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.