Thursday, December 17, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
It was really such a pity
That the storks all laughed at Sue,
For while they stood on one leg,
She Stork had to stand on two.
She found it hard to balance
With one foot off the ground,
And all of her relations
Used to come and gather round.
They did their best to help her,
But it wasn’t any use,
Instead of standing stroklike,
She just felt a silly goose!
She worried so about it
That she started to get thin,
Then one day pricked her foot
Upon a hidden, rusty pin.
She couldn’t put her foot down
As it gave her such a pain,
So she hopped around on crutches
Till her foot was well again.
But as she wound got better
And the pain not quite as bad,
She found that she could balance
From the practise she had had.
The storks no longer laugh now
As they look at little Sue,
For she stands there on one leg,
Just like the others do
Christmas Poem
Standing in front of the Eiffel Tower at the Paris Hotel in Las Vegas, my daughter asked me to help her write a poem on the subject "What I don't want for Christmas." I was not comfortable with a theme of rejection for such a special occasion, but the circumstance of her in front of the tower in a red beret, plus my family's interest in cooking, inspired this poem. With apologies to the French, this is what a young American teen might think about suddenly going to France for Christmas dinner.
What I Don't Want For Christmas
© Jim Beasley
Always at this time of year,
We share the same old Christmas cheer.
But this year, my parents tried something new
With an official seal from the Cordon Bleu.
We skipped the usual dinner dance
And my parents took us all to France.
This year, my father changed his name to Gerard.
He wore a chef’s hat on our Christmas card.
Our tree looked like the Eiffel Tower
While we waited for the dinner hour.
As the children drank their Shock-O-Lots,
Adults sipped fine wine, like some big shots.
Joyeux Noel my mother said
In a red beret as she made French bread.
With all the cheeses, truffles, and pates,
It looked like they had cooked for days.
Foods I had never seen before
Came from the local grocery store.
A croaking sound came from the kitchen.
Don’t worry, said Gerard, they’ll taste like chicken.
When he saw how I was confused
He shook his head and looked amused.
You’ll enjoy what we’re having here.
But his assurance didn’t calm my fear.
Instead of chestnuts and mistletoe,
Chef Gerard made escargot.
Resting in their garlic shells,
They’re known at home as garden snails.
And there was a large pot they called ragout
That I learned too late was rabbit stew.
As special as this Christmas went,
It’s not like others had been spent.
I missed my turkey and my ham,
Gravy, stuffing, and candied yams.
I don’t want frogs’ legs any more.
I want Christmas like before.
Mom, dad, I wish you would take back your given names.
Next year, let’s stay home and play the usual reindeer games.
And also, I hope you both will put those hats away.
At Christmas-time at least, I’d rather not parle Francais.
Source: What I Don't Want For Christmas, Christmas Poems http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/holiday/poetry.asp?poem=22894#ixzz0Zs8FEvHW
Run Away Snowball Christmas Poem
Someone in the sky last night
Had an awful snowball fight,
And when I woke today I found
All the snowflakes on the ground.
I made myself a snowball
As perfect as could be
I thought I'd keep it as a pet
And let it sleep with me.
I made it some pajamas
And a pillow for it's head,
Then last night it ran away,
But first * *
It wet my bed.
Little snow flakes so soft and white,
Falling silently during the night.
Glistening in the sun today,
Makes us want to come out and play.
We'll build a snowman, or maybe two.
Which wouldn't be possible, without you.
Pretty soon though, you will melt
But we'll always remember just how we felt,
The day the snow came tumbling down,
And covered every street in town.
Christmas poem, run away snowball author unknown.