He made a pie out of roses and snowflakes
Baked over a coal fire down by the lakes.
Pondering contrails,
And the genesis of whales.
Fortunately, he learnt from his mistakes.
© AHikingDude
She said "I don't give a schist."
He said "But I think it's really gneiss."
And then she in turn did say,
"Well Mister smart Alec it is just rocks to me."
He did stand and try to look aloof, but then she did say,
"Try some talc, or put some mica instead,
of where your brains should be."
With his bubble burst, he did curse,
And then he was in trouble,
For she plainly could see,
He was not really into Geology.
© tomWYO
The snow melting on the roof formed a row of long icicles along the eaves. Bill didn't let it bother him. He just ignored his wife when she suggested he knock them off. He forgot about it. But when he went outside the next morning to go to work, an icicle fell and landed point first into his head. When he was laid to rest in the local cemetary his headstone read......
Here lies poor Bill dead
Just as his wife had dread
Instead of peacefully in his bed
He died with an icicle in his head
© Sharon (Sunyskys43@aol.com)
Sophia Snowflake was forlorn,
As temperatures fell quickly.
There she rested on a front lawn,
Defluttered and feeling sickly.
“If only the sun would climb high,”
The prayer she was heard to mutter,
“Then the mist-filled air would dry,
And I could once more gain flutter.”
But, alas, it was not to be,
For the clouds gathered overhead.
Sophia shivered, grew soggy,
And crumbled, unfluttered, instead.
And above sat her sister Jane,
Clinging fast to the roof’s gutter.
Watching Sophie’s demise with pain,
She ignited her own flutter.
Then, riding adrift on the breeze,
Jane fluttered to her sister’s side,
Where she managed a final squeeze
Before her flaky sister died.
© RickMack
The whales and dolphins were practicing their golf swing
when along came Octavia Octopus, singing her little ditty.
“The whale and dolphin
Who are golfin’
Seldom make their par.
Clubs they’re gripping,
Flippers slipping.
Duffers are what they are.”
Finley Dolphin and Stanley Orca nodded at each other. Stanley said “Octavia, show me the proper grip.” Thus distracted, Octavia didn’t notice Finley swimming at her at full speed. As dolphins do, he rammed her with his snout. Octavia went flying, and landed on the green, two feet from the hole. Finley said “Hmm. Looks like a short putt for par.”
© AHikingDude
Cricket, Cricket, in the night
Hiding from my very sight,
Singing to your love so dear,
Driving me batty as I hear.
Cricket, Cricket, stop that noise/
Go outside and play with the boys.
Chirping, Chirping, ever so loud,
To a girl cricket you sing so proud.
Cricket, Cricket, silence your peep.
Let me get some needed sleep.
Go outside to sing your song.
Go outside where you belong.
Cricket, Cricket, I am hunting you down.
Ha! I caught you, now you will drown.
Or would you rather your maker meet,
being stepped on by my big feet.
© Sunyskys43
An emu who wears jewelry for a frill
Is an omen that gives free men a chill.
Soon, they’ll wear goggles,
Operate switches with toggles.
Be nary a difference between us there will.
© Paul (AHikingDude@aol.com)
 It was his first day as assistant chef at the Waldorf-Astoria's new dining room and he wanted to impress his employer. He was so nervous that he did not create a new recipe. Instead, he recreated the salad that his mother used to serve on special occasions:
“2 cups (2 med-large) diced unpared red apple
1 cup diced celery
1/3 cup chopped walnuts
2 heaping tablespoonfuls mayonnaise
1 teaspoon honey
dash lemon juice
Combine ingredients and chill to ice-cold. If desired, serve on lettuce and garnish with green grapes or maraschino cherries.”
He presented it as Astoria Salad. He had never graduated from the CIA, as he’d claimed, but he was a talented and creative chef. He didn’t realize why the head chef was laughing so uproariously.
© Paul (AHikingDude@aol.com)
 Love, they say, is a many-splendored thing.
There are bells on the hill, but I don’t hear them ring.
Love may be blind, but it’s not deaf and dumb.
And, so, my dear, I think perhaps the time has come.
I have washed your clothes, darned them too,
Cooked your food and nurtured you,
And I have worked my fingers to the bone,
But now this gal is moving on.
Your wife, lover, and friend I have been,
Bore your children, all ten of them,
Never had a party dress,
Nor have I been to Capitol Hill.
So I am leaving today I am,
And my attorney will be calling you,
I want the house, the car, the land,
But that old barn, you can have.
And when you are cold and sick,
Just think of what you did have.
So the time has come,
And I am gone.
© Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)
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