Rhymes, Rants & Accolades from North Central BC

Archive for April, 2022

Mr G and the Squirrel

Mr G strolled out on the lawn

In his heart there beat a sweet song

In his tree hung a feeder

Filled with succulent seed-fer

The birds that were flying around.

Some finches were perched in the tree

He could hear their wee chirps, “tweet’l dee”

But instead of a “thank’y”

Their chirps sounded cranky

“Filler up,” they growled, “we’re hungry,”

“I do hope those finches are wrong

The feeder’s ten feet from the ground

How come it is empty?

Last night there was plenty

Could tiny beaks have siphoned it gone?”

“‘Twas not us!” cried the finches

“Our stomachs shrank inches

‘Twas a big bird instead

With no beak on its head

Ate the food that he’d managed to pinch us!”

Mr G glanced up in the tree

A squirrel smiled back pensively

“A squirrel-proof feeder

Is all that we need here

You birds will be happy, you’ll see!”

The feeder was made out of tin

It had a trick device within

If a squirrel came to dally

It’s weight would not carry

The opening would shut with a din

But the squirrel was overweight

Which caused the device to break

Mr G was not happy

He felt kind of crappy

As he tightened up the mistake

A new bag of seeds he had bought

“It’s all good,” Mr G had thought

But again, the squirrel tripped

And the bird seed was nipped

It happened more often than not!

The winter birds came with the snow

And soon it was twenty below

Mr G learned too late

Squirrels do not hibernate

Repairing the feeder was a go!

The squirrel used aerodynamics

To bypass the feeders’ mechanics

He debarked downside up

When he slithered to sup

The birds suffered panic upset’rics

One day Mr G had a dream

A roof on it’s roof was the scheme

The first made of foil

Lasted one night of toil

The squirrel tore it up to smith’reens

Mr D looked out of his window

The birds were all his friends now

On top of the rig

Was a big plastic lid

The “Free Meals for Squirrels” s’been rescinded

Easter Monday

It’s a bare-naked kind of day

A change of wardrobe is in progress

The Silver Birch contemplates

What to wear on this day

Whether it should accept

The donning of the fluffy new snow

That’s once again wafting down

In the icy cold breeze

Or to wait for an afternoon

Of warm sunshine

To create a more exciting mode of dress

Crisp green leaves sprouting from the

Tree’s tendrils

The lime green leaves

Only seen in Spring

They envelope the entire tree

Creating a chiffon umbrella to

Shade the grasses below

The tree is dreaming

And so am I…

Closed Captioning

Closed Captioning’s upon TV

For senior couples’ harmony

Hard of hearing ears decline

At different rates and different times

“Put on your ears!” I scream at him.

“I cannot think above that din!”

And he in plaintive tones erupts

“The volume’s only halfway up!”

With hearing aides, he now is listening

To words that sound as if they’re whispering

My hearing aides I have installed

To watch my favorite show of all

British shows have women cops

That tell their male subordinates off

Vera drives the countryside

Finding villains, solving crimes

This evening we will watch Netflix

A show we’ve both found time to check

Closed captioning is on the screen

To fill us in on what has been

Our hearing aides no longer needed

All we have to do is read it!


My hearing aides upgradethe sound

The Cribbage War


And I see you

Have a few fives

And a face card too

I’ve passed the skunk line

And you are far behind

But your twenty-eight hand

Is a kick in the can

We are neck and neck

As we peg around the deck

I am in the last hole

When I get the final “go!”

(Sorry Dear, maybe you’ll win the next game)

There’s A Sweet Little Girl

There’s a sweet little girl

Somewhere in the world

Whom I miss with all of my heart

She’s now twenty-seven

And I wish to Heaven

We dwelt much closer apart

Impetuous and sassy

My darling lassie

Holds Gramma’s heart in her hands

When she was three

I asked her to pee

In her cute little pot on the floor

“I hate that thing,” she hollered at me

And left in a huff out the door

‘Twas my turn to tinkle

And quick as a wink-le

Little Sweetie returned on the run

She clapped and applauded

My efforts she lauded

For accomplishing what she had not done

One time I arrived when she was about five

Before leaving I took a few pictures

There was one I’d not taken

Still leaves my heart aching

On a torn paper towel it’d been written

The message on camera

Read, “I love you Gramma”

From that day on I was smitten.

April 7 poem

What’s an argument?

Were we having an argument?

Did that mean we were on opposite sides

of a fence? (an electric fence)

I said I believe in vacinnations.

He said “Bollocks” (He’s from England)

I said I didn’t like Trump.

He said Trump was worth more than

Any other card in the deck.

I said I liked Trudeau.

He said, the father, the son or

Or the whole Liberal party?

I said I don’t like steak and

Kidney pie ( especially the kidney part)

He said it was particularly good

With Worcestershire sauce

I said I was a vegetarian (I lied

Because he was warming

Up the roasting pan)

Were we having an argument

Or just a difference

Of opinion?

Poetry Month April 2022

Sunshine and Showers

April 1st.

The finches are back

Birds of Spring

Tiny winged bodies

Competing briskly

For morsels of seeds


In funky containers

Set up by humans for bird

Convenience and human


The winter birds have left

Mostly chickadees

More polite and sharing

Than the finches

So Canadian:

I almost heard their “please”

And “thank yous” as

They took turns at the feeder.

April 2nd

An early morning walk

Nice crisp morning

Ice on the puddles

Sun in the sky

April 3rd

It’s a “grey” day

No sunshine

Dark clouds in the sky

It is April

S’posed to be pretty

S’posed to be warm

But it’s a grey day

April 4th

Unto every life a little snow must fall

But soon the sun will surely shine

Northerners should voice a poignant call

To the gods to listen to us whine

We have shovelled and we’ve driven

Through six months of frigid weather

The snow must go so we can live in

A warmer world together

April 5th

Today is foggy, so’s my brain

A cold dark morn, it’s snowed again

I drink coffee, play a Scrabble game

No birds outside – I cannot blame

If they’ve returned from whence they came

At least down there, precipitation’s rain.

April 6 (in the morning)

There’s a brightness oozing

Between the louvres of

The Venetian blinds

In my kitchen

Sunshine is spreading

It’s golden aura

Of warm intimacy

Over the crusted mud

And old snow

Still layering the stubble

I open all the curtains

The view’s the same

Spring is here!

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