Posts Tagged ‘poem’


After she was gone
I found scraps of paper
Each piece torn
from whatever was at hand
when thoughts possessed her mind,
or touched her heart.
Little reminders
jotted down when senses
stirred her to capture
a piece of beauty
or a fragment of emotion.
Words, phrases, ideas
upon which she would
later elaborate.
Drawing from those small
scraps, pages of stirring
discourse that could make
one lose himself
in laughter, or touch
one’s heart to tears.
Those bits of written
emotion reflect how she
found beauty in everything,
and she comes alive
in the words
she jotted down
Musing about their value,
I could not destroy them.

In my closet upon a shelf,
there is a candy box
that holds her essence.
It is full of life and love
recorded on scraps of paper,
reminding me of her.
She was a poem.

2/5/93 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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Favoring Rhyme



I love to write a rhythmic poem,

With words that rhyme, like dome and home.

A poem in which the written word

Is understood and not absurd.


A poem that has a story line,

That doesn’t border asinine.

A poem in which the first verse read

Doesn’t clutter up one’s head.


Not cloaked in obscure masquerade,

Confusing what’s to be conveyed.

A poem for heart and soul and mind.

A poem that now seems hard to find.


I guess I’ll write some for myself

And place them high upon the shelf.

Then if the future favors rhyme,

They’ll be accepted at that time.


You’ll read the written word with ease

About such things a poet sees,

When complex forms are out of style

And rhyme returns in high profile.


9/3/93      Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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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!”



7/27/92                Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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