A FISH TALE
Small fish should abide by the rules
And swim in their own fishy-schools
But if they should tire
It’s all right to hire
The service of river carp-pools
9/91 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck
Posted in Animals, Humor, Limerick, Poetry, tagged fish, schools, tale on Wednesday,April 1, 2009| 2 Comments »
A FISH TALE
Small fish should abide by the rules
And swim in their own fishy-schools
But if they should tire
It’s all right to hire
The service of river carp-pools
9/91 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck
Posted in friends, love, Memories, Poetry, Rhyming, tagged Country Store, friends, games, tale on Friday,March 6, 2009| Leave a Comment »
DOWN AT THE COUNTRY STORE
A group of friends meet once a week
To tell tall tales and more
While busy playing games of Whist
Down at the country store
All six are in their seventies
And friends from days of yore
They drink a bit and chew a cud
Down at the country store
They liked to spit, but never miss
An old brass cuspidor
There they cuss without rebuff
Down at the country store
When they were young they made a pact . . .
An oath, to which they swore
And they discuss that very thing
Down at the country store
They laugh a lot about the past
From chuckle to a roar
What’s said is often whispered there
Down at the country store
I’ve seen a tear slip from an eye
And drop down to the floor
When one retells an old old tale
Down at the country store
They help each other when there’s need
No matter what the chore
Then pat each other on the back
Down at the country store
7/26/05 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck
Posted in Family, My Thoughts, Nature, Poetry, Rhyming, tagged Grimm, homestead, lodge-pole pines, tale, Uncle Jeb on Thursday,February 26, 2009| Leave a Comment »
UNCLE JEB’S LEG
When Uncle Jeb was in his prime
And chose to settle down,
He found a piece of land up north,
Several miles from town.
He’d say it was “the good old days” –
A nearly perfect life,
For he was busy every day
On a homestead for his wife.
Across the lake were lodge-pole pines,
Just perfect for his needs.
He rowed across to cut some down,
Then trudged through waist-high weeds.
He cut down three, to float across,
Not so with number four,
It knocked him down and trapped his leg
There on the forest floor.
Since Jeb was trapped and injured
At waning of the day,
His Collie, Shag, stayed by his side,
To chase the wolves away.
But night’s dark curtain, beckoned..
The wolves would soon come back.
Though Shag would fight his best for him,
He couldn’t lick a pack.
Jeb unsheathed his skinner knife
To set himself free, …
Cutting through the mashed bone
Just below the knee.
He crawled and slithered to the boat,
And rowed himself back home,
Then rode a horse ten miles to town,
Down trails he used to roam.
That’s Uncle Jeb’s story
About how he lost his limb..
I believed it when a child – but,
Could it be a tale GRIMM?
8/28/05 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck