Ears and Noses Keep on Growing!

I recently heard that ears and noses continue to grow

Long after we got used to the ones we already have; oh, no!

Why they should keep on growing, all those ears and noses,

Is just another Divine joke, I supposes—

Of all the things that we do not need

Are more extremities that grow like weeds—

Really—bigger noses and bigger ears?

What’s next for us all; bigger rears??

Isn’t it enough that all our bits are rapidly sagging;

Necks and bellies and thighs all dragging–

Good grief, can we at least keep our noses and ears in original size

That is to say, the way we always prized

Them—all in proportion, nice and neat,

All matched up, from head to feet.

But no, our ears and noses just keep on swelling

(Ironically, ears hearing less and noses not smelling)

A joke of Divine proportion, no doubt—

And no way, apparently, for us to opt out!

So let the chips fall where they may,

Ears and noses in disproportionate array—

Perhaps I’ll start the fashion of wearing veils

To cover up my ears’ and nose’s new travails!

 

 

 

 

 

 

News For the Newshawk

Early in the morning when the day is new

I want to have a little chit-chat; you want the news.

I had a great night’s sleep and want to start my day

With a little conversation–what more can I say?

But you need to know what’s going on in this troubled world of ours–

Where is ISIS now, who shot whom and what of the ruling powers?

Politics, weather, sports, the nation’s fears—

What chance do I have to catch your ears?

I try to pick a time to speak, but you’re not hearing me–

First thing in the morning’s when you want to watch TV.

I guess I’ll have to start my day by leaving notes for you

To remind you that I’m still here and still loving you–

And would appreciate your time on mornings such as this,

The news will change, it always does, but I am still desirous–

Of your time and attention for just a little while

Could you not live without a break from all that rank and file?

You’d think by now after all this time

I’d figure out your routine, but I’m

Guessing that you’ll always be a news and weather hawk

So I’ll either slouch away to do something else or perhaps take a walk–

But just remember this: the news will change,

Nuts and weirdos will continue to be strange

There will always be war, world issues and strife

Just please don’t forget to chat now and then with your wife!

 

 

 

 

A Few of My Favorite Things….

Bangles that jangle

And earrings that dangle

Rings made of sterling

And bright scarves unfurling–

Bad jokes and laughter that make my heart sing,

These are a few of my favorite things!

Big cats and small cats

And sweet little brown bats,

Tiny Spring peepers

And those who say “jeepers!”

Delicious red cherries that they call ‘Bing,’

These are a few of my favorite things!

When I’m cranky, when I’m crabby,

When I’m feeling foul—

I simply remember my favorite things,

And then I don’t have to scowl!

Small girls who giggle

And Jello that wiggles,

Owls who hoot softly

From pine trees so lofty–

Pancakes and fruit cakes

A waiter must bring–

These are a few of my favorite things!

When I’m cranky, when I’m crabby,

When I’m feeling foul—

I simply remember my favorite things,

And then I don’t have to scowl!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ode to Skin

Oh, how lovely is the skin we’re in

That keeps all our bits and bobs within–

Else it would all be hanging out,

And everyone would point and shout!

How awful to have our skin-side inside

And all our insides outside!

We’d be a proper mess I guess,

And how in the world would we begin to dress?

We’d have to clothe ourselves in bags

Since everything would droop and sag–

How good it is to have our skin

To keep tidy all the stuff within

And shelter our innards from rain and snow

Not to mention the winds that blow!

And what about those kidney stealers?

And all those shifty liver dealers!

Yes, our skin’s the ultimate packaging

That keeps our innards safe from ransacking–

So for all things for which we’re grateful

Let’s put skin first and foremost, ever faithful.

 

 

 

Cling-Clang, Bing-Bang

Oh, the cling and the clang,

And the bing and the bang,

Of the construction zone

That is my home!

Walls ripped open

And still I’m hopin’

For peace and quiet,

Without all the riot

Of nails screeching as hammers yank them out

Sorry to leave their old boards, no doubt.

The dust and debris

Are overwhelming to me,

No peace, no quiet,

Just an ongoing riot

Of destruction

And ongoing construction!

Will it ever end?

Sadly no time soon, my friend–

As long as bandsaws whine

And sawdust lines

Each window and door

And each and every floor,

I doubt I’ll ever see the day

When all this mess finally goes away

It may be that I’ll lose my mind,

In which case I would probably find

That all the dust and dirt and mess

Will become my final nest.

If so, then plant me in a box of pine

And tape up my mouth to stop my whine!

 

 

 

 

 

Word Salad!

Word salad, word salad!

My constant ballad

Of right words said wrong

And wrong words in song!

I know the words I want to say,

Still the wrong ones come out anyway!

I think to say “spectacular,”

But what comes out is “vernacular.”

Of course I didn’t mean to say it,

But my word salad makes me pray it

Won’t happen again–

But sadly it does, and then

Out of my brain and out of my mouth,

Seems that the words I want just plain go south!

The sad, sad truth is

My aged brain’s gone toothless,

And I have to wonder

When I’ll get my tongue out from under

All those odd words cluttering up my cerebrum—

Makes me feel I could be dumb

As a drunken monkey on a bender–

Oh, word salad, please return to sender!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Changing Roles

As you once held me close in your arms and kept me safe, I now do the same for you. I am careful to lift you up on your pillows so as not to stress the sore places. I keep my arms around you when you walk into the bathroom, and sit you down carefully. I now know how to lift you up without causing you pain.

I understand the importance of a fresh clean, newly-made bed, made up with my and Dad’s loving hands.

I can see the difference that a clean nightie makes, as well as your warm fluffy pink socks you like on your feet at night.

I can’t kiss you enough, tell you I love you enough, or hold your hand and smile with you enough.

We talk through so many memories and good times, and we laugh and marvel over our lives together.

I see my dad care for you so tenderly and with such love—there is nothing he would not do for you. His love for you has been true for 60 years, and yours for him. The bond between you is so strong that it is forever and eternal, and will stand forever.

Your wonderful friends visit and call, and let you know constantly that you are loved and cared for, and wonderful and delicious meals are prepared and delivered from such loving hands and hearts.

Your room now is filled with sunflowers bright enough to rival the sun, and cards and notes come each day, speaking their love for you.

You take joy in giving away your beautiful clothes and shoes, jewelry, coats, gloves, purses–all transitory at this time, but you have such fun in enjoying others’ enjoyment of them. Best of all, your spirit and energy abides in these things, and those you have gifted will feel that energy and love forever.

Although we know that time is passing, each day is a gift and a blessing. There is such peace and joy within you that lights us all. You are only going on ahead to get everything ready for us all to join you. Where you go, time as it is on Earth has no meaning and no hold on us. The love we have for each other and our own unique and wonderful spirits live on forever.

As a daughter, you have taught me so well and so carefully that you can go on, knowing that I will be fine. I will only miss you until I see you again; radiant and beautiful and immortal.

Shakespeare, wise man of words, described our time on Earth thus:

“Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp’d tow’rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.”

From Shakespeare’s “The Tempest” Act 4, scene 1, 148–158, spoken by Prospero.

 

 

The Wheel of the Seasons

The wheel of seasons moves in its round

And we mere humans barely hear the sound

Of seasons passing us year by year–

Celebrations of light and love and all we hold dear.

All move from summer to fall to winter to spring,

Then back we go like birds on the wing.

Fall dresses the trees with colors bright,

Then lets all the leaves fall from their height–

Into piles of orange, red, yellow and brown

Scattered in beautiful tapestries on the ground.

The air is brisk, blue skies are sun-shot

With remnants of summer’s breath, still hot.

Then Winter brings its crystal days and icy chill

That makes us huddle up, bundle up and thrill

To lacy snowflakes and frigid winds that blow,

And roar and make our poor red noses glow.

It drives the hats right off our heads,

And all of the warm blankets from our beds!

Then Spring springs up wearing crocuses colored brightly

That pop through waning snow and graying ice unsightly–

Warm winds toss the icy chips on the pond away,

To make room for the tadpoles and turtles to play–

Warm winds tease the buds into fragrant flower

Knitting secret nests from lacy bower–

For the new bird fathers and mothers

To raise up all the little sisters and brothers.

Then comes hot Summer with its lazy days

Of sunshine pouring out its honey glaze

Over us all; the four-foots, the two-foots and all

Creatures both fierce, gentle, big and small.

Cicadas thrum in the silent still heat,

And keep strumming their tune in time with our feet

That walk slowly by, bronzed by the sun in the sky

And blissfully we stroll on, never questioning why

The seasons roll on by like a wheel,

Each one making us feel

That THIS is the fall, the winter, the spring,

The summer that will surely bring

Us all our wishes for happiness, joy and love,

All umbrella’d under the ever-changing blue sky above.

The Strange Children Alphabet

A is for Andrew,

Who sat on a shrew,

Which bit off his boy bits

And now none of his pants fit.

B is for Barlow,

Who was daft as a swallow,

And ate funny things

Like corks and erasers and butterfly wings.

C is for Cheryl,

Who knocked over a barrel

Of strong spicy pickles

To this day, the smell of them gives her the tickles.

D is for Dylan,

Who was perfectly willin’

To eat up all the spaghetti

At supper, and left none for sister Betty.

E is for Ellie,

Who filled up her belly

With baked beans and fruit

Which, whenever she walked, made her toot.

F is for Frankie,

Whose shoes made him cranky

So he conveniently lost them

And forgot where he tossed ’em.

G is for Gwennie,

Who, for a penny

Would burp on demand,

With all of the dignity she could command.

H is for Helen,

Whose great fault was yellin’

From morning til night

When her folks locked her in for the night.

I is for Isolde,

Whose dresses smelt moldy

She said, “I don’t care if they smell;

You can all go to hell!”

J is for Julian,

A regular little hooligan–

Who chewed so much gum

That dozens of bubbles floated out of his bum.

K is for Karen,

Who, when sent on an errand

Insisted on dragging her feet

Til the soles of her shoes melted in the heat.

L is for Larry,

Whose ears were so hairy

That small birds began to pester him

To let them nest in them.

M is for Mattie,

Whose clothes were quite ratty.

Clean clothes he eschewed–

And said he was not in the mood.

N is for Nancy,

Whose hair was quite fancy–

She wore it in such an elaborate updo

It took a terribly long time each morning to do.

O is for Olly,

Whose imaginative folly

Made him make strange faces

In unlikely places.

P is for Pippa,

Whose dresses had zippers

From her neck to her knee

But never unzipped, per her mother’s decree.

Q is for Quentin,

Who always at Lenten

Gave up broccoli and spinach

Saying he was Finnish and Finnish don’t eat spinach.

R is for Ruth,

Who never told the truth

About how she had a pig for a pet,

And smelled as bad as a litter box at the vet.

S is for Sydney,

Who hated beans shaped like kidneys

He claimed that his revulsion

For them gave him convulsions.

T is for Tillie,

Whose laughter was silly–

It made those around her

Want to surround her and pound her.

U is for Uma,

Who said that she’d sooner

See a pig ride a horse

Than finish her homework for her algebra course.

V is for Vlad,

Who swore that his mom and his dad

Turned into black bats at night

And would come to your house to give you a fright.

W is for Wendy,

Who loved all things trendy–

Long dangle earrings

And frilly dresses with gauze wings.

X is for Xander,

Whose hair shed so much dander

That his clothes always looked dusty

(And it must be said–he smelled musty.)

Y is for Yolanda,

Who slept each night with a big stuffed panda.

She claimed that it kept her quite safe

From dragons and ghosts–although its fur made her chafe.

Z is for Zale,

Who claimed he ate nothing but kale,

Plus the odd sandwich, soup and some tarts

All which he blamed for his terrible farts.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

School, Not Home

Oh, how we love life on this earthly plane!

We’ve lived here for years, and it’s our main

Desire to stay here with all we know and love.

Even the stars that shine so brightly up above

Are part of where we now stand–

Whether alone or hand-in-hand

With the ones we love best

Or alone to fight and face the test

That comes to us all,

Both big and small–

We come to the time where we must travel back

To that place of our beginning, where we first learned the knack

Of life on Earth and the parents we chose–

The friends, the loved ones, the teachers, the foes–

All were ordained and were part of our plan

Before we came here and forgot it was our hand

That chose this life, this place, this body, this span

Of years, and those we came back to meet

To make up for past mistakes and chores to complete–

This Earth has been our school and our time to correct

Past mistakes, and learn to expect

The best from ourselves and others near us,

To let them know that they need not fear us

Along their journey as we walk together

With those with whom we’ve made a tether

Of life, and hope and dreams and love—

To share that angel-light from above

When at last we leave this Earth,

And come back to the place of our real birth–

We’ll know then that Earth was school, and not our home—

Where we tried to make our lives a poem;

An anthem of wrongs made right–

And walk away from futile fights–

And bridges and roads and turns not taken

This time around, and no mistaking

Where we went off the track.

We came to Earth to take back

What we destroyed in our ignorance.

We returned for another chance

To learn and make right what was wrong

That this is home; this is where we belong!

Where everyone we love; family, lovers, pets and friends–

Are together at last with love that never ends.