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Best Poems Written by David Mchattie

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Details | David Mchattie Poem

The Turnip and the Cabbage

A Turnip and a Cabbage
    are walking down the street.
This may seem a might peculiar 
    as they hadn't any feet.
Before you judge and criticize, 
    I beg your minds to wander.
To take a moment just to see 
    on what the herbage ponders.

The Cabbage says, 'The sun is out, 
    it makes a lovely day.
It is nice to see the other Plants 
    we meet along the way.'
The Turnip nods approvingly, 
    the Cabbage is his chum.
For every day they walk this way
     as they both begin to hum.
There are no words, no songs they know, 
    they no not how to sing.
But they cannot miss what they do not know
     so no sadness does it bring.

They leave the street and find a trail 
    leading to a brook.
Where they find a tree, a friend of theirs
     looking at a book.
'What do you have?' The Turnip says 
    with interest in his voice.
'Something bad, you should not see 
    but I leave it to your choice.'

He hands the book, which Turnip takes 
    while Cabbage jumps to see.
They flip the pages, both in awe, 
    they gasp and ask the tree.
'Where did you get this?' Such a story, 
    we do not believe our eyes.
What Plant would write of such a state? 
    It surely must be lies.'

The tree responds, 'These sad affairs 
    happened long ago.
By a species less developed 
    with little wisdom to bestow.
They were unkind... some cruel and dark, 
    always out for more.
They hated each other and were prone to cheat, 
    they invented a thing called War.
They fought tooth and nail for shiny objects, 
    over which they fussed.
Destroyed themselves... their culture gone, 
    a victim to their lust.'

The Cabbage and the Turnip
     let out a cushioned sigh.
But Turnip strains, 'I am still confused. 
    What does the book imply?'
Tree thinks a bit, 'It was Nature's way 
    to cleanse our treasured Earth.
To fight disease and cure infection...
    saving only things of worth.'

So to those of you who doubt this tale,
     forgive my little rant.
But take from this most people lack...
     the brains God gave a Plant.

                 The End

*For those who are interested. I will be posting my cartoon 'Bob's your Uncle' on my homepage. A new one will appear every second day.

Copyright © David McHattie | Year Posted 2019



Details | David Mchattie Poem

To Hunt the Bugaboo

The morning was crisp and frosty
    as the Earth yearned for autumn's heat.
Darkness gave way to a fractured dawn
    as the Sun rose in the East.
The forest became warm and fervent
    while dappled grass lay beneath his feet.

The Hunter gazed upon the forest
    to see old Walden's pond.
And positioned at the water's edge,
    he looked to the sky beyond.
Where he hoped to shoot a flock of Ducks
    before they could respond.

When overhead he saw a Duck
    who landed near the shore.
The Hunter knew to bide his time
    as he hoped for many more.
The Duck would be his decoy
    which had worked the day before.

The Duck swam lazily around the pond
    but something was not right.
And heard a rustle in the grass
    and thought it might take flight.
When it saw the cap the Hunter wore
    which was orange and far too bright.

The Duck went through its options
    and considered a different deed.
And swam towards the Hunter
    who was hiding in some reeds.
'Come out and show yourself,'
    the Duck in voice decreed.

'What is your plan?' the Duck implored
    while the Hunter rose in shock.
'To bide my time,' the Hunter said. 
    'While waiting for your flock.'
'If that's the case,' the Duck replied. 
    'We should have a talk.'

'I'm loath to tell you of a Beast
     who lives and hunts beyond the rise.
And though his howl is quite submissive,
    it masks a fearsome size.
And no man has lived to tell the tale,
    which should come as no surprise.'

'Tell me about this Creature?'
    The Hunter said in haste.
'For if the Beast lives and breathes,
    there is no time to waste.
For I vow before the night is through...
    it will be salted to my taste.'

'So if you think you're the man
    to slay this dreadful Beast.
Not taken to fear and panic
    where your valor will decrease.
I will take you to that place
    where the Bugaboo does feast.'

The Hunter now had a great desire
    to travel and pursue.
Where no effort would seem too great
    for the chance to slay the Bugaboo.
And gather fame and fortune
    before the day is through.

The Hunter followed close behind
    while the Duck would lead the way.
In hopes to bag a Bugaboo
    before the end of day.
His only thought was to its size
    and what the Beast would weigh?

They traveled far into the forest
    where the Hunter had not been.
With plants and trees of monstrous size
    with all different shades of green.
They walked and tramped throughout the day
    but no Bugaboo was seen.

'Are you sure you know the way?'
    Said the Hunter to the Duck.
'I will admit,' the Duck replied. 
    'It takes a bit of luck.
But I think we're close to its feeding grounds
    where Bugaboos run amok.'

The Duck now spoke in whispered tones,
    'Let me check your gun and sight.
You will have but a single chance
    before the Beast takes flight.
And if you miss, the time is late,
    he will eat us in the night.'

The Duck froze in its tracks,
    its body wrought with fear.
It turned slowly towards the Hunter,
    'The Bugaboo is near.'
But all the Hunter could see
    was a small white tailed Deer.

'Behind the Deer, the Bugaboo stands,'
    said the frightened Duck.
'You will kill the Beast if you fire now
    at the grazing Buck.
So please be quick or our lives are lost
    if the Creature is not struck.'

The Hunter fires and the gun explodes
    to make a ghastly sound.
For the Duck had plugged the barrel
    with some stones that it had found.
The Duck now turned to see the Man
    who lay dead upon the ground.

It was not proud of the deed
    but thought it had been right.
To protect its friends and family
    from the wrath of the Hunter's might.
But now the Duck must hurry off
    as Bugaboos feast at night.


                       The End


*For those who are interested. I will be posting my web cartoon, 'Bob's Your Uncle' on my home page every second day.




    








    

Copyright © David McHattie | Year Posted 2019

Details | David Mchattie Poem

The Old Bear

The Old grizzled Bear... was now keenly aware
    as he lay in his Cave all alone.
Where his time as King... was a mere passing thing
    and must choose another to take up the Throne.

He had eaten no food... which did not temper his mood
    as the Bear's stomach was prone to rebel.
He was somewhat depressed... and in need of some rest
    and was not feeling at all very well.

As was his long habit... he called in dear Rabbit
    to tell of his anguish and pain.
The Old Bear said... 'No matter what you have read,
    I have come to the end of my reign.'

'My time grows shorter...so we must gather the Reporters
    and even though they show no respect.
We must promise the Press... a most rigorous test
    to whomever I choose to select.'

The Press was informed... and the Forest was forewarned
    for every species to send forth their best.
And the Old Bear fervently hoped... the Animals would cope
    when he was finally laid to his rest.

The Forest had been blessed... and now felt quite distressed
    as the Animals gave into their fear.
There would be great strife... should the Bear lose his life
    and they all shed a great many tears.

Before the Old Bear... had taken them into his care,
    there was widespread chaos and tension.
But the King had brought order... to defending their borders
    and thus became worthy of praise and attention.

There was much discussion... on possible repercussions
    and how long the recruitment would last.
But no one was in a hurry... to show they were worthy
    and face a Press who would dig into their past.

Finally some showed nobility... and embracing humility
    stepped up to put forward their names.
But the Reporters took to lying...as none were clearly aligned
    with the views the Press had inflamed.

At the Rabbit's direction... they came for the selection
   and the Animals gathered at Government Rock.
Where they saw all that were left... for the Bear to select
    were a Skunk, a Pig and a Fox.

The Press thought it historic... and were plainly euphoric
    on these three they had pushed from the start.
They had been kept safe from attack... from the Media Hacks
    and would serve them well once the Bear would depart.

The Old Bear was frail... and knew he had failed
    when he saw the three from whom he must choose.
He lowered his head... and was filling with dread
    knowing it would be the Forest Animals who would lose.

As much as he dared... the Old Bear boisterously declared
    he would select the one who was wisest and brave.
And only after passing a test... to see who is best
    one would emerge as King from his cave.

The Pig, Skunk and Fox... quickly left Government Rock
    entering the Cave with the Bear closely behind.
And once they were there... all were told to prepare
    to each answer the question assigned.

The Bear turned to the Pig... who was dancing a jig
     and moved with a big smile on his face.
The Bear quietly asked... 'What would be your first task
    if chosen to serve in my Place?'

'I haven't a clue,' said the Pig. 'But the first thing I'd do
    is get rid of those I considered a threat.
Then to quickly begin... by hiring only my Kin
    and use the Forest's money to pay off my debts.'

The Bear now confronted the Skunk... who was clearly a Drunk
    and was snickering as if telling a joke.
'I don't wish to seem rude...but could you ensure there was food
    and not tax the Animals to the extent they go broke?'

The Skunk's answer was sparse... as he continued this farce.
    'I can definitely ensure that none will be famished
because... if you're not my Supporter or a friendly Reporter
    the chances are good you will just up and vanish.'

The Bear was getting disturbed... and feeling perturbed
    and asked the Fox who was trying not to laugh.
'Can you follow our Code... where no freedoms erode
    and choose only the wisest of Staff?'

With not an ounce of chagrin... all three wore the widest of grins
    as the Fox spoke to challenge the Bear.
'No matter your choice... we will speak with one voice
    and rule as Gods and take more than our share.'

'We will steal your thunder by engaging in plunder
    to loot and pillage for us and our friends.
We will make it much rougher and the Forest will suffer
    as everything will be ours in the end.'
    
'The rules are clear... so no matter your fear
    we will win with whomever you choose.
So it's time we got started... just admit you've been outsmarted
    and allow us to begin our great ruse.'

Outside of the Cave... the Animals remained brave
    but were unsure on what could cause such a ruckus?
So their breath they were holding...as events were unfolding
    and hoped their new King would do them all justice.

But they had nothing to fear... as the Old Bear appeared
   and walked towards Government Rock.
He stood there a while... was now wearing a smile
    while the Animals looked on in wonder and shock.

'I'm feeling less beaten... now that I've eaten
    and not the least bit tired or nervous.
But as for those three... I think we can all agree
    they have gone on to serve a much higher purpose.'

The Animals were excited... and almost all were delighted
    except the Press who went completely berserk.
There was thunderous applause... from the clapping of paws
    as the old Bear would continue his work.

Now some were amused... on how the Press was confused
    on why the Animals would not give their support.
So the Press thought it imperative... to keep pushing their narrative
    and obtain their agenda by stacking the Court.

                                         The End


*Inspired by Aesop's fable 'The Lion, the Fox and the Beasts.'

*For those who might be interested. I will be posting my cartoon 'Bob's Your Uncle' on my homepage. A new one will appear every second day.






    
    

Copyright © David McHattie | Year Posted 2019

Details | David Mchattie Poem

A Time for Heroes

The child stood valorous before the door
 With nary a tinge of fear or dread.
Armed with a spatula and a pancake flipper...
 She wore a stewing pot on her head.
Her hands were protected by leather gloves
 With her Father's boots to guard her feet.
Her swimming goggles were securely placed
 And beneath her shirt... a cookie sheet.

With a determined sigh she cracked the door
 And peered suspiciously through the night.
She momentarily thought the coming battle
 May be best done in the bask of morning light.
But time was short and with each passing hour...
 Others would surely die.
So she began her journey to confront this beast
 Who had taken so many lives.

She made her way through the wretched gloom
 And gave thought to her parent's fears.
She had never seen them so full of doubt
 In all her seven years.
But the time had come to join the fight
 To aid those who gave protection.
And she was well aware of its woeful lair
 Where she would fight this damn infection.

A nurse stood wavering from a vengeful night
 As another dozen deaths had left her cold.
But she then heard a voice so free of fear
 It brought a peaceful solace to her soul.
'I wonder if you would be so kind
 To take a moment and give me some direction.
For I am stout and brave with pluck and daring
 And I will help defeat this cursed infection.'

The nurse's eyes welled up at such a sight
 And a smile reached across her face.
As by her side stood a little girl
 Who would defend the human race.
So remember this when all is lost
 And the best of us lose heart.
A unsung hero will rise to bring us hope
 And inspire us all to do our part.

                 












Copyright © David McHattie | Year Posted 2020

Details | David Mchattie Poem

Ethan The Cat

Ethan lies upon my lap
      in sweet and tender slumber.
This happens all throughout the day,
      who can count the number?

I think he's shrewd and his time well used,
      more clever than a fox.
Though doubt creeps in, he looks less keen
      sitting in a box.

Eating spiders and swatting flies
      to his heart's content.
But chasing birds and trapping mice
      are the main event.

When by the door he makes his roar
      yearning to be free.
But moments later the clamor starts
      as he's stuck upside a tree.

There might be string or a piece of thread,
      any length of twine.
He goes fuzzball crazy and his eyes get large
      now impossible to confine.

To calm him down I know a trick
      to alter Ethan's mood.
I go to the kitchen, open up the fridge
      and show him there's more food.

Then there's Christmas where he finds our stuff,
      a special time of year.
He's shredding presents and chasing lights,
      with tinsel hanging from his rear.

I scratch his belly and brush his hair
      at times of his own choosing.
With little deference I know for sure
     his fealty I am loosing.

There are times when things go well,
      I find myself with pride.
But people say... cats are Nature's way
     to take the other side.

He lets me know I might lack merit
      so he's not afraid to tell.
The thoughts I treasure and my Human worth,
      he's eager to dispel.

There are moments when I adore that cat
     when he's giving me a break.
His eyes show love as I melt within
      even when it's fake.

There are four scratching posts and toys aplenty
      that fill up every space.
But no matter what the mortgage says...
      I'm living in his place.

                     The End

*For those who might be interested. I will be posting my cartoon 'Bob's your Uncle' on my homepage. A new one will appear every second day.



  



Copyright © David McHattie | Year Posted 2019



Details | David Mchattie Poem

Heave Ho and Yo Ho Ho

An Old Folks home called Shady Lane 
    where life was at an end.
Where a hundred captives bide their time 
    till Death its message sends.
They built a country... fought its wars 
    and gave everything they could.
Now left to simmer and wait their time 
    as all good inmates should.

Told what to eat and when to sleep, 
    the clothes were not their own.
No cable news, no colored shoes, 
    their dreams have long since flown.
The paint is peeling off the walls 
    and the rooms are cold and damp.
There is no doubt... the inmates know 
    this is a prison camp.

The Shady Lane was quiet 
    with the inmates locked away.
The staff was more than happy, 
    it had been a stress free day.
But tomorrow in the morning 
    when others had their rest.
One man sick of dying 
    would cause them much distress.

At the buzzer the man awoke 
    and jumping to his feet.
He looked into the mirror 
    and saw the Dreaded Pirate Pete.
'G yaarrr, I be a menace 
    to those who built this jail.
I soon be weighin' anchor
    once this ship is mine to sail.'

'But first a crew I be needin' 
    to sail the southern seas.
To loot and pillage treasure ships 
    along the Florida keys.
This brig is full of salty dogs 
    who be men not knowin' fear.
They'll gladly follow Cap'n Pete 
    and be my buccaneers.'

'But the jailers they be crafty, 
    I will need to run a rig.
If caught alive Old Salty Pete 
    could dance the hempen jig.
I need a plan to get me crew 
    so me Mates can start a livin'.
And fight against these biscuit eaters 
    with no quarter being given.'

He stole into a nearby room 
    where he surprised a man named Rob.
'We be settin' sail, I be Cap'n Pete 
    and ye be 'One Eyed' Bob.
'We be breakin' free. Why walk the plank
    and risk the briny deep?
Sail with me and I be guaranteeing, 
    ye be not dyin' in your sleep.'

Robert Frost thought a bit 
    on what life was left to squander.
Or rage against his captors 
    and sail the wide blue yonder?
'I'll join your fight, I'm 'One eyed' Bob
    and ye be Cap'n Pete.
Arr! Let's find some mates and show them how 
    these Urchins can be beat.'

'We'll get 'Keen Eyed' Tom and 'Smilin' Pat, 
    both eager for the fray.
They be joined by many more, 
    all zealous for their day. 
There be 'Big Thighs' Bertha, 'Lootin' Mike 
    and 'Mad Eyes' Martha Stone.
And 'Blunder buss' Betty, 'Butcher' Jack 
    and 'Harpy' Janice Sloan.'

Pirate Pete tells his plan 
    and the crew would join the fight.
'Then me Hearties, me be thinkin', 
    we hatch our plan tonight.
Before them jailers sit for grub, 
    we be silent as we creep.
And Arr! We add a bit of potion 
    to make em' fall a sleep.'

The plan succeeds, the swabbies down, 
    'Now let us bind them tight.
Now my Beauties,' says 'One Eyed' Bob. 
    'Cap'n Pete has set things right.'
'Yo ho ho.' the crew explodes 
    with blatant disregard.
When Cap'n Pete says with glee, 
    'Arr...I've found a credit card.'

To the phone they order out 
    such food was long denied.
They get chicken wings and onion rings 
    with a decent side of fries.
No salad greens, all fatty foods 
    and grog of every kind.
'Arr! Let's order more,' cries 'One Eyed' Bob.
    'Those scurvy dogs won't mind.'

'G yarrr! Get some music,' says Cap'n Pete. 
    To someone in the know.
'We be Masters of this vessel now 
    so let the hornpipes blow.'
They danced the night to a merry tune 
    where nothing done was wrong.
When One Eyed' Bob says, 'Oh Cap'n Pete, 
    give us a shanty song.'

          'Avast ye lubbers and move smartly now, 
              least ye feed the fishes.
          For booty calls and gold doubloons 
              to satisfy our wishes.
          With a cutlass and some cackle fruit 
              we'll loot and never fail.
          And if our winds be out of favor. 
              Arr! Dead men tell no tales.'

'Heave ho and yo ho ho' 
    was heard throughout the night.
When a Pirate crew tasted freedom 
    on winning their last fight.
I'd like to hope it stayed that way
     to their glory and their fame.
When Cap'n Pete and a fearless crew 
    took back the Shady Lane.

                The End

*To run a rig is to play a trick.
*To dance the hempen jig is to be hanged.
*Biscuit eater is an insult.
*Cackle fruit is a hen's egg.
*Swabbies are lowly workers.
*The potion is ground up sleeping pills.

                


*For those who might be interested. I will be posting my cartoon 'Bob's your Uncle' on my homepage. A new one will appear every second day.














































Copyright © David McHattie | Year Posted 2019

Details | David Mchattie Poem

The Night Santa Left Me in Stitches

Twas the night before Christmas and I was a gasp
    at the rumors that filled me with an odious fright.
For Santa Claus was now tired of working for free
    and would be harvesting organs well into the night.
He would be looking for kidneys, livers and hearts
    as well as others too numerous to mention.
All this was designed to lower his cost of production
    and help his Elves with their healthcare and pension.

The reporters reported the disheartening news
    that dear Santa had put an end to holiday cheer.
And to lock all our windows and batten the doors
    to prevent a Christmas which could end only in tears.
Now the Media's record of telling the truth
    was often wrong and extremely spotty at best.
So I had faith in Saint Nick and his message of hope
    and would not give in to the lies they address.

So I fell into slumber to awake Christmas morning
    and put my trust in the jolly old Elf.
But awoke latter that night when the stomping of hooves
    caused several books to fall from the shelf.
Quickly grabbing a candle... I flew down the stairs
    to see my tree laden with presents and toys.
As dear Santa had come through with his usual flair
    and my trepidation turned to wonder and joy.

So I opened a window and peered through the night
    and spotted the old Elf at the head of his sleigh.
I heard him yell from afar as he drove out of sight,
    'You should rest in bed for most of the day.'
I pondered his point... unsure what he meant
    as my body began to shimmy and shiver.
And as sure as the bells that would ring Christmas morn...
    that fat bastard had taken half of my liver.

So as I lay in the bed and considered my stress
    and the reason for my tension and plight.
But put it aside... when I realized by giving an organ
    I put the spirit of Christmas in a more favorable light.

                             The End

Night before Christmas Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
Date: Nov 29/2019









Copyright © David McHattie | Year Posted 2019

Details | David Mchattie Poem

The Poo Poo Bird

They pursued it with vigor, they pursued it with crass
They hunted with valor and hope
They proceeded with a dose of good Knightly sass
They chased it with tackle and rope

Now King Arthur declared in a boisterous voice
He was tired of the usual meats
And would now on demand a much wider choice
On what he desired to eat

'Bring me fresh meat,' the King so declared
'Or I will boil your bones for my soup.'
His Knights took to stare but were frightfully scared
They would suffer all in as one group

They brought the King frogs, giraffes, snake meat and ferrets
As well as the meat from a bear, two bats, beaver and quail
Also baboons, moose, sharks and one lonely parrot
As well as a rare collection of snails

'No!' The King cried in sovereign disgust
As his anger began to accrue
'If you value your lives and desire my trust
You will find me new meat for my stew.'

The Green Knight stepped forward to answer the call
And tell of a valley which is narrow and dark
Where a Creature exists who is prone to appall
As its manner is both fearsome and stark

'The Poo Poo bird is the one who you need
As its flesh is both salty and sweet
If we are brave and you let us proceed
We will bring back the most chosen of meat.'

Now the only two Knights who had put away fright
Were more than ready to be put to the test
So the Black and Green Knights were given the right
To participate in their King's meaty quest

'Let the quest begin and so be on your way,'
Said the King to the two Knights of the round
So in the morning they would journey for several days
To the dark valley where the Poo Poos abound

Now it was commonly known to those with some say
That these Knights were not the right force
And this was born out when after a couple of days
They both determined to had forgotten their horse

So they trundled along the best that they could
Toward the dark valley the Green Knight had seen
But walking in armor through a spectre-grey wood
Was to an outsider a most comical scene

'I have to admit,' said the Black Knight in haste
'I have no knowledge that Poo Poos exist
So I know nothing of their height, weight or even their taste
And whether the King would find them hard to resist?'

'Be of good cheer,' the Green Knight replied
'I saw a Poo Poo bird when lost on this trail
And barely escaped and I have to confide
It ended my search for the Grail.'

'Now the Poo Poo is an odd looking bird
Quite worthy of poetic lament
But as to its mood, it is frugal and shrewd
And would not lend you a farthing or cent.'

'It knows nothing of manners and fashion aside
And wears a hat that is far out of date
But the bird is especially bad at trying to decide
Whether to wear boots, sandals or skates.'

'The Poo Poo has a tendency to whistle at night
Thus depriving others of much wanted sleep
And to make matters worse, it is often contrite
But in the day makes nary a peep.'

'And its political bent makes not a smidgen of sense
As it will cast a vote based on the facts of the case
But everyone knows it gives others offense
When wisdom is thrown into just such a race.'

Now the days turned to night and then back into day
As the Sun and the Moon took their usual turns
While the Knights followed the trail slowly making their way
And hoping the weather would not slow their return

They reached the dark valley with the light of the Moon
Where they began the hunt for the Poo Poo that night
And both hoped the hunt would end fairly soon
So they could slay a Poo Poo before dawns early light

But they lumbered about in a state of disgrace
As they made enough noise to wake a laburnum tree
So what now became a most ludicrous chase
As they saw neither a figget, a flapper or flea

They pursued it with vigor, they pursued it with crass
They hunted with valor and hope
They proceeded with a dose of good Knightly sass
They chased it with tackle and rope

The Sun rose in the East as it most often does
To warm the Knights who were spent from the grind
A long night of hunting had yielded nothing because
The Poo Poo bird was following one step behind

The Poo Poo bird said, 'You look tired and lost
Are you sure what you seek is worth such attention?
It has been my experience to pay such a cost
Is too much work and defies social convention.'

'Stand fast,' the Green Knight shouted, not being discreet
'We have come to make short work of your life
For our King demands a prudent taste of your meat
So we will carve you up with clever and knife.'

'That seems shockingly rude,' replied the bird as it should
'I am the only Poo Poo bird left of my breed
And if Knights are known to do nothing but good
An extinction seems the most heinous of deeds.'

The Green and Black Knight lowered their heads
Knowing the Poo Poo had made a strong case
But disappointing the King now filled them with dread
As their necks were soon to be far from their face

'But I have something,' spoke the Poo Poo to lighten the mood
'It is a delicacy and a most wondrous invention
Give it to your King as I'm sure he will enjoy such a food
And hopefully relieve any of his sovereign type tension.'

So they returned to the castle with smiles and hope
And presented the King with what the Poo Poo had given
But deep in their souls they were failing to cope
And hoped the day would end with them still living.

Now the King was upset and poured on the heat
As he let fly a most odious rant
For the Knights had the gall to present a strange treat
Which was a burger made from edible plants

'What is this?' The King yelled in disgust
'Do you take me for some poor pastured cow?'
'Please give it a try,' said the Knights ignoring his fuss
'It is a food worthy for one such as thou.'

The King tasted the burger and it made him quite proud
And praised the Knights for their courage and taste
So by royal decree the Kingdom would no longer allow
To eat any Creature... possessing a face
         
                            The End
       
 

                                

                             













Copyright © David McHattie | Year Posted 2019

Details | David Mchattie Poem

The Night Santa Brought Us Weed

Twas the night before Christmas and all were in need
    as we waited for Santa who had promised us Weed.
Our parents were sleeping with not a clue in their heads
    that their children were Stoners and away from their beds.

The cheetos had been placed on the table with care
    with an idea dear Santa soon would be there.
The winter was cold with no time for a snack
    hoping Kris Kringle would come with fresh Pot from his sack.

I had been to the Bank and had obtained hordes of cash
    with a fervent desire St. Nick would bring the best of his Stash.
We had our concerns for a reasonable fellow
    who was honest and straight... no harshing our mellow.

The time had been set as I looked at the clock
    knowing the waiting was tense and we needed our Pot.
And then from the porch a strange sound did we hear
    but it was only friend Jim who had gone for some beer.

I stared out the window and peered through the snow
    and we were greatly concerned whether Santa would show.
And then from the street... what did I observe?
    A '72 ford Pinto...  which was stuck on the curb.

The engine was smoking and the tires were flat
    and with the windows quite frosted... I reached for my bat.
This didn't look good as I gave way to doubt.
    Wondering who was the driver and who would come out?

And who should come forth? But Santa himself
    who was all bearded and fat, a jolly old Elf.
He climbed to our rooftop... was nimble and quick
    thus avoiding the doorbell... this fella was slick.

He was now in the chimney and this lightened our hearts
    and we knew he was close when we heard the Elf fart.
And then in an instant the Big Guy appeared
    but asking double the price for which we had feared.

We told him our troubles as he pondered our point,
    he then lowered the price on every third Joint.
The payment was made and the dope was obtained
    and up the chimney he rose unconcerned for the flame.

I'll remember that night... for it was a doozy
    when Santa came through... and brought me a Doobie.
As he drove out of sight... I heard him calling my name...
    Merry Christmas to all and goodnight Mary Jane.

                              The End

*For those who are interested. I will be posting my cartoon 'Bob's your Uncle' on my homepage. A new one will appear every second day.

Copyright © David McHattie | Year Posted 2019

Details | David Mchattie Poem

Ignorance is Overrated

Some people take to Facebook
In an effort to create
A safe and pleasant habitat
By unfriending those who wish debate.
But then still rile against a college chum
Who has not lost their winter weight.

We drone on about the weather
Far too often before we die.
And talk incessantly about our children
To those unfortunate to catch our eye.
But we fail to address substantive issues
And I have to question why?

No religion, politics or talk of sex
To free us from our doubt.
And avoiding issues that may offend
Seems the safer route.
But spotting the neighbor wearing spandex
Deserves a rapid shout.

No fossil fuel or global warming talk
To change us from our course.
And any attempt to grow our minds
Is met with dogged force.
As it is far better to speak of gardening tips
Which we more heartily endorse.

So we close our eyes and dim our ears
To the harder things in life.
And may indeed find sweet sanctuary
From unwanted social strife.
But rest assured we will have wasted much
In a desire to escape our neighbor's knife.

So we avoid such talk and play it safe
With our essence hidden from the fray.
But I have to tell... my greatest fear
That haunts and tasks me to this day.
Is when we stand before the gates of Heaven...
We will have nothing much to say.

                   The End

*To those who may be interested. I will be posting my cartoon 'Bob's Your Uncle' on my homepage. A new one will appear every second day.



Copyright © David McHattie | Year Posted 2019

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