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Kate Stark Poem
JOE VERSUS THE RACCOON
By Kate H. Stark
Each night ‘twas the same old proverbial shout.
“Hey Joe, will you please take the garbage bags out?”
Joe sighed, rolled his eyes as he walked toward the door.
To take out the trash was his least favorite chore.
And why, you might ask, does he dislike the task
of bringing out bags to throw into the trash?
The answer took place by the light of the moon.
The bags were destroyed by a pesky Raccoon.
With “chomps,” “gulps,” and “burps!” the Raccoon did ingest
the dregs and the scraps in a midnight food fest.
He called all his friends. “Hey, you guys, eat at Joe’s!
The chow is abundant and slop overflows.”
Raccoon and his buddies wolfed down odds and ends.
A banquet is always more fun with some friends.
They stuffed themselves silly, then sprawled in debris.
As soon as the sun kissed the sky, they’d all flee.
At first break of day, Joe awoke and looked out
to pieces and morsels of grub strewn about.
He grumbled an “Aaargh!” and with anger he flew
downstairs and outside to the fest residue.
“Eew gross!” he exclaimed and then picked up the ruin
left all through the night by the irksome Raccoon.
This vicious life cycle went on for a year.
Joe took rubbish out, the Raccoon would appear.
But then Joe’s frustration hit higher than high.
A type of frustration he couldn’t deny.
“It’s time I devise a great plan of attack.
Joe versus Raccoon - and I’m not holding back!”
Raccoon was about to lie down for a rest.
He heard a voice come from the place of his fest.
“Joe versus Raccoon? What on earth does Joe mean?”
“He best not disturb my fun party routine!”
Miffed Joe bought a book, and he started to read
The Ways to Control a Rude Raccoon Stampede.
Raccoon stole a guide that he read front to back
The Ways to Survive a Rude Human Attack.
Joe trekked all around and accrued lots of things,
from bungees to locks and a whole pile of strings.
Raccoon made a list of important details.
He flossed his sharp teeth, and he polished his nails.
Joe found heavy rocks, cinder blocks, and a light
to stop the Raccoon from its feasts overnight.
Raccoon rang his friends, and he let them all know,
“our bashes might end if I don’t outsmart Joe.”
Unwavering Joe worked throughout the whole day
in hopes that his plot kept the Raccoon away.
Raccoon slept and slept half the day till nightfall.
He rolled out of bed. “Time to give it my all!”
The evening arrived. As Joe finished, he said,
“This plan better work,” and he ran off to bed.
Raccoon drank a shot of espresso to prep.
“Tonight’s the big night with no room to misstep.”
Joe slumbered that evening and had the best dream,
imagining fame from his big Raccoon scheme.
He won an award, and it glistened and shined.
“You tricked the Raccoon! You’re a true mastermind!”
And meanwhile outside the Raccoon got to work.
He labored and toiled with a garbage-y smirk.
Then just as the night disappeared into dawn,
Raccoon finished up, scampered off and was gone.
Joe woke up quite pleased from his grand sleepy trance.
He readied himself for the very first glance.
He peeked out the window with hope in his eyes.
And he was then met with...UNPLEASANT SURPRISE!
“Oh Nooooo! It can’t be! It just isn’t fair!
That vexing Raccoon made a wreck everywhere!”
Joe raced down the steps, and he ventured outside
for much clearer looks at the mess he had eyed.
Amidst all the filth, the Raccoon left a note.
He wrote it in trash. (The Raccoon liked to gloat.)
The message was clear rotting under the sun.
The score read: Joe - 0. Raccoon scored a 1.
“This feud is not over! I will not give in!
I’ll even the score and eventually win!”
Joe’s viewpoint on taking out trash changed that day.
His mission for life: KEEP THE RACCOON AT BAY!
Raccoon felt such pride from his night of success.
His mission for life: KEEP ON MAKING A MESS!
Raccoon was quite tricky and strived to outwit,
and Joe was fighter who NEVER would quit!
Both Joe and Raccoon would continue their war.
Joe’s score is still zero. Raccoon, twenty-four.
Copyright © Kate Stark | Year Posted 2020
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Kate Stark Poem
GARLAND
By Kate H. Stark
It happened while practicing my violin.
I practiced at home on a seat near the door.
I suddenly felt a huge urge to explore.
The bluebirds were soaring up high in the sky.
If bluebirds could do it, then why couldn’t I?
I sneaked from the house with my fiddle in hand,
and strolled down the street to the nearest newsstand.
The papers were bursting with news of a show.
I’d fiddle my way to the state rodeo!
I jumped on a bus, and the driver said, “Hey!
This ride isn’t free so please come up and pay.”
Without any money I almost gave in,
then noticed the driver eye my violin.
“I’ll play you a tune for a bus ride.” I said.
She winked and then whispered to “go right ahead.”
I chose something dreamy which earned an ovation.
The passengers cheered as we all left the station.
We stopped at the rodeo quarter to four.
With fiddle in hand, I marched right out the door.
My feet hit the grass, and I viewed the fairgrounds.
The massive arena was echoing sounds
of rip-roaring times and a boisterous ride.
I skipped toward the entrance, my eyes bright and wide.
The scene was fantastic with marvelous things.
I eagerly plucked all my fiddle’s thin strings.
I greeted the wranglers who tipped their broad hats.
I ogled the bulls and the festival cats.
I smelled the mouth-watering foods in the breeze,
like popcorn and hotdogs and gooey fried cheese.
And then I caught sight of the star of the show.
Head cowboy - his name was Old Wizard Woodrow.
The famed man approached me and shook my small hand.
“You’ve entered the prime rodeo of the land.
There’s no place like here. Yeehaw! Howdy doo.
I see that you brought a string instrument too.
Might you play this crowd a lil’ violin song?
I promise to get them all clapping along.”
I figured, “Why not?” and I took center stage,
embarked on a fabulous, fiddlin’ rampage.
I hit a high note and the crowd yelled “yahoo!”
I dropped it down low which induced “aah” and “ooh.”
The cheers from the stands brought me endless delight.
I thought, “Wow, I’m sure glad that I came here tonight.”
The rodeo ended. I ran toward the bus.
My fans kept on screaming and making a fuss.
They begged for an encore. “Please play one last ditty!”
I fiddled my best before leaving the city.
Over the Rainbow - my musical choice.
All of my fans did approve and rejoice.
The air whispered magic. My song cloaked the land.
It all seemed so perfect, each moment so grand.
I clicked my heels twice as I played, and I played,
then right out of nowhere things started to fade.
The cheers turned to calls from a voice that I knew.
“Dear Garland, wake up!” It was Great Auntie Sue.
“My sweet, you were dreaming asleep in your chair.
It seemed like your dream really took you somewhere.”
Oh, where do I start, and how should I begin?
It happened while practicing my violin…
Copyright © Kate Stark | Year Posted 2020
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Kate Stark Poem
Shine Thru Hate
I’ll shine thru the worry and
fear of unknown.
I’ll shine thru the sadness
when i feel alone.
I’ll shine thru the restlessness,
leaving me drained.
I’ll shine thru the questions
still left unexplained.
I’ll shine thru the anger
that swirls in my mind.
I’ll shine thru the spiteful,
the cruel, and unkind.
Enough is enough as I
shine thru and wait.
I may not choose love but I will
SHINE THRU HATE.
Copyright © Kate Stark | Year Posted 2020
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