Going out to dinner have you do the dishes
There’s something satisfying in a home cooked meal.
Although that is my preference, a restaurant has appeal
As they bring me out my dinner and grant my every wish
And when I’m finished eating, I don’t clean a single dish.
Fumes from a Diaper Pail
I know the smell of diapers can build up in a room,
At the transfer point from diaper pale into a trashy tomb.
Soon contained in our garage until one once again exhumes
The smell of children’s waste by unlidding fragrant fumes.
When you’re driving next to me.
I feel as if I’m hexed to
Avoid the man I’m next to
Although part of me would see
Who it is that’s next to me.
I think I cut him off about a half a mile back.
I’d much rather avoid him and his audible attack.
If I slow though, he will slow, so know I’ve found the need for speed
But he mirrors me and it fears me since I can’t get a good read
On “who is this guy,” and why would he try to annoy me so much
When I’d rather lose him, turn and confuse him and such
To avoid these paranoid scenarios
That won’t even compare to those
Random experiences I have in real life.
I decide to look over and see my wife.
Happy “What” day?
Why not have a greeting card holiday
Where greeting card companies rule the way
We act towards each other
By giving another
Pre-expressed greeting that we can relay.
Otherwise how would we know what to say?
What Makes Kids Behave in Church.
“Why is it your children behave well in church
They sit quietly on that wooden pew perch
As if their stone statues, the saints of today,
Why won’t my kids start behaving that way?”
Taken aback by the question at hand,
I answered her question so she’d understand
Why my children will listen all throughout mass
With only a question or two that they pass
From their sweet little lips to fatherly ear,
And with whispers I answer each question I hear.
In fact as a father I relish the task
Growing fearful myself with each question they ask.
“Dad, how do they make the stained glass?”
“Good Question son, I don’t mean to be crass,
But they find little boys who won’t sit and behave,
Find their bright colored toys and give them a shave.
They take these toy shavings from primary toys,
Melt them down into windows, so stop making noise.”
I’m never real sure of the questions he brings
But I’ve gotten quite good at explaining these things.
“Why do those singers keep singing so bad?”
“‘Cause God took the beautiful voices they had.
They were talking to loud during church one day,
when they should have been kneeling to quietly pray.”
“How come the other kids are eating cheerios?”
“They get one meal a week and that’s it I suppose.”
“What’s with people passing a basket full of money,
is it to take a rainy day and make it sunny?”
“You have to give up your allowance if you don’t eat all your veggies
Or they’ll hang you on the wall and you’ll have eternal wedgies
Like those statues of the saints that are wedged up on the wall
All because they didn’t eat when vegetables would call.”
The one that takes the cake though is the shark tank that they’ll fill
If they find out there’s a little boy in church that can’t sit still.
Don’t make me take you back there or the sharks might be released.
They’ll smell out misbehavior and have a cry-room feast.
Drive Me to Think.
If you drive me to drink, I won’t drive.
If you cause me to think I won’t thrive.
The intellect sedation
in our stumbling conversation
suggests to me our wit will not survive.
Survival of the fittest won’t apply
Beer guts will be attached until we die
We’ll drink down to the dregs
Turn our six packs into kegs
Then pander life and liberty, or try.
I found this one in my journal.
INK.
Nothing frustrates me more
Than when you’re about to sink
Into deep thoughts galore
And then you run out of
Document29
I hit command “N” and reveal document29
A blank slate pretends there’s a poem inside my mind
That fits on this glowing white screen
Overlaying a cluttered desktop unseen.
After clicking through 28 different starts
This new document departs
From the poems I’m not quite ready to pound out,
Those I’d rather take time to sound out.
This deadline of a daily poem entertains me
While at the same time it restrains me
From elaborating on ideas that need more than a day
To be developed in a more careful way.
Which is why this is document29 on my desktop,
Where I write something I won’t have to stop
And think too deeply about
As I crank another one out.
Flat soda switch out
When your soft drink sitting out is flat
Should you be upset by that?
Tell me what the standard is
With soda pops that lose their fiz.
Too often I’ve made the two-can mistake,
Left one out and grabbed another.
When concentration is allowed to break,
I go for one, then grab the other.
For me it’s the same feeling I get
When I drink milk but some how think
I should be tasting OJ and yet
I’m holding a completely different drink.
Utensils for Eating Ice Cream
Ice cream should only be served with a small spoon.
So that the end will not arrive too soon.
A large spoon makes the moment all too short
But will suffice if it’s a last resort.
The other exception that I could make
Is eating ice cream with my cake.
I wouldn’t break the cake-fork combination
For the small spoon Ice cream sensation.
Plastic forks though, change the rule of play
Since you don’t know when a prong might break away.
When using plastic, a spoon’s the way to go
To be safe on all utensil rules I know.
But the one ice cream utensil that’s the best
By far, held up above the rest
That trumps the spoon rules I suppose
Would be the one that’s underneath your nose.
BonjourPoetry 