Tag Archives: Reblog

Fork in the Road

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I can’t resist sharing my favorite Dr. Seuss Poem about a fork in the road:

“The Zoad In The Road”
                                                          by Dr. Seuss 

Did I ever tell you about the young Zoad?
Who came to a sign at the fork of the road?
He looked one way and the other way too –
the Zoad had to make up his mind what to do.
Well, the Zoad scratched his head, and his chin, and his pants.
And he said to himself, “I’ll be taking a chance.
If I go to Place One, that place may be hot
So how will I know if I like it or not.
On the other hand, though, I’ll feel such a fool
If I go to Place Two and find it’s too cool
In that case I may catch a chill and turn blue.
So Place One may be best and not Place Two.
Play safe,” cried the Zoad, “I’ll play safe, I’m no dunce.
I’ll simply start off to both places at once.”
And that’s how the Zoad who would not take a chance
Went no place at all with a split in his pants.

 

For the Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge: Fork in the Road

Ben Dykstra’s Bottom

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All of Ben Dykstra!!!

When Dwight Roth of Rothpoetry commented on this old post it caused me to read it again and I laughed so hard that I had to reblog it again. Who can’t use a good laugh? Thanks, Dwight, for bringing it to mind again. (Be sure to read the part about the church bulletin snafus…the part about dad is just an intro to it.)

lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown

murdo-coyote-march-28-2013_5889da83b6d87faea58b4b72

Every region has its own vernacular and sometimes we are not aware of how familiar terms of our childhood might be to others.  My dad was a farmer/rancher in South Dakota  where a low-lying field or land near a river was called a “bottom.”  My dad loved a good joke, but not so much when it was on him; thus, while we laughed until we were ill, he never cracked a smile as he read the following news in The Murdo Coyote, our local small-town newspaper: “The men are busy this week moving dirt on Ben Dykstra’s bottom.”  

One local wit was heard to observe that his bottom must be a sizeable one to afford that amount of activity for that length of time.

DSC09955

Another small town diversion, other than the local newspaper, was the church bulletin. Typed and mimeographed by a volunteer before the age of the…

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Talking Turkey: Flashback Friday, Nov 26, 2021

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For Fandango’s Flashback Friday  we are asked to reblog a post we made exactly a year ago. Oddly, enough, I found that I’ve written three different poems on this date for the past three years and they are all named “Talking Turkey!”  This is the one I wrote exactly one year ago today on November 26.

Talking Turkey

I’d rather be footloose, I’d rather be free.
No more will I languish on any man’s knee.
I’ll eat all of my gravy and none of my peas,
get up and retire whenever I please.
I’ll retrieve no one’s underwear off of the floor.
When I use the potty, I won’t shut the door.
I won’t cover my mouth when I burp or I sneeze.
I’ll open the window to enjoy the breeze
or shut my house up as tight as a drum,
eat all the cookies to the last crumb.
I’ll dine for a month on my Turkey Day turkey.
I’ll be selfish and weird and eccentric and quirky.
For as much as I love human interactions,
 living alone has its own satisfactions.

Prompt words today are: human, gravy, retrieve and footloose.

Nostalgic Revisit

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Above is the photo Cee asked us to pick a topic from. I could not resist linking to the below post from years ago that looks like it could have been taken in the same place that Cee’s was. I took these photos at Anne of Green Gable’s house on Prince Edward Island. If you’ve seen them before, hope you enjoy seeing them again:

Sweet Little Pain

For CMMC, Pick a Topic from My Photo.

To Be Enlightened

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I wanted to share with you this informative and thoughtful article by Fandango published on his Flashback Friday Blog:

To Be Enlightened

Image result for kid with a gun

“I don’t understand,” Hal said. “It’s just a handgun and I got it to protect our home and family.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll enlighten you,” Rosemary said. “Statistics show that a gun in the home is more likely to be used in a homicide, suicide, or unintentional shooting than to be used for self-defense.”

“Oh come on,” Hal responded. “That’s fake news.”

“No, it’s not. It’s true,” Rosemary said. “Having a gun in the home is eleven times more likely to be used for attempted or successful suicides than for self-defense. It’s seven times more likely to be used in criminal assaults and homicides, and four times more likely in unintentional shooting deaths or injuries.”

“But we’d use the gun exclusively for self-defense,” Hal objected.

Rosemary sighed. “Did you know that, on average, nearly 5,000 children in the United States receive medical treatment in an emergency room each year for a gun-related injury? And about 21% of those injuries are unintentional. Almost 1,300 children die annually from a gun-related injury in this country.” (more)….

To read the rest of this excellent article go HERE.

Panegyric Poetry: Ode to Morrie

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Ode to Morrie

Oh you ball of energy, you little snarl of fluff.
When it comes to hugging you, I cannot get enough.
Your hair so black and curly, your teeth so sharp and white
that it is an honor when you choose to bite.

Your flair at ball retrieval truly has no equal.
However many thrown for you, you always seek a sequel.
Your eyes luminous marbles, your nails a lovely shape
from running over terraces to stem a squirrel’s escape.

Your hairy little jowls would put Borgnine’s to shame.
So many little mysteries for which you aren’t to blame.
What creature eats the birdseed spread out on the wall?
What other creature has your leap? What other dog the gall?

You give the cats their exercise and what possum would dare
to stray into a garden given to your care?
Oh brave little caroler when interloper passes,
Your mighty barks belie your size. No burglar tests your sasses.

At night you serenade me with your howling croon
accompaniment to ambulances or the rising moon.
My revered alarm clock, my companion after dark,
as now and then throughout the night I celebrate your bark.

Each day I laud thy energy, thy beauty and thy voice.
When I contemplate your dogginess, I cannot but rejoice!
This ode of praise I write for thee, I cannot help but pen it.
If there had been a dog messiah, my dear, you would have been it!

 

A Panegyric poem of praise for dVerse Poets

Chi Baba Blues

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Here is the earliest picture I have of me, probably at about 10 months.

 

The prompt from dVerse poets today was to write a poem incorporating the lyrics of a song that was popular on the day you were born. Well, although it isn’t a poem, here is a link to a post I wrote six years ago about the most popular song on the charts on July 3, 1947, the day I was born:

https://judydykstrabrown.com/2015/09/02/las-mananitas-and-other-less-lovely-bastardizations-of-a foreign-language/

And, to meet the qualifications of the prompt, here is a poem hastily pounded out today in response:

Chi Baba Blues

It must have been a silly year, the year that I was born,
with music even newborn babies might be driven to scorn.
The fact it was a lullaby, alas, could not atone
for that ugly music spewed out by the gramophone.
“Chi baba, chi baba chihuahua” were hardly words that lulled
and along with all the other lyrics, needed to be culled.
And though I have much gratitude that my mom chose to bear me,
when it comes to this lullaby, I’m glad she chose to spare me:

The #1 song in the U.S. on the day I was born was “Chi-Baba, Chi-Baba Chihuahua (My Bambino Go to Sleep) ” by Perry Como.  Although I would advise against it, you can hear it HERE. But after that, please go to the link at the beginning of this post and click on the link to see my rave about its trivialization of and confusion between the Spanish and Italian languages and to hear one of the most beautiful serenades in the Spanish language, imho.

My mom and me. 

 

Here is the link to the dVerse prompt: https://dversepoets.com/