My family is here for the weekend.
My inspiration is not.
This poem has as much though into it
As people who name their dog “Spot.”
*Maybe
Tag Archives: Family
Morning At The Vineyard
It’s morning at the vineyard
And the weather’s looking fine!
We sing hurrah and pick syrah
By bunches off the vine.
There’s Malbec for our jelly
And cabernet for wine,
Filling bucket after bucket
With pickers numbering nine.
My girl may have partaken
Of a bottle from last year.
The leaves stay green and limber
Though its fruit will disappear.
With truck beds full and spirits high
We loose a mirthful cheer!
Now we’re on the highway home
With the pickers we hold dear.
Tomorrow we’ll de-stem the lot
And barrel it to wait
Until next year’s excursion
Or ‘til 2028.
It’s a family tradition
So we all participate,
Bottling mornings in the vineyard,
Packing memories by the crate.
Filed under Poems
Notice I Didn’t Mention Her Age 😋
Happy Birthday Mother!
You gave birth like no other
Yo me and my sis,
So you I will kiss
And otherwise shamelessly smother!
Filed under Poems
For A Very Tolerant Mother On This Auspicious Day
My mommy was a mother
Since before I was a brother
To my sister, and she kissed her
And tucked her into bed.
Then my mommy had another
(That was me), and then no other;
She was done, and though now I’m fun
Back then we cried ‘til fed.
And feed us well my mother did,
Both me and that darn other kid,
And I’ve attested she never rested
‘Til we kids were satisfied.
Then we got bigger and less cute;
One could walk and one could scoot,
After baby-proofing and pillow floofing
She probably wanted to hide.
Alas, we found her hiding places
And made her wipe our snotty faces.
She loved us still, despite the thrill
Having long since departed.
And then we started going to school,
Which meant less time mopping our drool.
With phlegmless floors she still did chores
As we laughed and said “I farted.”
And even when my sister was bad
(I never was, just ask our dad)
With grace and calm she’d slap her palm
Anywhere but on our faces.
When we got big and pubescent
She gave us the finest present
Like love and stuff, always enough
Yet gave us private spaces.
And oh the years of meals she cooked,
Though overworked and overlooked!
Oh the the years and sweat and tears
Endured by her for us! She
Will be remembered evermore,
For all of this, but even more:
She inspired my art. She’s old, but not a fart.
I end this poem thusly.
Filed under Poems
Together Or Apart, The Heart Still Desires
Even if the submarine is yellow
It’s hidden still, deep below the light.
Its crew works around the clock
So it’s bright all morning, noon, and night.
So even though it never feels like evening
The submariners must long for the sun,
Which they’ll be apart from, underwater
Until they’re told the mission’s finally done.
So it is to be apart from loved ones,
Trapped by distance out of your control,
Like a bird migrating by its lonesome
Or a puzzle one piece short of whole.
If you feel longing, I wish you peace;
If your family is making you consider a career in the submarine corps because they just won’t stop, I hope they cease.
Filed under Poems
TV Breakfasts
Mom and Dad both work all day
But when the morning breaks
You should see the breakfast
That Mama somehow makes:
A hundred stacks of pancakes,
Bacon, toast, and jam,
Four glasses of fresh orange juice
And a massive honey ham,
And upon this wondrous bounty
Cometh the kids and Dad
They grab a strawberry and run
And Mom’s not even mad…
Filed under Poems
Conversation Openers
My wife starts conversations
By saying, “Hey there honey!”
My son starts conversations
By saying, “I need money.”
But no one beats my daughter
Who starts to talk to me
With, “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said!
“I hate you! OMG!”
Filed under Poems
Bless Me Son, For I Done Sinned
A while ago I wrote a poem
About how to be your own son.
Recently, through Jesus,
I wrote another one:
If you are a grandfather
Of your son’s male offspring
I’m happy to report that you
Can do an exciting thing…
If your son joins the clergy
As a Presbyterian
And you go to his church
Your grandkid is your Father’s son.
Filed under Poems
Infinity
I was an ordinary guy
Who married a single mom.
My new wife had an adult son…
I chose to call him Tom.
I was the product of a household
If a single mom as well
And it just so happened that my mom
Was my son Tom’s new belle.
Mom and Tom got married
And things got really fun
‘Cause a man who’s now my uncle
Is also my stepson.
Also interesting,
And nearly twice as bad,
Is that my stepson/uncle
Is also now my dad.
So if my son’s my father
Then I really have become
My own father as well
Since I’m my father’s father’s son.
Thus I am at once myself
And someone unrelated.
One of me is weirded out;
The other is elated.
Did You Read The New Twilight Spinoff?
I’m proud to be half-centaur
And so are my sister and brother.
We have human legs
And a centaur’s torso
And a very satisfied mother.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 