The leery lady from Lake Erie… a sort of limerick

There was a lady who lived near Lake Erie,
who was cheery and bright
most of the time…
but when she grew weary she soon became leery
of things that go bump in the night.

“You’re a coward,” said her hubby,
(whose name was Howard)
“afraid of a shadow
…or mouse…or a deer.
What would happen if I wasn’t here?”

“Why, I’d get a gun,” said the lady from Erie
“if a faerie or elf or goblin appeared…
I’d get all teary and shoot off its earring!”
“But that would be silly,” said Howard,
“…that only would make it more eerie.”

“I’d rather have it be eerie in Erie,
than down a couple of beers.”
“Well, Dearie, that doesn’t make sense!”
The lady replied with a gleam in her eye:
“I’d rather have Scotch when its eerie in Erie.”

© Sometimes, 2017

a bit of haiku…because I like you

Topsy Turvy
twists and turns happen
each day the world turns tighter,
like a spinning top

©Sometimes, 2017

 

Connections
What can be made of them…
the funny snaps and buttons
…old-fashion Velcro?

©Sometimes, 2017

 

   Join Me
Come and dance with me
across the hills and time streams
let’s echo always!

© Sometimes, 2017

 

light
a sliver of moonbeam
winks warmly in the night sky
…brightens dim places

© Sometimes, 2017

 

inheritance
hair of yellow sunshine
flowing gently in the breeze
reminds of Vikings

© Sometimes, 2017

 

Who Knows Cats?

I am compelled to re-post this photo of MAWKIN and a cat poem from last year. In this shot he was observing our efforts to clean the garage.

SOMETIMES

DSC03167

 Kitty…
Where do you go
When you vanish like that?
How do you reappear so soon?
Why are you napping now?
What is your game?
Who knows?

© Sometimes, 2016

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ambivalence

(Day 12, 2017)

which is worse…cold crisp snow
that freezes the toes and tip of the nose
that chills our  livers  and sends shivers up the spine
—or melting  slush of wet and grime?

in place of charming crunch of boots
and pinching cheeks rosy and frosting young shoots
discouraged from peeping ‘oer the sturdy ground
that protects from  sinking deep in the mire…

wading through former fresh fallen snow,
now transformed into slurping melting slush pools
seeping into shoes and soaking pantlegs
dripping and sogging our ankles..

soon more sparkling drifts of snow
will follow, draping upon the slush of yesterday…
adorning crests and crevices with camouflage
of winter’s beauty…just tread with care.

© Sometimes, 2017

 

Have a Coffee?

What’s new this morning?
We have run out of coffee.
Real coffee, that is,
that comes in a container
and needs to be brewed…
we have the kind in a jar.

To me…no matter…
coffee is coffee I say:
as long as its black,
not too weak or strong in taste,
hot enough for me.
Though some turn up their noses.

New and improved
mixes well in cold water….
no annoying foam!
Just pop in the microwave
’til the timer dings,
Fresh  Coffee!   Without the fuss!

Alas! For purists,
who may plaintively lament,
craving  “real” coffee …
my suggestion is simple:
as Grandma would say—
“Have a cup of TEA!”

© Sometimes, 2016

 

 

Observations and Gossip

Wow!   Just WOW!   That’s a new IN saying, has anyone noticed?    It is a simple phrase that can be applied to most any situation.

Admiration…Wow!  Did you check the CNN anchor’s HAIR!   Wow!  I haven’t decided if I like her hair that way or not.   Between you and me, it may be a tad TOO blonde.   In fact, while on that subject…have you noticed how so many of those women are blonde?–even the brunettes are blonde.  How come there aren’t any redheads?   It used to be de rigeur, back in the day, to try to get an equal number of blondes, brunettes, and redheads.  This will probably date me, but how about Betty Grable, Hedy Lamaar, and Rita Hayworth???   Huh??? (wink wink)

Say what?    NO…I really like blondes.   I love blondes.    And furthermore, to demonstrate that I am definitely NOT sexist…I also love “blonds.”  That’s how fair-haired MEN should be described.    In my family, which is VERY-extended, there are always lots of blonde/blonds.     I always attribute that to our Viking ancestor that someone found back in the family tree.     But to be fair, there are LOTS of ancestors back there….and they all have different colors of hair.

I always ought it was a tremendous rip-off that I had brown hair…nearly black in fact…and my sisters were BLONDES.   My cousins were Blondes.  Even some of my kids are blonde/blonds.      I was always very jealous of this fact.   Once I thought of becoming a redhead, which was what I always wanted to be…but when I tried it the dye (oops…coloring)  that the beautician used produced more of a brassy copper sort-of-maroonish hue.  It was quite remarkable—and WOW! what comments I got.

To get back to the News Media people’s hair,   it always strikes me as incongruous when a striking, intelligent, educated, knowledgeable woman—especially if she is wearing a slinky cocktail dress under her flack jacket—is reporting in a serious and somber no-nonsense tone of voice the latest news about murder and mayhem and general disasters across the world.      I like the more casual hair-styles the news people are allowed out in the wind and rain….by the way, did you SEE what happened when the storm blew up and rain poured down on the CNN broadcast yesterday?      That was a great segment—wind whipping  hair and blowing chairs around?

WOW!    I LOVE that kind of stuff!

 

 

an Ode to black plastic

once  an idea born
of  clever innovation
stoked by sheer frugality:
cost of a proper venue
then happened to be
not only exhorbitant…
unavailable
within possible limits.

the giant wedding feast,
too much for facilities
existing that time,
required adequate shelter
more than from our trees.
for rain inevitable
promised for morrow.

“I’ve got it!” He exclaimed,
“we will buy some black plastic
and cover the yard!”
“Perhaps this will do,” said Wife.
Enthusiasm peaking,
He concurred– “oh yes!
I have an idea, too…”

“Two poles and a tree
will provide the Eastern side,
meet the same at West…
and the span will keep us dry.”
The good wife replied–
“Oh that will not work, my love…
here’s what we must do!”

Her plan was to stretch
the soft, pliable vinyl
o’er the garage roof
to provide give and support
for stability.
“Otherwise the whole
contraption will fall.”

“My dear, your lack of
engineering skill aside,
experience shall prevail…”
the project commenced.
So up went the support poles,
wobbling at cover…
and the wind began to blow.

Forever after,
in tales of family lore,
appropo or not,
the legend of black plastic
collapsing with grace…
an audible WOOSH…
will endure forever.

© Sometimes, 2016.