Monthly Archives: November 2013

A Thanksgiving Poem (Naughty)

This Thanksgiving we’re giving
A meet and greet dinner,
Where new friends and old
Come to get much un-thinner.

Some guests shamble in,
Having fasted for hours,
Bearing pot-lucky food
And some freshly bought flowers.

A few hours later
We’ve chatted our chat,
So the guests head for home,
And all that is that.

Thanksgiving was given,
And food has been eaten,
And old friends and new
Have farewelled and been greeten.

What more could I want?
I am so truly blessed.
Ooh looky, half off
That new Gucci vest!

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A Thanksgiving Poem (Nice)

I stubbed my toe
And broke my nail.
I tried a new sport
And I epically failed.
I hit on a girl
And was soundly rejected.
My movie was grainy,
And was poorly projected.

My stomach’s upset
From that beanie burrito,
And I’m scratching a bite
From an angry mosquito.
I’m too sickly to go
For a night on the town,
And to top it all off,
My house just burned down!

But in all of this anguish
I feel pretty neat,
‘Cause there are sports I can play
With my two healthy feet.
I speak freely to women
And also with men,
And I can watch the same movie
Again and again.

There’s so much food to eat
Even bugs get their fill,
And maybe I’ll build
My new house on a hill.
My life was disturbed
By these happenings fateful,
But life’s what you choose,
And I choose to be grateful.

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First Love Lasts Forever

I still remember the first girl I loved,
Though I will not say her name.
I was her seventh-grade knight in cargo pants.
She was my white-bloused seventh grade dame.

Today we’re friends, if only online,
But we seldom text or chat.
We write a note when birthdays come,
But rarely more than that.

Despite the distance and nonchalance
She’ll always have a place
In this man’d heart, and in my mind
I’ll always know her face.

The first love we know never goes away,
Invulnerable to time.
So make sure your kid in seventh grade
Never falls in love with a mime.

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Love on the Range

I once met a cowboy
Who went ba the name o’ Jed.
Had a cactus for a pilla,
And the prairie was ‘is bed.
He done met a lass he fancied,
Who went ba the name o’ Mary,
But he lost interest when
He couldn’t get her into prairie.

I wanted a home
where the buffalo roam,
And to wake at the rise of the sun.
Well I got like I wanted,
But my thoughts still are haunted
By my daddy waving ” Good Bison.”

There once was a matchmaker
Who lived in Dixie land.
Whenever folks got married,
In it, she had a hand.
Well you should hear what she said
When her own love did end:
“Good sir, you want to ride this horse,
But this horse just wants to be friends.”

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When life knocks you down
And no relief do you see,

When the joy you invite
Doesn’t RSVP,

When you’re proverbially fishing
But only catch kelps,

Just think about bacon.
I hope that this helps.

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How to heigh-Ho (A Derry-O)

I was born and raised a farmer,
And I know my job quite well,
But I’ve got some competition
From the farmer in the dell.

So I’ve got to take a gander at
What he’s got that I’m lacking.
He just heigh-hoed his derry-o,
So on that I should get cracking.

So how does one go about
The process of heigh-hoing?
I know some dwarves (Crap, I mean “little people!”) who do it
When off to work they’re going.

So if you’ve got ideas,
Please write and let me know.
You’ll help this needy farmer,
And you’ll help his derry-o.

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