
The sun blazed so intensely in the sky.
Only in the park’s pool could we get wetter.
Then came the time of our celebration.
We’d sweltered until Independence Day.
A pelting rain caused no great elation,
for picnics and fireworks that rain did slay!
But rain it did, and it’s been surprising
for rarely has it stopped! Eight days have passed,
and everyone I know is now surmising
we’ll soon have flooding. How long will this last?
We’d prayed for rain to aid in the crops’ growing,
yet the sound of pounding rain keeps going.
It’s great to see family on Christmas Day
To watch the grandchildren so joyful and gay
But next day I put my feet up and I say
Boy, am I glad that they didn’t stay
Freedom
To write poems
Anytime! ~ Diminished
Excitement about that special
Privilege
Some things are hard to define.
When good turns to bad –
It’s a fine line.
Sarcasm steps over wit;
As the imposter of a joke,
Makes an indirect hit.
Teasing which was once fun;
Can morph into taunting,
When enjoyed by just one.
Assertion is an individual right,
But, if it goes too far;
A two-way fight.
Honesty, seen as a positive thing;
Sometimes is used as an excuse
To inject a critical sting.
Barbara Campbell August 3, 2015
Too Much of a Good Thing
When the ship´s cook had toothache and went to
the dentist the crew and her captain ate at a hamburger
joint near the docks and they loved it.
As it appeared that the cook needed a new set of teeth
that would take days; the captain hired the short-order cook
at the joint. It started out so great burgers every day,
sometimes, with cheese, bacon and eggs… always with fries.
After a week the crew grew restless, hamburgers again!
Can´t this man cook anything else? They spoke longingly
about juicy beef steaks, baked fish, pot-roast and soups,
and the short-order cook was an unhappy man.
The captain knew he had a mutiny in the making and sent
the ship´s cook a message; “Teeth or no teeth you are
urgently needed, please join the ship in Panama City.
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