Poetry Schmoetry

I know, I bet tons of you LOVE poetry. Some might even write it. I can't tell you how much it just does not appeal to me. Now, I am not saying that as someone who doesn't read, or hasn't explored vast amounts of poetry - I do, and I have! There are times when I walk into a library or bookstore and have a hard time deciding what I haven't read.

There are some poems I find touching or masterful, but overall, I just don't care for it. As the years have past, it seems what I do like (poetry-wise) are simple, silly poems. My favorite poet being Ogden Nash.

So for your reading pleasure, I bring you the following Ogden Nash poems:

The Lion

Oh, weep for Mr. and Mrs. Bryan!
He was eaten by a lion;
Following which, the lion's lioness
Up and swallowed Bryan's Bryaness.


The Hippopotamus

Behold the hippopotamus!
We laugh at how he looks to us,
And yet in moments dank and grim,
I wonder how we look to him.

Peace, peace, thou hippopotamus!
We really look all right to us,
As you no doubt delight the eye
Of other hippopotami.


Further Reflections On Parsley

Parsley
Is gharsley.

More About People

When people aren't asking questions
They're making suggestions
And when they're not doing one of those
They're either looking over your shoulder or stepping on your toes
And then as if that weren't enough to annoy you
They employ you.
Anybody at leisure
Incurs everybody's displeasure.
It seems to be very irking
To people at work to see other people not working,
So they tell you that work is wonderful medicine,
Just look at Firestone and Ford and Edison,
And they lecture you till they're out of breath or something
And then if you don't succumb they starve you to death or something.
All of which results in a nasty quirk:
That if you don't want to work you have to work to earn enough money so that you won't have to work.

And my personal Ogden Nash favorite:

The Middle

When I remember bygone days
I think how evening follows morn;
So many I loved were not yet dead,
So many I love were not yet born.


And now my own creation:

Rhyme It

Every poem is made of lines,
But all the lines don't have to rhyme.
Deep and thoughtful,
Full of meaning,
Hidden symbols for the gleaning.

These are things that some poems do.
They make you work to get a clue.
"Forget all that!" is what I say...
Just lay it out there anyway.

Write it,
Rhyme it,
Be clever and funny.
Poems never make much money,
So make it catchy and full of wit
And we will learn it lickety-split!

Christmas Day is Almost Here & I Am Still Sick of Teenagers

I guess the title about sums it up for me.

This kid is wearing us out. Jerry has her at the doctor's office right now - they are doing an ultrasound to see if she has a gallbladder issue or not. She seems to have an upset stomach (in the gallbladder area) that won't go away. In my opinion, she's way too young for that, but what do I know?

Then, yesterday, she woke up with tonsil issues again. Made another appointment at 11:45am (different doctor, of course). She informed me this morning that she didn't need to go to the second doctor - she just has a cold.

It's the attitude. The superior intellect - she knows EVERYTHING about everything and is the ultimate determiner of what is right or wrong.

Ugh.

Merry Christmas.

Napping time

I want a nap.

I want to be by myself.

I want to take deep breaths that aren't worry-filled.

I never want to see another teenager again. I mean it.

Me. Books. Maybe my doggies. It would be okay if Jerry was there, too, but he'd have to be quiet.

It's one of those days. My mom didn't tell me about these.

Oh, Joy!

My child is in "love" again with a boy that broke her heart one year ago. In her words, she "loves him and never stopped loving him." You know, you "never stop loving someone." And, she made him promise to "never hurt her," because she "always gets hurt."

I asked her what fits into the category of "hurts" and she didn't have an exact answer. I tried telling her that when you hold people to a vague expectation, they can never meet it. Any time her feelings get hurt, he'll have "hurt" her and there you go. She's conjuring up her own disappointments.

The boy? Strictly a ne'er-do-well. Not a bad kid, but no real ambition. He graduated last year. College? Uh, no. He's working in a warehouse at his dad's company. He said he is saving up to go to trade school to be a mechanic or, get this, an auto "detailist." Wow, apply stick-on pin-striping? Every parent's dream.

Good points? No driver's license. We like that. Plus, his work keeps him busy all day and sleepy at night.

This kid is wearing me out. If I point out anything that is not sunshine and flowers, she gets angry.

So, my daughter is "in love" with Mr. Wonderful (who just happened to have broken her heart previously, but he'll never hurt her or leave her again... and we know this because he "said so.")

Life is an adventure.