Poems, Personals, and Commentary

Archive for the ‘Humor’ Category

The Root of the Problem :)

Tale of the Rat: Two Sequels

THAT FEARFUL THING

That fearful thing did quiet lurk.
It disappeared into the dirt.

I dreaded to that thing go near;
With apprehension I did fear.

I set a trap to catch that thing.
I’d catch it good, with trap to sting.

I knew it must a monster be.
I knew it lurked to get at me.

What wonder did my eyes behold —
‘Twas not a rat, but lizard bold.

It looked benign, it stared at me.
It did not jump — sat quietly.

And now I’ve given the thing a name.
My fear misplaced — it’s not to blame.

—————————————————————————————————————————

IN DARK SHADOWS

In dark shadows live our fears;
In half-seen pictures, fear comes near.
In hidden places lurk our doubts;
In darkest alleys, doubt comes out.

Our thoughts get twisted, tied in knots —
Contorted, garbled — truth it’s not.
Imagination — it runs wild.
We’re fearful like a little child.

Until the light of love turns on,
Until God’s truth shines like the sun.
Until we give Him all our fears —
And then He calms and dries our tears.

On Magnolia Street

[In Mountain View, the city has planted
magnolia trees along many streets. This
was written after a morning walk.]

On Magnolia Street in Mountain View
My nose was tickl’d by morning dew.

I kicked the seed pods as I passed,
Though squirrels found them great repast.

The pods had ruin’d my mow’r twice,
Left on the lawn against advice.

So if you walk in Mountain View
Please stop and do pick up a few.

Cruisin’ the Interstate

Lemons, tomatoes
Brimming over in trucks.
Big 16-wheelers
Between which we’re stuck.

Windmill propellers
Sixty feet long.
Convoy of army trucks;
Young men looking strong.

Low-riding race cars
Police were escorting.
Garlic aromas
And cattle all lowing.

Tall tandem bicycles
Built for a scream.
Cruisin’ on the highway
Was it a dream?

(2011)

The Village Kitty

Under a spreading Christmas tree

The village kitty lies;

The kitty, mighty cat is he,

With large and glaring eyes;

The talons of his furry paws

Are sharp as kitchen knives.

 

His hair is thick, and orange, and long;

His face is rather tan.

His tongue is wet; he won’t forget

To lick his owner’s hand.

And also licks the same one’s face,

For to lick he thinks is grand.

 

Week in, week out, from morn ’til night,

You can hear his vig’rous purr;

Can hear his little kitty bell

Whenever he does stir.

He slinks around his owner’s house

And loves his owner well.

 

And children coming home from school

Look in at open door;

They love to see his glaring eyes

And hear his mighty purr,

And watch as he does stretch and turn

And lick is lengthy fur.

 

He won’t go Sunday to the church,

For it is not too near;

He’ll miss the preaching, and the choir —

His meowing would cause fear.

But singing in the village choir

His owners do with cheer.

 

Rolling — stretching — yawning,

Onward through life he goes;

Each morning sees the food put out,

Each evening sees it go;

Something eaten, something caught,

He’s earned his night’s repose.

 

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy cat,

For lessons thou has taught!

If I could sit around all day,

I hope I’d not be caught!

I better not so lazy be

Or poor will be my lot.

 

 

[With apologies to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow]

Riddle/Pun #1

Q: What do you call a hardware technician who joins a monastery?

A: A chipmunk.

The Brat

I really am a spoiled brat,

Lazy and I live on fat

Lots of money, lots of time,

Like to grumble, like to whine.

Though I’m better off than most,

Of my problems like to boast,

Like to grumble, like to whine,

For others’ problems have no time.

Need a dose of gratitude,

Need to get a better view,

Need to buckle down and work;

Not be such a lazy jerk.

Need a Savior Who can say,

“I love you, like you, anyway.”

Need to let His gracious love

Rain on me from up above.

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