ODE WOE
The challenge was humor to write
I worked at it night after night
You’ll see as you read
I didn’t succeed
My attempts at humor are trite
8/28/90 Phyllis deWitt VanVleck
Posted in Humor, Poetry, tagged Humor, Ode, succeed, trite, write on Monday,July 20, 2009| Leave a Comment »
ODE WOE
The challenge was humor to write
I worked at it night after night
You’ll see as you read
I didn’t succeed
My attempts at humor are trite
8/28/90 Phyllis deWitt VanVleck
Posted in Family, Humor, Poetry, tagged courage, Dad, Daddy, Humor, nose, Preacher, Shane on Thursday,July 3, 2008| 1 Comment »
This is a true story of a relative, who shall remain nameless. RIGHT!
SHANE’S DECLARATION
The children stood upon the stage
Each holding words upon a page
In turn they read a line or two
On what their Daddy’s always do
One Dad fought crime, and one fought fires
One farmed land, and one sold tires
Shane was nervous when his turn came
And couldn’t remember his own name
Poor Shane’s courage was almost gone
So the congregation clapped him on
But he’d lost the paper that he had
So the Preacher prodded the little lad
What does your Dad do every day?
Shane thought a bit on what to say
Then the little boy in Sunday clothes
Yelled out, “My daddy picks his nose!”
Phyllis A. DeWitt-VanVleck
Posted in Humor, Poetry, tagged Humor, Poetry, wire coat hangers on Friday,June 27, 2008| 2 Comments »
COAT HANGERS
Oh, those blasted wire hangers
I swear they have a brain
For nothing is so obstinate
Nor causes so much strain
No matter how I hang them
They tangle every time
I think it’s done on purpose
And I call that a crime
It really takes Job’s patience
To remove one from a pile
And even though in cheerful mood
I quickly lose my smile
I come very close to swearing
When I try to hang a dress
Because they see me coming
And become a tangled mess
I’m sure I’ve heard them whisper
“Let’s drive her up the wall “
‘Cause soon as they’re untangled
Several always fall
They hang around in ugly clumps
And mesh with all their might
And while they plot their evils
They gather strength to fight
I haven’t won a battle yet
No, not even one
For patience is exhausted
Before the fighting’s done
It isn’t any secret
That the hangers won the war
My clothes are draped here and there
And some lie on the floor
8/26/80 Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck
2’nd … Arkansas NPD 1988
Posted in Animals, Humor, Poetry, tagged bees, cat, dog, food, games, Humor, picnic, poem, rhyming on Tuesday,June 17, 2008| 2 Comments »
I thought I would start off my Weblog with something to make everyone laugh. I know the residents of Martinsville, Indiana, could use one as they sop up the flood water. It’s a bit long, but I hope you will enjoy it and I look forward to your response.
THE PICNIC
It was that special day again
Awaited all year long
It was planned with such perfection
That nothing could go wrong
With games and food and sing-a-long
Prepared in great detail
The clan converged at forest glen
And herein starts my tale
Some sheets were spread upon the ground
And food was placed thereon
With space enough around the edge
To seat the hungry throng
It started when Samantha Sue
Performed her annual feat
She upchucked everything she ate
Upon the picnic sheet
Obnoxious little Curtis Lee
Dropped bugs in Elmer’s plate
Old Elmer never noticed them
And relished what he ate
Aunt Martha brought her terrier
And Elsie brought her cat
The cat and dog were enemies
So hissed and barked and spat
They tugged at leash and chewed on rope
And finally they were free
The chase was on, right through the food
Up to a nearby tree
The cat then jumped upon the dog
I can’t describe the scenes
As they tangled in the salad
And fell into the beans
Then dripping beans from nose and tails
The chase led near a log
Where they disturbed a hive of bees
Who then chased cat and dog
Forgotten was their hateful feud
And running from the bees
They jumped upon the Preacher’s wife
And scratched her arms and knees
The woman, screaming from her fright
Pushed cat and dog away
She swatted bees with paper plates
Then fled, in her dismay
Well, cat and dog and Preacher’s wife
With bees in close pursuit
Ran right on through the food again
And squashed a bowl of fruit
With shoe caught in a melon wedge
Miz Preacher set the pace
For cat and dog and angry bees
Like some made comic race
They headed for a scummy pond
The Preacher’s wife jumped in
The dog and cat joined her there
In water to her chin
The cat and dog were terrified
And shared the woman’s space
The dog was first – sat on her head
With cat astride her face
The Preacher’s wife was traumatized
I know, I heard her swear
A string of words not fit for man
As she dislodged the pair
The bees turned back, still angry
And headed up the hill
Our group, in mass, ran screaming
Including cousin Will
He headed for the old outhouse
And in his drunken role
He lost his balance in his haste
And fell into the hole
In extricating Uncle Will
(And laughing as he did)
John’s teeth fell out, and need I tell
Just where the darn things slid
He scooped them out with hot-dog forks
And washed them off with beer
Then placed them on a log to air
And blushed from ear to ear
Then Martha’s dog grabbed the teeth . . .
John’s anger was afire
And another chase was under way
Through bramble-bush and briar
Emerging from the underbrush
John’s language was a sin
The teeth were caught in Fido’s mouth
In toothy canine grin
Hank caught the dog as he ran past
And pulled the denture free
The dog then showed his gratitude
And bit him on the knee
So Hank let out a piercing scream
And cursed his luckless fate
Just then a crow high overhead
Dropped bird-doo on his pate
It splattered down in Hank’s toupee
And whitewashed jet black curls
What made it worse was when he heard
The laughter from the girls
He shook the wig against a bush
Arousing skunks near-by
One lifted up his angry tail
And let his essence fly
Those catching spray coughed and wheezed
And rolled upon the ground,
They burned their clothes, right on the spot
And in the sheets were wound
Mosquitoes tortured everyone
And chiggers did their best
To make us scratch in misery
And put us to the test
The wind blew sand in everything
In food, and eyes, and nose
And sunburns were a sizzling red
From bald heads to bare toes
Small babies cried relentlessly
And children fought all day
“Dear Lord, please let this day speed by!”
I heard the Mothers pray
To top it off, as if on cue
Dark clouds then drifted in
The rain came down in buckets full
And soaked us to the skin
We rushed to pack our things away
But shouts were loud and clear …
“It’s sure been a wonderful day!
Let’s do it again next year!”