Archive for the ‘poem’ Category

Another poetry challenge answered.

December 2, 2006

Alright Jayne, for this challenge, just to keep things interesting, I’ll do some rework on a Cars tune.

On the concert’s edge,
a plastic hedge,
Oh, porta pottie-o.

As the groups perspire,
I get desire,
to find a pottie-o,
I gotta go.
Thank you pottie-o.

Without your plastic shield,
I think this farmer’s field
would be a smelly place.
Glad they found the space,
on which to emplace
you, my friend.
Oh porta pottie-o.
Just don’t stand downwind,
of porta pottie-o.

the Grit

Poetry challenge

November 26, 2006

A funny thing happened on my trip to the moon.
I met a tiger who gave me a spoon.
Over his shoulder he said, “don’t finish too soon,”
before rushing off to talk to a loon.

I continued on my way;
how that’s possible I can’t say.
The rings of Saturn began to sway,
and I developed a craving for curds and whey.

I discovered the road signs were made of cheese,
so I took a bite hoping it wasn’t a tease.
It turned out they were made to please,
although the smell of the spices made me sneeze.

Next I wandered into a spell of bad weather.
A moose blew by holding onto a feather.
The air had a faint scent of heather.
I wondered should I go on, or whether

In a near by cave, I should seek shelter?
I went on in and started to swelter.
It was hot in there like a big metal smelter.
That made me want that fish, what is it, gefilter?

A plate full turned up, and I whipped out my spoon,
but the sound when I dropped it awoke me too soon.
One night I’ll finish my trip to the moon,
if my dreams are inclined to grant me that boon.

the Grit

Poetry challenge answered

November 22, 2006

Tripping through a hole in the wall

takes very little effort at all. Who knows what might be in there?

Use your imagination if you dare.

Do little creatures creep and crawl,

or is it just an entry hall?

If it’s a toll way what’s the fare?

Do the mice wear clothes or just go bare?

Was that an elephant sounding a trumpet call?

Are there mushrooms that grow extremely tall?

Are the people happy without a care,

or do they hide away from a dragon’s glare?

So be careful if you take that fall,

you don’t know what’s inside that wall.

the Grit

End of the world poem #1

November 20, 2006

No one knows when the world will end,

except perhaps some Mayan.

They set the date at 2012, and, my, how time is flyin.

.

But that’s just when, and not till then

will we know the way,

in which the fickle universe

has the final say.

.

An asteroid from outer space

can really thin the herd.

That’s what got the dinosaurs,

at least so I have heard.

.

Nuclear war might kill us all

in one big fiery spasm,

and sweep our race from our top place

right into the chasm.

.

If not by fire then perhaps by cold,

when the glaciers start to move.

From snow and shear ice age fear,

our destruction it may prove.

.

But all the threats which we’d regret

are not that large in size.

a tiny little virus

could lead to our demise.

.

Even if we squeak past all of those,

there’s still one threat to solve,

because there won’t be any people left

when once more we evolve.

the Grit

Poetry

November 20, 2006

Ok grit

How about we compete for the “End of the world” poem?

the brit

Poetry challenge!

November 18, 2006

I feel the need for rhyme.  Somebody give me a subject.

the Grit

November 17, 2006

A poem done to answer Jayne’s challenge.

Sometimes I sit and think,

and sometimes I just sit.

It seems more of the latter,

the older that I get.

The best place for thinking

is in my tractor seat.

As a fort of solitude

it really can’t be beat.

Sometimes I get to pondering

while my truck hums down the road.

Ideas, as far as I can tell,

don’t add much to the load.

And when I go to bed at night

my mental gears are spinning.

Perhaps the heat from all that thought

is why my hair is thinning.

the Grit

November 9, 2006

The Brit is a bit under the weather today, so here’s a little verse for your entertainment.

I’ve got three dogs, but only two hands

and this is a source of contention,

because when I pet one, the other two run

to get their share of attention.