Posts Tagged ‘mess’


‘Tis the evening of Christmas and in our old house
The snoring shakes windows . . . I speak of my spouse
He said he’s exhausted, though not one to shirk
He just looked on, as I did the work

I purchased and wrapped ….. ‘twas left up to me
Baked cookies galore and put up the tree
Now the kids are playing with a few old toys
The new ones are broken; so much for new joys

The floor is quite messy with boxes and bows
And discarded ribbons . . . along with new clothes
New puppy just did what puppies do best
He wet on the floor, his hourly quest.

The fireplace clogged – I was choking on smoke
My husband kept snoring and never awoke
The tree got knocked over – I cleaned up the mess
What happens next, is anyone’s guess

Hot chocolate spilled from a broken mug
And cookies got ground right into the rug
The turkey’s a carcass, the leftover’s, few
I’m left with the dishes, but that’s nothing new

And out in the kitchen where pans are piled high
I scrub and I scour, and I sigh . . . and I sigh
Am I tired? You bet! I’ve stayed up too late
So fell fast asleep with my face in my plate

We waited all year for this wonderful day
And I’m glad that the next one’s A FULL YEAR AWAY

11/22/95 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck
(revised 12/02)

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My tidy desk



This is the room where-in I write

I know you think it’s quite a sight

You look askance at all the piles

But those are what I call my files


I sure get chided for this mess

What’s underneath, I cannot guess

But I can’t write without them near

And it’s up to me to make it clear


Though every magazine and book

May only have a cursory look

I know what all  those pages hold

Needing them all, though some are old


They’re carelessly piled upon the floor

There’s barely room for any more

Among the mess, hide pens and clips

And copious notes on little slips


And maybe there’s a bill or two

That fell there, as the piles grew

And “greetings” that I failed to send . . .

Oh, the piles just never end


I tried to tidy them one time

So, laid aside my current rhyme

And spent the whole darn dreary day

Clipping and filing and putting away


Then lost my sandwich right at noon

I think it’s smelling up this room

But if I search the piles you see

I’ll make a mess, and that can’t be


11/30/06       Phyllis DeWitt -VanVleck

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He doesn’t hear his Mother call

When he’s engrossed in play.

He doesn’t hear a thing she says,

Like, “Clean your room today.”


But when she whispers to his Dad,

“McDonald’s where we’ll eat,”

If he’s a block away he’ll come

Like fire’s at his feet.


When Mother asks, “Is homework done?”

Or, “Did you break this vase?”

It seems the child has gone stone-deaf.

No clue’s upon his face.


But when there’s secrets to be told

Mom hopes he has not heard,

His hearing is acute, of course,

He heard each whispered word.


When Mom commands, “Go wash your hands,”

Or, “Please pick up that mess,”

The fact of does he hear or not

Is anybody’s guess.


Then, rooms away, in muffled voice,

Are words , “The Ice Cream Store.”

His hearing’s back, I guarantee;

He’s waiting at the door.



8/20/93       Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck


5’th … Indiana NPD 1994

1’st … Arkansas NPD 1997

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This is my desk

       WHAT MESS ?


Pencils, pens, huge paper clip

Rubber bands for every fit

A million things in disarray

That I should straighten out today


I know you’re right, it is a mess

What all is here, is just a guess

But if I tidy and throw things out

What will you then all talk about


7/12/96   Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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