Letters to Santa from Politicians in
Dear Santa Clause, let’s make a deal,
An election goodie I’ll reveal,
Next year as you zip through the night,
Faster than a Westjet flight,
One gift to all will be from me,
‘Cause I will trim the G.S.T.
But only if you’ll stuff a rock,
In Paul Martin’s Christmas sock!
Signed: Stephen Harper
Dear Santa, I’ve been proved to be,
“Innocent” by Gomerey,
I knew not when, why or how much,
Cash by corrupt hands was touched,
Cretien was the big boss back then,
So please, please, let me try again!
I promise to be good for months–
Until the next “non-confidence”
Signed: Paul Martin
Dear Santa Clause, I’ll sing my tune,
‘Bout how to spend some money soon,
To help the homeless, addicts, sick,
As on our streets they sprawl and splick.
And birds will dance and bees will sing,
And Gays will wear a wedding ring,
Happy we’ll be forever after,
Please Santa, cease your raucous laughter!
Signed: Jack Layton
April 2. [Poetry Challenge Month} Prompts are: Seeing an old friend. [Virginia’s prompt]
I challenge you to write a poem that takes the form of a family portrait. You could write, for example, a stanza for each member of your family. [Napowrimo’s prompt]
Yes, Old Friend, I’ve lived a good life,
Two fertile farmers of whom I was “The Wife”
I bore three children and there were five more,
Transplants in my garden – blessings galore!
My cute little Bee and my Buttercup,
Were joined by their brother, a curious Pup,
The first three arrived when I was quite young,
But marriages don’t last for everyone…
Husband number two had five of his own,
I loved them like mine when they became grown,
The two older girls, a Peach and a Pear,
And the littlest child – a Strawberry fair.
The boys in the middle were Flint and Feather,
Outdoors in the bush in all kinds of weather,
Then much later, in nineteen-seventy four,
A wee flowering Fern appeared at the door.
So now Old Friend, I would like to know,
How many children does your garden grow?
Life and Death
First I was an embryo
One big eye and a tail
Blinking my eye and wiggling my tail
Soaking up nourishment
From the uterine floor
Gradually I develop a shape
And a sense of self
I can feel. I can move. I can hear
Sounds, comforting and familiar
Then one day
My world begins to quiver
Slowly, then faster and faster
Wave after wave of embryonic fluid
Surges against the walls
Powerful forces propel me
Toward the termination
Of life as I’ve known it
My body is wracked with pain
As I squeeze through
A narrow opening
Into a strange and wondrous new world
Where I dwell
For more than three
Score years and ten
And then it happens again
SIMILARITIES BETWEEN ESTRANGED WIVES
(Both Margaret Trudeau & Princess Margaret had
Wife-hood doesn’t always set
With gals who’re christened Margaret
If a Margaret shares your Chargex
Your marriage may become letharg-ex!
Elizabeths have sometimes tarried
With the men they later married
Their marriages are doomed to failure
(Especially if they’re last name’s ‘Taylor’)
In ancient Egypt, Cleopatra
Loved Caesar, Anthony, etc-a-tra
Her lovers died and so did she
In unrequited misery!
It seems to me that gals whose names
Are longest fail the mating games
Anns and Marys have less strife
While Eve was Adam’s only wife.
All the Margarets at large
Should insist on simply “Marge”
And gals who’re called Elizabeth
Should use the shortened form of “Beth.”
Perhaps the Cleos out in Egypt
Abbreviated, would not be gypped
Out of lifelong wedded bliss…
Unless of course, they’d rather miss!
Yes, I remember your wedding
In 1976, you say it was?
Second marriage for you both
No need for a reception.
But in those days
With cases of beer, a jug of wine
Guitars, banjos and a fiddle
Old time music in your
Eight by 40 trailer
Before you put on that addition
The phone rang the next morning
A woman’s voice, thin, querulous,
Scratchy from cigarettes
She’d been accused of unseemly behaviour.
“Did I make a play for your husband?”
She asked timorously.
“Oh yes- you were all over him,” I replied.
“What! Oh no!”
“You tripped over his big feet
When he was playing his guitar”
Oh yes, that was a good party.
Back in 1976…
TRAILER PARK BLUES (1970S)
The sewers plugged, they said to me
It’s causing some disharmony
The trailers at this end and down
Are “flushing” mostly on the ground
Be prepared, quite soon, to move
The backhoe has to dig a groove
Although your plumbing’s doing fine
There’s “dirty water” down the line!
They yanked my trailer and they tugged
It finally budged from snow and mud!
On the road it sat that day
And there, I thought, we’d have to stay!
That night when it was getting dark
They found a spot for us to park
We slept that night before we knew
Of our new “panoramic” view!
The trailer court is on a hill
Man-made from many tons of fill
Our kitchen rested in its place
Our bedrooms hung way out in space!
The baffle, loosened from the tow
Unknown to us had slipped below
For one whole day our furnace ran
Before it “frazzled” up its fan
Our home was mobilized once more
To a space that fits our floor
The sundeck that I built last Fall
Is yours – if you can find it all!
Our skirting will no longer fit
Our water freezes where we sit
And lately I have seen a sign
Of “dirty water” down the line!!
Christmas Bus Trip [1970s]
Alarm clock bells, alarm clock bells,
We must be on our way
Oh what sense is it to ride,
A Greyhound bus today!
Waiting in the snow,
For a crowded Greyhound bus,
Today the bus is slow,
‘Cause it’s the Christmas rush!
Cars on highways slide,
Headlights shining bright,
What a drag to rise and ride
A Greyhound bus to-night!
Verses 1-7 Refer to eighth verse.
Verse 8: On the eighth day of Christmas
My true love met with me
Eight aunts and uncles!
Seven sister’s siblings!
Six kissing cousins!
Five adult offspring!
Four grandkids growing!
Two brand new babies!
And in every house a
I wish that I could hibernate
And pass up winter’s frozen state
I think that I would have the weight
From Xmas goodies that I ate.
It would be nice to sleep in late
And waken at a warmer date
When all the land is green again
I would wake up and I’d be thin!
SCRIBBLERS PROJECT: Use the word serendipity in a poem.
“What rhymes with ‘serendipity,’ I ask my husband?
“Stupidity,” he replies, not looking up from his crossword puzzle.
“That doesn’t rhyme properly,” I retort. “It doesn’t have enough syllables.
“I need to compose something for our Scribbler’s project,” I explain. “Perhaps a poem or maybe even a song.
“What was that song Julie Andrews and Dick Van Dyke sang in the Mary Poppins’ movie? You know the one. It was a word… Sounded a bit like serendipity?”
“Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,” he mutters, obviously not that interested.
“No, not that one… Now I remember! “It was chim-chiminey-chim-chiminey-chim-chim-cheroo….I think I can substitute the word “serendipity” into the lyrics.
Seren-dip-ity, seren-dip-ity, seren-dip-ity, seren- doo,
There’s snow on the ground and I’m feeling blue
Seren-dip-ity, seren-dip-ity, seren-dip-ty, seren-doo
I’m yearning for Spring and I’m sure you are too!
Why is the lemming sometimes idle
While other times he’s suicidal?
Is he really that depressed
As he heads east, or south, or west?
Swimming with no hesitation
To a watery destination.
Does he die a planned statistic
Or is he just too optimistic?