The Big Dance

The Big Dance

There's a big dance,

being held in town tonight.

I'm going to it,

and want everything right.

A very special lady,

I just might meet.

I need to look sharp,

and be light on my feet.

I pressed my best shirt,

and got the wrinkles out.

I slicked my dark hair back,

with oil of trout.

I matched my argyle socks,

and shined each shoe.

They glimmered as bright

as early morning dew.

I rolled the fuzzy lint,

off my blue blazer.

I shaved my face,

with my electric razor.

I put a Windsor knot,

in my bright red tie.

I dabbed on cologne,

what a sharp lookin' guy.

I showed up on time,

in very high style.

I walked inside,

people started to smile.

Actually they laughed.

I showed up at the dance,

I thought I was set…

but I forgot my pants!

Write It Right, Again

Write It Right, Again

It hurts to get taller,

so you groan cause you've grown.

After the queen pitches her chair,

she's thrown the throne.

If you drown in food coloring,

you die in dye.

When you wave from a ladder,

you say "hi" from high.

A boy lion's primary hair,

is his main mane.

An arrogant artery,

is a vein that's vain.

When a vaulter votes,

he takes his pole to the poll.

A baby horse that's done eating,

is a full foal.

Chopping your after dinner treats?

You mince your mints.

Evidence of the king's son?

The prints of the prince.

If you've canoed the highway,

you've rowed on the road.

If you dragged a reptile,

then you towed a toad.

If you carry a corridor,

you haul a hall.

Shopping with your wedge?

You take your maul to the mall.

Buy a fresh wildebeest,

you'll have a gnu that's new.

A plane ride when you were sick?

You flew with the flu.

Poking your teacher politely,

you tacked with tact.

If you toted the agreement,

you packed the pact.

You're tired on a hilltop,

so nap on the knap.

Because of that,

I'll just quickly- wrap up this rap.

Underweight Nate

Underweight Nate

Down by the tracks,

near a rotten log,

I found a poor,

starving puppy dog.

He was sick and scruffy,

I hoped I wasn't too late,

I took him home,

and called him Underweight Nate.

I gave Nate a bath,

and brushed out his fur,

he no longer looked,

like a mangy cur.

I wanted to feed him,

so we went to the kitchen,

I tell ya, for some food,

that boy was itchin'!

I gave him beef stew,

sausage and eggs,

crackers and cheese,

and some turkey legs.

He filled up on bacon,

and a ham bone,

I gave him pasta,

and an ice cream cone.

This went on,

for a month or so,

and now Nate's belly,

was starting to show.

I cared for the health,

of my new little pup,

so I took him to the vet,

for a check-up.

The vet said, "Change her name,

and feed her something leafy."

So it's cabbage and lettuce now...

for Beefy Fifi.

A Place To Play

A Place To Play


It was a place to play,
with trucks and cars,
buckets and boats and mason jars.

We built castles with moats,
and drawbridges,
high atop great mountain ridges.

We would dig deep ditches,
and long tunnels,
then fill with hoses and funnels.

We'd carve out a deep pit,
and fill with brew,
and dance around like witches do.

With some firecrackers,
we could explode,
toy soldiers like a landmine load.

We were not very rich,
but rather poor,
and this can't be bought in a store.

Now as I'm thinking back,
I'm happy still,
cause I grew up... with a dirt hill.

Sock

Sock

Ever get a hole,

in the toe of your sock?

Or in the heel?

It's quite hard to walk.

Your toe gets cold.

Your heel gets sweaty.

To throw that sock away,

you are ready.

But it is certainly,

not very funny,

to waste a whole bunch,

of hard earned money.

You decide to mend it,

to save a dime.

It can't be that hard,

it should take no time.

You pick up a sharp needle,

and some good strong thread,

but by the time you thread it,

you're practically dead!

So you get some yarn,

and two needles to knit it,

after what seems like a year,

you just forget it.

You decide to skip,

all the thread and yarn.

You toss the sock in the trash,

and say, "Darn!"

Uncle Vern

Uncle Vern

They're bushy as a brier,

and bright red as a fire,

sticking out like a sore thumb.

They're strong as a Velcro strap,

in the wind they flop and flap,

which causes an eerie hum.

They're napkins at the table,

or where ever they're able,

to stop each morsel and crumb.

A pirate couldn't grow these,

or a trucker named Louise,

but maybe a tough street bum.

They could be a fishing net,

on this you can surely bet,

you'd catch fewer fish with chum.

You ask:

What are these, pretty please?

We say:

They're Uncle Vern's... side-burns!

Too Soon June

Too Soon June

Before the others,

start to run,

Too Soon June,

always jumps the gun.

Before the others,

sing and shout,

Too Soon June,

blows her candles out.

Before there's a worm,

on her hook,

Too Soon June,

casts out in the brook.

Before her bread,

can even toast,

Too Soon June's

eaten it almost.

Before her shoes,

are on just right,

Too Soon June's,

got them laced up tight.

Before this poem,

can come to age,

Too Soon June's...

turned the page.