Sour Sucker

A pickle puss and sour sucker,
Sam was such a boy,
That nothing ever pleased him,
Nor gave him any joy.

When given treats and candy,
He would fret about his teeth,
When taken to a movie,
He complained about his seat.

The swimming pool was much too cool,
The hot tub much too warm,
The sofa cushions way to soft,
Rain showers were all storms.

Then one day a passing man,
Questioned very loud,
If there could be anything,
Of which Sam would be proud.

Hearing this Sam wondered,
Just what it was he liked,
And smiling he concluded 
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Young Jabberwok

The brillig brinds had long died down
The wabe had gone to sleep
The slithy toves their gimble drown
The mome raths lost their peep. 

All the shorf was calm and geep,
A peaceful fugel filled the air,
But calmness only runs so deep,
Around the monster's lair.

Young Jabberwok the mighty heir,
Had grown into a beast,
And sought our former hero fair,
On his heart to feast.

In fraptuous fields his mind would dwell, 
He'd pace from flomp to flounce,
His sire's words remembered well,
"When scrundled you should pounce."

So lurking out to seek his foe,
Gnashing 
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Healthy?

This slimy sludge from who knows where,
Slithers coldly off the spoon,
Then down my throat disgusting goes,
So foul it makes me swoon.

They say this stuff is good for me,
Will make me tall and strong,
Will give me muscles piled high,
And hair grow lush and long.

But 'seems to me that all of them,
Are more than common plain,
Giving me no evidence,
To support their claims.

Living Room Circus

The living room has changed its form,
No longer holding to the norms,
Established by society, 
Of taste and propriety,
For a room of this design,
Should have an aspect most refined.

But today a troop of clowns,
Looted blankets all around,
And with them built a monstrous tent,
In the space for adults meant,
Pressing benches, chairs and all,
Into service as the walls.

The comfey couch with bouncy seat,
Is used by one who's planned a feat,
As a vault to launch him high,
For a trick none else would try,
Soaring high in flips and twists,
Watchers 
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Nonsense Song

Skip-de-doodle, hop along,
Sing yourself a nonsense song,
Loud and proud with power voice,
Any words - they are your choice,
Holler higher than the trees,
Hear it echo if you please,
Squawk like chickens laying eggs,
Thump the ground with dino legs,
Chirp and roar your heart's content,
Heeding not who's ear is bent,
Not a care what others do,
Sing it simply to please you.

 

Common Denominator

When everyone must be the same,
In how and what they do,
Meet a standard clearly set,
And send results to experts true,

Anyone who stands apart,
Ahead those in the rear,
Must be dragged clear to the back,
By force or threats and fear,

Lest those failing to keep up,
Should have their feelings hurt,
Everyone in syncronous step,
Must wallow in the dirt.

Gratitude

A few years ago, I was asked to share something for the youth standards night hosted by our church for kids between 14 and 18.  These events sometimes get a bad rap as being forums for old people to tell young people about the things they shouldn’t be doing, and as a result the leaders organizing this particular one wanted to lighten things up some.  They asked those of us participating and sharing messages to focus on something the youth “could” do.  I was to talk about how the youth could be grateful.

The first thing that came to mind … Read the rest

My acrobat kids

One of the things the family did to keep themselves sane while I was on my extended “vacation” to DC was enroll at “Ninja Park,” an obstacle fitness gym.  Isaac was the driving force behind the decision, but the way things work around here, they either all do it, or they just don’t.  We’ve never been willing to spend the time and resources to send each kid to their own special thing three times a week.  If one of ’em does Tae Kwan Do for fitness, they all do it.   What that meant for Sydney was wrapping her mind around … Read the rest

Writers Block…

Roughly a year or two ago, I got a bug in my ear to try my hand at writing fiction.  On a whim early one morning after dropping Sydney off at her weekend babysitting job, and before Liz and the kids woke up, I started to outline a story that I thought might eventually morph into a novel.  I had no intentions of ever publishing said work, but I thought it might be fun to go through the process.  Initially it was fun…  words flowed rather freely, characters developed into more than just a name, and the story seemed to … Read the rest

The Bear’s Lament

He loves me or he loves me not,
I guess I'll never know,
With claws like these to pluck the flowers,
My progress is quite slow.

The petals on these flowers too,
Are oh so very small,
To pull them one by one apart,
Is no fun at all.

Since the plants won't play along,
To help me know my fate,
I guess I'll leave it up to luck,
To help me find a mate.