Rhymes, Rants & Accolades from North Central BC

Archive for November, 2016


In 1949
my mother found a quarter
a twenty-five cent piece
made from real silver
in those days
It glinted
in the dust-draped foliage
bordering the dirt road
where she trekked
to pick up mail
purchase groceries
and makings
for the hand-rolled cigarettes
she and Dad both smoked
in those days

She secured the precious coin
inside her coat pocket
separate from the money
for essentials
Nothing much left for extras
in those days
On the way home, with a shopping bag
in each hand
she paused
to pull out the packet
of what she’d purchased
with her windfall
Dad would have his
but my mother indulged
in a genuine tailor-made

ON SMOKING (silly poem #33)

ON SMOKING (Before I quit)

An ounce of dried out leaves it lies
Wrapped in paper, ‘fore my eyes,
So small, so plain, so insignificant,
Most everything is more magnificent.

Would you spend good money daily
For a rose if it bloomed gaily?
Or would you dry it up like hay
And smoke it madly every day?

I’ve never seen tobacco growing,
But in my cigarette that’s glowing,
It’s part of life, like food and clothes,
But not so healthful, I suppose.

They say your lungs will rue the day
You started puffing in that way,
And then inhaling way down deep,
Until you crave them in your sleep

Begone from me – I need you not!
My heart you’ll ruin, my lungs you’ll rot!
This afternoon I’ll gladly quit,
But first I’ll sit and puff a bit.

CHRISTMAS RECIPES (silly poems #32)

1) Liver Pate, Liver Pate (Tune of Jingle Bells)
Jellied in a mold,
Add some onion,
Add some garlic, eat it while it’s cold!

Jellied liver pate,
With bay leaf and with broth,
Simmer for ten minutes,
Then strain it through a cloth!

Put it in a blender,
Add butter — don’t renege,
What fun it is to puree smooth
Your liver with an egg!

Dissolve some gelatin,
In half a cup of sherry,
The other half a cup,
Will make your Xmas merry (?)

Add hot broth to the rest,
Be sure to chill enough,
Pretty soon you’ll have to find
Some guests who’ll eat that stuff!

2) You’re dreaming of a roast turkey (Tune of White Christmas)
With oyster dressing on the side,
When tear drops glimmer as onions simmer,
You smell the oysters that are fried,

You’re dreaming of a roast turkey,
With every bread crumb that you break,
Add green pepper and some parsley flakes,
And may all your turkeys be baked!

3) Oh, your batter’s alright (Tune of Santa Claus is Coming to Town)
If batter is light,
Better not cheat, I’m telling you — beat,
Mrs. Claus is going to bake!

She’s checking her list,
And doubling it twice,
Gonna bake cakes with raisins and spice,
Mrs. Claus is going to bake!

She sifts flour, salt with soda,
Pours brandy from a vat,
Over candied fruit and walnuts,
Tastes so good — that’s why she’s fat!
Mrs. Claus is going to bake!

UNTITLED (silly poem #31)

Untitled Poem

Four lumps? I gasped as he loaded his coffee
I thought you only took two?
Sugar’s a killer
they say
not healthful at all.

Later I had
one chocolate bar
two pieces cake
three brownies
but no sugar
at all
in my coffee

MY FACE IS IN MY PURSE (silly poem #30)

(From when I sold Avon and was
caught with no makeup on.)

My face is in my purse
My face is in my purse
The face you see
Is not the real me
My face is in my purse

I’ve rouge and lipstick
Cover-up, eye-shadow and eyeliner
Foundation, powder and mascara
To paint a face that’s finer
If you wait
You’ll see
What’s REALLY me
The face that’s in my purse!

LIMERICKS (silly poems # 29)

There once was a man from New York
Who ate Chinese food with a fork
Chopsticks with the meal
Held gustatory appeal
So he ate them along with the pork!

A lady who moved to Vancouver
Had a face lift she hoped would improve ‘er
But one eye got raised up
‘Twhere an eyebrow’d been plucked
And her lips were misplaced by the movers!

Her family deserted poor Doris
Saying “Frankly her limericks bore us
She recites all her rhymes
At inopportune times
And sleeps with a Rogets Thesaurus!”

A logger whose name was Leon
Found an anthill as high as the ceilin’
He was taken inside
By an ant queen who cried,
“You’re not the ONLY civilized bein’”

AN INTERESTING AUSSIE (silly poem #28)


Contrary to all kanga rumour
Only Papa’s called a Boomer
He’s far away and roaming free
When Mama has her family

With bean-sized baby in her pouch
(I wonder if she murmured “ouch”)
She hops along the kanga trail
And misses not her kanga male

Her firstborn Joey’s by her side
Cause now he is too big to ride
And Baby’s buttoned to her vest
All safe within the mobile nest

When hungry Joey wants his meals
A soda fountain she reveals
The tiny siphon and another
A richer formula for brother

And Mother has another trick
The ultimate insurance bit
She has an embryo “on hold”
If babe at breast should die of cold

Confined in an arrested state
This almost baby does await
Unique among all nature’s laws
Called embryonic diapause

If all goes well and infant thrives
The embryo sometimes survives
And it is born and takes its place
To help increase the Kanga race

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