4 posts tagged “silliness”
Forwarded from my friend Bill:
Last night my sister and I were sitting in the den and I said to her,
"I never want to live in a vegetative state, dependent on some machine
and fluids from a bottle to keep me alive. That would be no quality of
life at all. If that ever happens, just pull the plug."
So she got up, unplugged the computer, and threw out my wine.
She's such a bitch.
Who promptly suffocates under the weight of her name.
I'm reading The Letters of Noel Coward by Barry Day and finding myself inspired to compose verse. I'm sure Mr. Coward would be proud. The first selection, Ode to Meghan's Stomach, is an ode to my daughter Meghan's stomach. The inspiration for this piece comes from my daughter, Meghan, and her upset tummy. Meghan has two horses (Falcon and Shadow) and three spleens (not yet named). The spleen situation is a condition called polysplenia that can happen to people with PCD (see links at right).
WARNING: The following poems may be (or pretty much should be) offensive to anyone with good taste and serious literary sensibilities. You've been warned.
ODE TO MEGHAN’S STOMACH
“What’s wrong with Meghan’s stomach?”
Said the pony to the mare,
“Could it be the painful waistband
On her cotton underwear?”
“Or perhaps it’s just a symptom
Of bad habits she’s acquired
Like breakfasting at Starbucks
So she starts her days out wired.”
“And remember,” said the pony
“That she’s not like you and me.
We walk around with one spleen—
She walks around with three.”
“Could it be that the discomfort
Is a matter of no space,
For all those little splenules
And the stuff that they displace?”
“Or maybe,” said the mare
She’s been jostled to the max
By all our fancy stepping
When she’s riding on our backs?”
“I guess we better cool it
And tiptoe ‘round the ring
Until we know for certain
What’s causing this strange thing.”
“Or play at being sickly
Moan and role our eyes,
Hang our heads, limp around
Languish in our ties”
“Turn our nose up at our food
And turn down every treat
Until she’s gone away from here--
At which time we will eat.”
“I think that plan is brilliant!”
Said the pony to the mare,
She’ll certainly not ride on us
If she thinks that we’re impaired.”
“And then her painful stomach
Won’t be jostled to the max
By bouncing this and that way
While riding on our backs.”
This next selection, Waiting for My Presents, was written while I was waiting for my presents--to arrive from my dear friends Lynn, Ken and Mikey Ehrne in New York. Why, oh why does it take so long?....
Waiting For My
Presents
A ChrismaSurpaHannaday Poem by Michele Manion
Waiting for my presents
To come in a big box
From New York State
At parcel rate
Delivered to my block
And it would be quite grand
If UPS,
With much success,
Would put them in my hands
Waiting for my presents
And that's why I'm inspired
To write these rhymes
And pass the time
Until they've been acquired
Waiting for my presents
And wouldn't it be very
Appropriate
If I should get
A rhyming dictionary!
