We need a new poem, and here it is.
(No, really, this IS it.)
Sometimes a new poem puts me in a tizz.
Thinking of stuff every week is the pits.
Just try to be deep and clever-
It's as unpredictable as the weather.
Where these poems lead is anyone's guess.
Sometimes it's good; sometimes it's a mess.
But now I've started one that is silly,
So you all can take it. Go willy-nilly.
Add some more stuff, whatever you feel.
But something light, that's the deal!
Off we will go in a real tizzy,
And we will work really hard not to make it busy.
Feeling my way with my hands, not my feet,
Making this look really, really neat.
See? Sue Ann's got the idea.
She wrote something to follow me.
I know. You're thinking this is dumb.
But, c'mon, it could be fun.
Throw out a silly line, or a stanza or two.
No one here will make fun of you!
Use clever words or just invent 'em-
Finfinella for one
I will try very hard, I promise I will.
So remember if you give a man a fish
he will eat for a day.
Teach him how to fish,
and he will sit in a boat and drink beer all day.
Okay, now I get the drift
for this poem, words I will not have to sift.
Grab my fishing pole, get in the boat.
Drink enough beer and something will float.
You've got it chixies-
Bernie and Cath-
Just pen something dumb,
something good for a laugh.
Now who will take the 'bait'?
Hmmm....it's a fishing theme I see.
That wasn't where I was headed
but alright by me.
Never test the depth of the water
with both feet.
And if at first you don't succeed,
skydiving is not for you.
Flying by the seat of my pants
Terrified by fire ants,
falling through the air so fast
watching my life going past!!
If you think nobody cares if you're alive,
try missing a couple of car payments.
A tow truck you'll see at your door
to take your car back to the store!
I have a book you must look at.
It holds some pictures of my cat.
Would it be too bold if I asked you this?
Could you paint its picture, it's name is Pris!!
Painting pictures is fine by me.
It's the paint I mind that is on my knee,
making it necessary to wash the spot,
and I hate doing laundry; I hate it a lot!
Some days you're the bug;
some days you're the windshield.
Then you have to wash it a lot
to get rid of the great big spot.
Writing poems: there’s nothing to it.
I Just wonder how Martha S. would do it?
Her stanzas might be full of glitz and bling.
"Now ladies, alteration is a very good thing!"
Alteration, now that's my thing.
I alter everything.
Let me share my secret of altering.
Duct tape is like 'The Force.'
It has a light side and a dark side,
and it holds the universe together.
Now that's a good thing.
Cliches, cliches everywhere.
They're on the desk; they're on a chair.
They're on my mind; they're on my knee
Sam I am, you let me be!
I do not like Green Eggs and Ham.
I don't not like them...Oh..wrong poem.
I'm wondering what turns this poem will take,
back to altered states or baking a cake?
Since I'm better at one than the other,
I'll give the cake pan to my twin brother!
Mary had a little lamb. Its fleece was white as snow.
And everywhere that Mary went the lamb was sure to go.
This caused the people in her town to all start talking.
But Mary really didn't care for she liked her new 'wool stalkings.'
And if the truth be known
Mary was quite irritated with her lamb.
And this is what she told him:
Do not walk behind me, for I may not lead.
Do not walk ahead of me, for I may not follow.
Do not walk beside me either.
Just pretty much leave me alone.
And the lamb got lost on the winding road
without Mary carrying the load.
He bleated and bleated all the night long,
but Mary was busy singing her own song.
Oh, my goodness, what have we here?
Is it a poem of nonsense, I fear?
Or is it something mythical, something deeper,
a lyrical foreboding of the very grimmest reaper?
Yes, that is it! And now I know!
My job here is done.
Off to the computer I go
ending the poem, ending the fun!
Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are?
Could you be a UFO? How the heck am I to know?
I wonder more where this rhyme is going
As our creative minds keep flowing...
Is that what you call this poem we've written,
created by minds which have been smitten
By all the fun and love we all share?
For one another, how much we care!
Is this the piece that keeps on going
with never an end and no one knowing?
Can I cry uncle and beg it to end?
Or are there more words that I must lend?
Me thinks it's time to start anew.
So here's a little hug for you,
To make you happy if you are sad,
to let you know life ain't so bad.
And neither is this poem!
Bernice Wagnitz, Cathy Minerva, Beverly A. Sams, Gina Smith