When I was a mere teenager,
my dad made a little wager.
Could I manage to exist
by guile and craft and will and fist
without allowance or assistance?
It was not at his insistence,
and in no way was I miffed
at his challenge aimed at thrift.
I packed a bag and caught a lift.
For one year I would simply drift.
Quietly would I abscond
and win my keep as vagabond.
I’d leave a life humdrum and canned
to live a life less gray and bland.
And thus I started my vacation
around our great and varied nation.
In California, I mowed lawns,
in Texas, worked at shucking prawns.
Combined wheat in South Dakota.
Then made off for Minnesota.
Washing pots and dishing curry,
worked my way down to Missouri.
In Tennessee I met with luck
and crossed the whole state in a truck,
but by D.C. and Baltimore,
grunt labor had become a bore,
so when I finally reached the ocean,
suddenly I had the notion
to make a call to dad from son
telling him his son had won.
The call I made was not in vain,
for next day I was on a plane.
Tattered, back-sore, sunburned, chapped,
I showed my dad the miles I’d mapped.
He slapped my back and said, “Well, son,
you’ve done what I wished I had done
before I did each of those things
that doing what one ‘should’ do brings.”
He slapped a check into my hand
and promised college, job or land.
I would be sent to school or hired—
whatever now I most desired.
I told my dad I’d let him know
but for just now I had to go.
I hit the bank and cashed his check,
bought new clothes and washed my neck.
Grabbed my passport, kissed my mom,
let her feed me, dropped the bomb.
Hugged my dad, then counted coup
and hopped a plane for Katmandu.
I hadn’t traveled my last mile,
but from now on, I’d go in style!
Tongue in Cheek
If you cannot still your tongue and it tends to flutter,
my remedy’s a sandwich of bread and peanut butter.
It is the perfect cure-all. If your problem is your stuttering,
it quickly turns your dialogue into a slower muttering.
And if your daily habit is reorganizing clutter,
a palate full of pb gives a different way to putter.
Although you may be jealous that I have a sure solution
for stuttering and puttering, please grant me absolution.
Don’t hold my thoughts against me as I offer resolution
to problems such as famine, global warming and pollution,
then give my sure-fire remedy for war and revolution.
I simply cannot help that I’m ahead in evolution!
I tend to wax nostalgic when I think of all the times
I’ve solved our planet’s problems within my daily rhymes,
for as I view predicaments in all the different climes—
political maneuverings and other selfish crimes—
all the foolish misdeeds best abandoned in our primes—
I feel I owe it to the world to dish out paradigms!!!
If my constant words of wisdom set your stomachs churning,
cause regret to fill your minds and set your eyes to burning,
if you reject solutions, thereby all my wisdom spurning,
considering “unfollowing” and never once returning,
please reconsider doing so. Try being more discerning.
And let me be your guru—your font of further learning!!!
The prompts today are putter, jealous, nostalgic and return. Here are links:
There was a little gadget I bought two years ago
but when it came to using it, I was a little slow.
Since instructions were too difficult, I maintained the status quo
and continued, when I lost my keys, to seek them high and low,
looking in the old way by fumbling through my purse,
perusing tabletops and hooks and wastebaskets and worse.
Every time I lost my keys, I’d fuss and swear and wheeze,
searching drawers and closets on my tiptoes or my knees.
But recently I found the box where I’d stowed the appliance
and decided that I’d make another try at an alliance.
I tested its small battery and found plenty of juice
to assure its assistance in my tracker’s use.
After struggling to get the battery inside
the little TrackRbravo disk where it would reside,
I fetched the brief instructions which accomplished not a thing.
I could not pair it to my phone, and it refused to ring.
I made a trip to YouTube which helped a small bit more.
When I pushed the button, I heard a small faint roar.
And after just an hour, I’d linked it to my phone.
No more would my keychain roam this earth alone.
At first I searched and searched and searched, and I searched in vain
for the spot upon my phone where I could complain
when I could not find the place where my keys had hidden
so I could find them in the spot to which I had been bidden.
When I finally found the spot—a paltry little dot,
where I had never thought to look, although I looked a lot—
I pushed the button and I heard for the initial time
my keychain’s piping little voice––it’s initiation chime.
As hard as this procedure was, I knew it could be worse,
and I felt a sense of power tossing keys into my purse
full of reassurance that I’d not be late
due to searching for my keys before my luncheon date.
But hours before I had to go, I heard a little buzz
making more disturbance than a mosquito does.
I tracked it to my table, then tracked it to my bag.
insistently, it whined at me––an annoying little nag.
I went back to my phone and found the place to quell its stammer,
then settled down to work again, relieved of all its clamor.
But then, alas, five minutes more, and it went off again.
It seems that it can’t wait for my request to start its din.
And so now, five hours later, I’ve been out and came back home.
I’m sitting at computer, composing this dumb poem.
I feasted with three favorite friends and I enjoyed it so,
but, alas, my TrackRbravo didn’t get to go.
I removed it from my car keys and stashed it far away
thinking that a quiet place its panic would allay.
But hear that little buzzing sound coming from my closet?
No matter what I try to do, I cannot seem to pause it.
And though I know what’s causing it, I cannot make it freeze.
It just goes off at random, whenever it may please.
Perhaps it’s looking for my keys and does not have a clue
and instead of just one problem, I find that I have two!
The prompt words today are closet, paltry, fetching and feast. Here are the links:
Okay, this goes so well with my earlier post of Southern Discomfort that I have to reblog it. Thanks, Joyfultobeeblogs for bringing it to my attention.
I saw this video today and have to share it. Not all Southern women are the same but these ladies are saying a lot of the expressions I have heard from Louisiana to North Carolina. We don’t all talk like these women but most of us have used some of their expressions in our life. This and other videos of the same name were first shown on the Southern Women Channel. I just wanted to share them with you.
You will laugh!
No Head for Business
I fear I must be adamant in stating my demands.
In this I am unshakeable. My initial sales price stands.
I do not like this bargaining. I find it all a chore.
I’d rather be off wandering. Business is a bore.
And though I must admit that your demeanor is most affable,
your offer is too little. In fact I find it laughable.
It will do no good to counter offer. I’m set on the price
that would reimburse me for leaving paradise.
I have no bottom offer. This is no power game.
To nickel and to dime it is a practice I find lame.
The palm trees are all swaying, there’s hot water in the pool,
and the more I think about it, I see that I’m a fool
to leave this little Shangri-la. Where would I find its sequel?
It’s clear that for the price I ask I could not find its equal!
Here swinging in my hammock with a cocktail and my pup,
I am so contented that my sales price just went up!!
Prompt words today were chore, affable, adamant and power.