Pregnancy is Magical

I have felt queasy,
And nauseous and gross,
Since the end of July
Tired, morose.

I'm getting desperate,
Tired of shaking,
Cramping, and chills,
Dark AM waking.

I don't want to resort,
To drugs and some pills,
To deal with my sickness,
My shaking and chills.

Today I tried accupuncture,
Hoped it would assist,
And help the barfy feeling,
Cease and desist.

I got some advice,
And I was treated,
Now I drink ginger tea
And all my food heated.

We'll see how things go,
I'm not quite ready to whoop,
I will feel much improved,
When I can finally poop.

Pictoral Accompaniment

WTF Neighbours?
It is barely November.
Wait For December!

Minimal effort haiku

Two busy boys plus
Pregnancy insomnia
Equals exhaustion.

Hillbilly Tooth

Had a tooth, turning black
Looked like a hillbilly
Wanted a cosmetic filling,
Nothing big or frilly.

The tooth, it has a root canal
Done many years ago,
The decay runs deeper than they thought,
That filling has to go.

What should have been short and sweet,
Has turned into an ordeal.
Post and crown and maybe more,
Really not ideal.

And so I will be back again,
For freezing and more drilling,
I am so looking forward to it.
It sounds super thrilling.

NaPoWriMo!

Hello my dusty little blog,
Welcome to November
I will write a poem a day
(as long as I remember)
They may not be so eloquent,
Or written with much care,
But hey, at least there will be something,
Published here or there.
We will ring in NaPoWriMo,
With this silly little ditty,
And hope the rest of this month's effort.
Aren't quite so shitty.

Exercise is bad for you

As my legs turn to muscle,
My mind turns to mush.
I forgot how to write poems,
But I have a hard tush. 
An acceptable trade-off?
My body looks hot,
But my poem-writing skills
Appear to be shot.

Spring!

Days so warm, so bright and sunny,
No time to write stuff that is funny.

Growl

Super crabby,
Kinda stabby,
Gotta love PMS.
Want to punch things,
Instead I munch things,
Chocolate in excess.

Sunshine

Lovely sunny day
Could it finally be spring!?
High of twenty-one

Another poor effort.

Poor little blog, so neglected.
Sits here feeling so dejected.
Author busy, has no time,
To craft a quick amusing rhyme.
Kid has been sick, rash and fever,
I cut my finger with a cleaver.
Ok, the cleaver part is fake.
I also had no time to bake.
I keep saying "I want to write!"
And so you get this crap tonight.

It was next to the register...

Somewhat impulse buy
Fully loaded Durango
Most people choose gum.

Karma

A friend told me about another "friend" who got slapped by karma.  This is for my friend.

I will admit,
I laughed when I heard
About your misfortune,
You wee little turd.

I suppose I should show,
A little compassion,
Some sympathy, empathy,
Something of that fashion.

But you treat me like garbage.
Heap on abuse,
And think you can treat me,
However you choose.

Your actions have consequences,
And karma's a bitch.
And so here I snigger,
At your life's little glitch.

Sadly, I do know,
That my inappropriate glee,
Will result in said karma
Bitch-slapping me.

But for now it is worth it.
I'll give a chuckle hearty,
And continue on,
With my smug little party.

Happy Birthday, Damon.

Today was the birthday
Of my wee son,
His very first birthday,
Indeed, he turned one.

The year went so quickly,
Zoomed by so fast,
My tiny small babe
Exists in the past.

I feel like I missed
His babyhood brief,
Just trying to function,
Dealing with grief.

The months and the days
How they have flown,
A bittersweet smile,
For this happy milestone. 

Not an excuse

Life has been stressful
Life has been busy
Some family drama,
Relative in a tizzy.

Road trip from hell,
Through rain, night and snow,
Exhausted my spirit,
Made me feel low.

Sorting through my
Deceased relative's junk.
Has left me depressed
Trapped in a funk.

Purging my house,
Throwing out clutter,
Cleaning and sorting,
With the help of my mother.

All the above saps
My poetic motivation.
Stressed out and run down,
With no concentration.

I pray for serenity,
Exercise assists,
One thing at a time,
I cross off my lists.

Now I can sleep,Since I sat down and wrote,
Some time to myself,
I can devote.

Yes, this is it.

Haircut Day!
Ran five K!
Fist pump, high five!
Shout hooray!

Life has been stressful and busy.  I will try a better effort tomorrow.

Need another solution

I decided to fix the problem written about here.

I had a notepad
And pen on bedside table
Stolen by small boy

Before the Chaos

All the boys are upstairs
Snuggled in their beds,
Perhaps dreams of truck and cars,
Swirling in their heads.
I'm downstairs, all alone.
With a coffee, brewed intense.
Sun-dappled curtains are my view.
I'm savouring the silence.

Productivity Approaching Zero.

I have a new iPhone,
It's black and shiny.
I didn't want one.
I was a bit whiny.

We had blackberrys,
I loved BBM
And my keyboard with buttons,
Easy to press them.

Now to this small screen,
I'm stuck like cement.
How addicting it is,
Much to my embarrassment.

I can Draw Something!
Play Words With Friends!
Facebook, the weather,
See new Twitter trends!

I'm tracking my diet,
(Female stuff, too).
Oh, is there anything
This great iPhone won't do?

Although I protested,
Would I want one?  I doubt it.
Now it seems that
I can't be without it.

Firsts (Haikus)

First day of preschool.
It was hard on both of us
I think I cried more.

Left Bubs in childcare
He was completely okay
I was more stressed out

Restarted running
Yes, again! Did laps of track.
Felt good afterwards.

Productive

My house is a disaster,
It's so full of clutter,
I have developed a twitch
And am starting to mutter.

I have made a large plan,
Of how to attack,
This disgusting mess,
To get my space back.

I created a schedule,
For getting things clean,
So I don't get overwhelmed,
By the amount obscene.

Because I am cleaning,
And parenting two boys,
I don't have much time,
For playing with toys.

My shiny bright laptop,
Stays closed most of the time,
Which does not give me a chance,
To come up with a rhyme.

I still think it's important,
To create and to write,
So I will try to post,
Before bedtime each night. 

iPhone

Have my first iPhone
Learning all the apps is fun
Super time sucker.

Again and again and again

I have an awful habit,
For this I am sorry,
Of telling over and over again,
The same old boring story.

It may be of interest to me,
Or a funny definition,
But I am sure it is annoying
On the one hundredth repetition.

I try my best not to echo
Myself again, and yet-
My memory is not the best,
And I often forget.

I have to apologize,
I have the inclination,
To repeat my little anecdotes,
Much to other's frustration.

Weightloss haiku.

Been tracking my food
Today I hit ten pounds lost
A lovely milestone.

Posting for the sake of posting.

I said I would try to write every day.  I wrote today, and thought they both sucked, but since I haven't come up with anything better, here they are.  I was pretty bummed out today, which is why they look like teenaged angst.  Sorry.

Effort #1
How can the heart,
Be so sad,
Over something imagined,
But never had?

Effort #2
Why do I persist
When I know in my brain,
In reading things,
That cause me pain?

They hurt my heart,
They hurt my head,
What has been seen,
Can't be unread.

I guess that second poem really applies to today's entry.  I said sorry. 

Yeah, that was me.

I read a site,
(well, I read a few)
This one tells some parents,
To S T F U.

I admit that I worry,
I don't want to find,
My inane Facebook updates,
With comments unkind.

I try my best not to post,
Things that might make you sick,
Like vomit, blood, poop,
Or a genital pic.

I try to be funny,
Stay on the light side,
Give an upbeat impression,
And not be cranky or snide.

I ended up on the site!
But not for being crass,
I'm just in the thread,
A sarcastic smartass.

Still, I will strive,
Try to keep my clue,
So I won't need to be told:
Hey, S T F U.

Twitter

Checked out the twitter
So, just like Facebook status?
With less characters.

Curse you, Bulk Barn!

I did not shout or wave my fist around at all.  It's called poetic license.

First time at Bulk Barn
Bin upon bin
Let's check out
what's within

I don't need that.
Or that or this.
This weird stuff,
I'll give a miss.

I have a coupon,
Three dollars off,
If I spend ten dollars.
No way, I scoff.

Oh, I'll get some of this,
And that looks neat,
The two year old
Gets a special treat.

Ok, that's good.
I'll go check out.
Forty dollars!?
No way! I shout.

Bulk barn, you win.
I wave my fist.
But next time I come,
I come with a list. 

Second Cup Green Tea Latte.

Green tea latte
In my cup so creamy,
Like custard in a mug
You taste so dreamy.

I wish I could drink you
Every single AM
But I can't, there's problems,
Here, I will say them:

First of all, latte,
You cost dollars four,
If I drank you every day,
I would be much more poor.

All of your calories,
They would make me fatter,
"Oh well," I hear you say
"That just wouldn't matter!"

You devious drink,
It matters to me.
And so I will tell you,
How it is going to be.

An occasional treat,
Is my conviction.
Once every few weeks,
I'll indulge my addiction.

Early Saturday Spin

Alarm set for six
Less than eight hours from right now
Better get to bed.

Perceptions

Two faces of a coin,
Each see a different view,
Things that look correct to me,
May seem wrong to you.

Fact or opinion?
Honesty or deception?
How much is real,
And how much perception?

What I believe is truth,
You see as a lie.
Because we stand back-to-back,
We can't see eye-to-eye.

The Third Weds of Every Month Stinks.

Husband late meeting
Single parenting bedtime
Phew! Both are asleep.

Plagiarism.

I recently discovered that several people have plagiarized my Ode to my Keurig on a contest page to win a House Party and the new Keurig Vue.  I would have entered my poem myself, if I were eligible.  Canadians are not.  Anyway, here is what I think of plagiarism and jackasses who steal my stuff.

So you want to win a Keurig,
But you don't know how to rhyme,
And you know how to google, 
So why not save some time?

You figure you will steal my stuff,
Why not plagiarize?
Well, you lazy sack of crap.
Here is your surprise.

I read my stats, I found you out,
Your cheating is reported.
So in your quest to lie to win,
I guess you have been thwarted.

Anyone can copy/paste,
As long as you have the parts,
But to come up with something of your own,
Ah, that takes some smarts. 

To plagiarize, to steal, to cheat,
Is comtemptible at best.
You and your wee tiny brain,
I thoroughly detest.

My Simple Wish

My wish is not for a castle,
Perched on cliffs above the sea,
Or for a vine wrapped cottage,
Oh so quaint and twee.
I do not need a mansion,
Be it grand and palatial,
Or a remote country estate,
With fields so green and spacial.
I do not wish for hoards of gold,
Or diamonds, sparkling bright,
Navy sapphires, or black onyx
That gleams as dark as night.
I do not need gleaming opals,
Or rubies, deep cerise.
All I want is the kids to can it,
So I can poop in peace.

I still have the plague.

Head so dizzy
Body weak
Cough so phlegmy
Hard to speak.

Voice is raspy,
Throat is sore,
Just getting up
Is quite the chore.

Brain is tired,
Hard to write,
And on that note,
I'll say good night.

Frog in Throat

You'd think something that took me all day to write would be better.  This possible cold is making my head hurt.

Croaky voice
And throat so ouchy
I want to curl up
On my couchy.

I would like to make
A blanket nest,
And sleep all day,
A lovely rest.

My children hear this
And guffaw.
They have no sympathy
For their Ma.

Instead, I'll pretend
This is fun:
I'll go outside
And do a run.

Kids in stroller,
Makes it tough.
Still, I am trying
Huff huff puff puff.

Now I am coughing,
Head's feeling light.
Perhaps I'll just walk,
That feels alright.

Looking forward to bedtime,
My cozy duvet,
Hope I feel better tomorrow
Than I did today.

Want Bed.

Trying to get into, and stay in, the habit of writing/posting something every day.  Even if it is just a crappy haiku.

Brain is so fuzzy
I swam forty laps today
Two thousand meters.

Fiction

I don't have a job, or a bearded boss.  This is fiction.  I was bored and asked a friend for a word to write about.  It was "boss". 

My boss is tall
And thinks he's smart
He has a beard
And likes to fart.

He thinks I'm dumb,
This I can attest.
He thinks I don't notice
His eyes on my chest.

I'm more than a butt,
I do have a brain,
I can't stand this job,
It's quite inhumane. 

When I get a new job,
And my references have cleared,
I'll punch that smug bastard
Right in the beard. 

Starting again

Hey, I ran today!
Not very long, with stroller
But it is a start.

Cut it out.

MLM scammy scam
Makes me quite annoyed
When I can, I do my best,
Those products I avoid.

But then I have some people,
Who think I should buy their stuff.
I am telling you, here and now:
I have had enough.

I do not want your product.
I don't want to hear your spiel
Go find some more naive fish
To bring in on your reel.

I do not want to be a host.
I certainly won't sell it.
I am not sure just how much more
Clearly I can tell it.

Stop pushing your stupid crap
Repeatedly at my face.
I do not want it, ever.
And here, just in case:

STOP.
just..
STOP.

My breakfast. MINE.

Maple syrup, butter melting
Into golden squares
Crispy golden waffles tasty.
Thank you, I won't share.

Juicy sausage, crispy bacon,
Two yummies made of pork.
Keep your hands off of my plate,
Or I will stab you with my fork.

Perhaps I need another coffee,
Dark roast tastes oh so good.
Or perhaps you should get your own,
Back off from my food.

Excuses.

March 8th would have been my Dad's 61st birthday.  I wanted to write something, but my baby got the stomach flu.  Today, he alternately slept or was clingy, while my 2.5 year old was hyper and tantrumy, apparently feeling a little neglected as I snuggled his sick brother.  So all I have is this sorry excuse for a haiku:

Thursday, March the eighth
Dad would have been sixty-one
A very sad day.

I will endeavor to write something better tomorrow.

Why I should keep a notepad beside my bed.

Drifting to sleep,
Cozy in my bed,
The most perfect of rhymes,
Inside of my head.

The verses melodic,
Stanzas so witty,
A poem so touching,
Funny or gritty.

I repeat it a few times,
To deeply engrain,
It into my memory
Etched in my brain.

But when morning comes,
The lightening dawn,
My poetic perfection,
Sadly, is gone.

Minimal Effort.

Hey
I am
writing
this
poem
in
free verse.
Is
this
not
totally
pretentious?
At
least
I
don't
have
to
come up with
rhymes.
I'm
pretty
tired.
Insert
profound
statement
here.
Pomegranate.

Solitary Confinement

My walls, they are thick
My mask is in place,
A smiling and confident
Happy-type face.

My windows are shuttered,
Nothing can get in
Pay no attention
To behind my grin.

Inside I am scared,
Insecure, uncertain.
A seethe of anxiety,
Behind the curtain.

Someone assured is
A manner I'll affect
My vulnerable self
I must protect.

No one can know
How in myself I doubt,
I'll keep myself in,
And I'll keep you out.

Fortified defenses
Is all I have known,
But they keep me safe.
Safe...and alone.

February Statuses, Week Four + March 1st

Once again, I have deleted a name.  It was 3 syllables this time.


Feb 22nd
Shopped before coffee
Managed to stick to the list
Hooray! Free K-cups!

Wish all customers
Had read a copy of this
When I worked Helpdesk.
Link to Cracked article

Cell phone camera
Randomly started working
See Bubs' dirty shirt.

  
Feb 23rd
Every stinkin' day
I tell Facebook "Most Recent"
Screw your Top Stories!

Surprise for Grandma
Turns out Damon can climb stairs.
News to everyone!

Feb 24th
[Deleted] birthday!
Hope she has a happy day
Love, seestar, John, Bubs.

Feb 25th
Alarm so early
Saturday is spin class day
Please work soon, coffee

Hardest spin ever
Body feels like a noodle
Mmm green tea latte.

Feb 26th
BFF birthday!
Hope it is the best one ever!
Celebrate with wine!

Outside with the boys
John sure loves to go sledding!
Forgot camera.

Feb 27th
Only two more days
I can express myself with
ALL the syllables!

Damon loves Mater
Better get your hugs in quick.
Mater is John's toy.

Feb 28th
Hand-me-down jammies
John wants to wear them all day
Have McQueen on them.

Feb 29th
Two stir-crazy boys
Going to indoor playground
You want to join us?

Last day for haikus
If you want one just for you
Better speak up now.

Too many haikus
For single status update
Click on link below.
The link went to a Facebook note, where I had posted all the haikus.  They all have names, though, so I won't post them here.  I had a request for a summary of Haiku Month:

Haiku month over
Interesting, challenging
Mostly glad it's done. 

  
And here is a bonus:
March 1st
Welcome to March! No more haikus.
But you can write one of your own if you choose,
Try to say what you mean,
In syllables seventeen,
And you can name me as your muse.

Week One
Week Two
Week Three

Tantrums Today.

Some days I want wine,
Some days I want beer,
Some days champagne,
A glass lifted in cheer.

Some days I want Bailey's
Or Kahlua in milk,
Or a nice Cuban rum
Or something of that ilk.

I love a tequila,
Añejo and gold
A sunrise, a margarita,
Or a shot if I'm bold.

A nice Irish whiskey
Could spike up my java,
And burn on the way down,
Like delicious lava.

But I've responsibilities,
This I can not refute.
Not to mention a tolerance,
That's extra minute.

Once the kids are in bed,
I can partake, see,
A half-glass of wine,
Will intoxicate me.

February Statuses, Week Three

 I have deleted a name, as I try not to publish anyone's name, unless they are a part of my immediate family (husband, and two sons).  You will have to take my word for it that it is a two syllable name.

Feb 15th
House full of fuzzy
Only one crib, two babies,
Consecutive naps!

Feb 16th
I'm sore all over,
Many muscles muttering
Tough, great swim today.

Feb 17th
Bubs is the coolest
Harley Davidson shirt and
No pants. So stylin'!

John was too quiet
Went to see what he's doing
Hand in the butter.

I'm eating a pear
Hard to quietly enjoy
With two small mooches.

Feb 18th
Thank you, my husband
For watching 5 small children
So we could go spin.

I will take that, please.
Seriously, give it here!
Bubs' camera now.











  

Feb 19th
It's [deleted] Birthday!
Everybody celebrate!
Mochas and push-ups!

Feb 20th
Nine more days to go,
Then you won't have to look at
Any more haikus.

Out of sorts baby
Refuses to fall asleep
So overtired.

Feb 21st
Bubs attempts bear crawl
Instead of trying to walk
Try growing some teeth!

Ten months yesterday,
I swear that Bubs was just born.
Wow, time is flying.

Pancakes for dinner
Damon and John both approved.
Happy Mardi Gras!

Week Two
Week One

February Statuses, Week Two

Feb 8th
Breakfast tragedy
I cut the toast the wrong shape.
Triangles, not squares.

OK Go Song Stuck
In my head, infinite loop
When the morning comes...

Feb 9th
Out of house all day
I did miss you, internet
Did you miss me much?

Feb 10th
Quart jar of coffee
You are so delicious
Might need a gallon

Stupid garbage trucks
No Parking sign now missing
From beside garage.

Discovered how to
Distract Damon from laptop
Animal Crackers

Feb 11th
Yay insomnia
Finally got Bubs to sleep
Can't turn off my brain.
This one was published at 4:20 AM

Spin class will be fun
Two and a half hours of sleep
Some dark roast might help?

Challenging spin class
Singing helps to pass the time
Warren's not a fan

Feb 12th
Three cute bedhead boys
Clustered around the table
Peach pancakes breakfast

Movie night with Dan
Some nineties nostalgia
Empire Records

Feb 13th
Did housework today
Laundry, dishes, parenting,
Instead of haikus.

Feb 14th
Happy Valentine's
Wear red and eat chocolate
Lots of love to you.

Halfway through the month
Are Haikus annoying yet?
Fifteen days to go.

Damon won't be fooled
Vanilla yogurt disguise
Totally did fail.

Week One

February Statuses, Week One

For the month of February, I challenged myself to do every Facebook update in the form of a haiku.  I'm posting them all here so I have them all in one place.  Here's week one:

Jan 31st
Half an hour early
Welcome to February!
Whole month of haikus!

Feb 1st
February first
Hard to write a decent haiku
With Bubs attacking.

First haiku of month
Already have made error
I blame lack of sleep.

Busy playdate day
Coffee and chatting for moms
Two small boys now nap.

Swimming tomorrow
Missed two weeks while in BC
Sure hope I don't drown.

Feb 2nd
Punxsutawney Phil
You know, he drives pretty good
For a quadraped.

Today in swim class
Coach said my stroke looks quite good
Twelve hundred total

Gave myself a push
One hundred continuous
I feel fantastic!

How adorable
My two year old is trying
To sing soft kitty

Oh my poor stomach
Hurts from laughing so so hard
Maybe you like it?
The link I posted

Feb 3rd
6 is too early
Up while it is still dark out
Mmm quart of coffee.

No more pictures, please
Of creepy hidden faces
They give me nightmares.

My favourite thing
About kids being in bed
Don't have to share food.

Feb 4th
Adorable hair
Naked baby wants laptop
But mom! I'm so cute!














 Too many grey hairs
This colour sure is stinky.
I hope that it works.

I suck at side plank
No core muscles to speak of
Have to start somewhere

Feb 5th
Busy Day today
Ikea lunch and Grandma's.
No time for haikus!

Miserable Bubs
Hardly wants to eat a thing.
Finally, a tooth?

Feb 6th
Ten years off my life
John can open baby gates.
Bubs fell down four stairs.

Kids are being weird.
What is that out my window?
Giant white full moon.

Feb 7th
Few minutes alone
With coffee and internet
What a luxury

Small book club meeting
Still I got out of the house
Delicious mocha.

Outside the Circle.

To know that I'm exluded,
Leaves me quite dejected.
When I am not included,
I feel I've been rejected.

I tend to shutter up my soul,
Put walls around my heart.
When I'm unsure of others,
I keep myself apart.

Old childhood issues surface,
With emotions, I am haunted.
I'm an adult, I can think it though,
I shouldn't feel unwanted.

When I feel that I am disliked,
A self-fufilling prophesy
After all, how can I be myself?
If I feel like you detest me?

No one else decides my worth,
If you don't like me, screw it
If you look at me with contempt,
That's just how you view it.

But still there is a part of me,
That aches to be accepted.
To be a part of every group,
To be together and connected.

And now that I have vented,
I can pull out the knife
of hurt, and take a nice, deep breath,
And move on with my life.

Bittersweet

As I watch my child
Explore his world,
On legs strong and steady,
My heart aches,
He grows so quick,
Faster than I'm ready.
His eyes are bright,
His hands dexterous,
His grin is quite the beam,
My helpless baby,
From newborn days,
Seems an illusion or a dream.
I love to see
My children grow
They are so bright and clever,
And yet still,
I softly mourn
As my babes are gone forever.

This one is gross.

Seriously, skip this one, especially if you like things like eating.


Today's a day I understand
Why some moms resort to drinking
I'm still a little traumatized,
This episode was stinking. 

I was going to change my younger,
He was pungent, I may mention,
When my older lay down on the change pad,
I thought he just wanted attention.

I asked him if he could move,
I needed to lay his brother down,
OH MY GOD what's on your shirt?
Is that crusty..and brown!?

Turns out he was smelly,
A diaper fully loaded.
So full, in fact, there was a problem,
It unfortunately had exploded.

Up the back and out both legs,
Change of pants and shirt and more..
Because when I went to wash my hands,
I found some on the floor.

There was a trail from chair to sink,
Scrubbing was applied!
And then I found some on my socks,
I really almost cried.

Oh motherhood, you love to surprise,
And keep me on my toes, it's true.
But it would be nice if things could stay contained,
Especially poo.

But I don't wanna clean!

Muscles are achy,
Messy habitation
Brain so sleepy,
No motivation.

Positivity

Yesterday's challenge was to look at ourselves in a mirror and say, out loud, ten positive things.  I really struggled with this, and the thought of telling myself positive things actually caused me anxiety, and made me feel sick to my stomach.  I ended up saying my 10 things hurriedly in the dark.  I have issues.

It's easy to look at myself,
And say, you look chubby.
Look at those disgusting rolls,
You're chunky, fat and tubby.
Your hair looks awfully stupid,
And also did I mention?
You've got a yukky double chin,
And a gross pizza complexion.
Hey, new wrinkles and grey hairs,
Giant pores and saggy bum
And just in case it slipped your mind,
You're also awfully dumb.

I would not let somebody else,
Insult me in such a way.
So why when I say it to myself
Do I think it's okay?

Why can't I look into the mirror,
And say: You look pretty!
You're looking awfully slim today!
You're funny, and you're witty!
Your legs are strong and shapely,
Bright and sparkly are your eyes, 
Your smile is genuine, and
You make the most delicious pies.
Your hair is looking gorgeous!
You also know you're smart,
And inside your most perfect chest,
Is a warm and loving heart.

Cheerios and Fear

I went to spin this morning with my SIL.  My husband was nice enough to watch not only our kids, but SIL's kids as well.  I received a text right as class was starting: "The house smells of Cheerios and fear."  It made me laugh, and inspired this poem.

The house smells of Cheerios and fear,
As five young children now are here.
My husband was left alone,
With these five offspring in our home.
Nephew, nephew, sons and niece,
Looks like there will be no peace.
Five and one and two and three,
Just nine months for one that's wee.
Mom and Auntie have gone spinning,
Sweating, working, puffing, grinning.
Spin was great, my legs did burn,
As I made my pedals turn.
Afterwards, we made a stop,
At the local coffee shop.
Arriving home, the kids were fine,
There hadn't been excess of whine,
And more important: Dan was okay
He had handled fine the fray.
I know that he was apprehensive,
And his morning was intensive,
But while he may have found it stressful,
We will call the day successful!

Push.

I feel like there should be more to this.  Thoughts?

If I don't push myself,
I will not improve.
I can stay in my rut,
Comfortable in my groove.

Sometimes I'm content,
Here in this place
Change can be scary,
And I know this space.

When I challenge myself,
I only get stronger,
So I can go further,
Harder or longer.

I will set small goals,
See what is feasible,
I just might surprise myself,
With what is achievable.

with each small goal,
That I do achieve,
My confidence expands,
In myself I believe.

Valentine's Ode

Yeah, it's cheesy. 

Of Valentine's, I am not a fan,
But my husband is a romantic man.
He buys me treats, gifts for the boys,
Little chocolates or tiny toys.
He cooks me food, a delicious dish,
Doesn't care if I wear pants with fish.
Puts up with my morning crank,
Before my coffee's made and drank.
When I feel fat, he says I'm pretty
He sometimes thinks my jokes are witty.
When I have angry old man face,
He helps it out with an embrace.
He's also a terrific father,
Our sons are not to him a bother,
Instead, they give him great delight,
(Maybe slightly less in the dark of night)
Every day, I feel so blessed.
(Though from this poem, you may have guessed)
I am lucky to have found this man,
Happy Valentine's Day to my Dan.

Breakfast Betrayal

Timed it, twelve minutes
So Three Minute Cream of Wheat?
You are a liar.

Spin Class

Breathless, straining,
Quads are burning,
Fight to keep those
Pedals turning.
Sweating, puffing,
Legs are shaking
My whole body now
Is aching.
Spirit is weak,
Motivation: gone.
Feeling faint...
Oh? Class is done?

I also wrote a status haiku.  I find that singing along to the music helps distract me from the fact I want to die.  One of the other participants kept glaring every time we would sing.  We being me and my new spin buddy who also enjoys singing:

Challenging spin class
Singing helps to pass the time
Warren's not a fan

For the record, about 30 minutes in, I couldn't sing anymore because I was so breathless.

Here's one for today:

Aching, sore muscles
Walking like an old lady
Day after spin class

Be thankful it's not about how much my butt hurts.

Another reject

Tomorrow is spin
Have my extra padded shorts.
Hello, sore butt cheeks.

Rejected

I wrote this one the other day, but did not post it as a status, for obvious reasons.

Cribs sheets and blankets
Into the laundry first thing
Giant Poosplosion.

The flip side.*

Today, I'm a rock,
Today, I will sink.
I splash and I flail
Around in the drink.

I am upset and stressed,
My chest, it feels tight.
Every stroke is a battle,
Every length is a fight.

I cough and I struggle,
I go through the motions,
Today, I'm distracted.
A creature of emotions.

*edit: This one makes more sense if you have read this one first

Not my best effort.

Today I wanted to write something silly,
About some kind of food, maybe tacos with chile,
My bright yellow grapefruit, my chocolate cranberries,
Or delicious and creamy tubs of Ben and Jerry's.

Instead, this morning, I had quite a start,
A small incident that frightened my heart,
My wee little baby, of only months nine,
(and, don't worry!  He really is fine!)
While I was folding my big laundry jumble,
He found some stairs, and took quite a tumble.
We have a half bath, down stairs numbered four,
The bathroom has a sliding pocket-type door.

We have a gate on the stairs at the top,
Baby falls it's designed to stop.
My husband was downstairs, you can guess why,
And it seems that the gate was slightly awry,
It was shaken by a boy who is two,
When it was open, he promptly went through.
I heard a "Hi Bud!" and quickly looked over,
To see a wee babe try to follow his brother.
As he crawled through the gate, his hand landed on air,
And end-over-end he fell down the stairs.

I yelled a bad word, and leapt to my wee guy,
Who was rather startled, and starting to cry.
I managed to calm him, but my heart was racing,
He was already happy, while I was him embracing.
I talked to my older, and I tried to convey,
That he wasn't in trouble, and Bubs was okay,
But the gate needed to be closed, I spoke to his frown,
So that his little brother wouldn't fall down.

My baby is fine, and he soon was playing,
I am sure my hair has a lot more greying.
So my poem today is not about food,
And the rhyming is not very good.
Hopefully, tomorrow, I can be more fun,
And now this terrible poem here is done.

Placeholder.

For the month of February, I have challenged myself to do all my Facebook statuses as haikus.  Actually, I posted a poll, and haiku was the clear winner.  While this is great for me creatively in general, my rhyming stuff has been suffering.

Goal tomorrow: a rhyming poem about something silly. 

Confession: my favourite style of poetry to write is free verse, which I have not done in years.  My free verse ones tend to be depressing, and I have not been able to pull off teenage angst for about 20 years now.  Mid-30's angst just isn't as acceptable.

Here's two terrible haikus that did not make the status cut, because they are awful:

Know what makes me mad?
Seeing drivers yapping on
Their stupid cell phones.

Recommended page
A little weird to have one
Liked by my dead dad.

I'm Learning

Whenever we speak,
It's always a fight.
You think I'm always wrong,
And you're always right.

Instead of engaging
And going mad,
I have a better plan,
Of that I am glad.

I can stand up straight,
I can be strong.
You're not always right,
I'm not always wrong.

Our opinions are different,
And that is just fine.
You have your feelings,
I'm entitled to mine.

I don't have to defend,
I don't have to explain,
It's not worth my time,
It's not worth my pain.

Instead of an argument,
I don't want to play.
I can shut my mouth.
I can walk away.

We will never solve this,
So there won't be talking.
I have two feet.
And those feet are walking. 

Good Swim

Today I'm a fish
Today I will glide
Through the cool water
My body will slide

My breathing is even,
My legs, they feel strong,
My arms are efficient,
I am relaxed, lean and long.

My stroke has a rhythm,
My breath is hypnotic.
Today I am happy,
A creature aquatic.

February 2nd.

Six AM again
Four-slice toaster in the bath
Babe, I got you babe.

Ned?  Ned Ryerson?
Step into a deep puddle.
God, I hate this town.  

Punxsutawney Phil 
You know, he drives pretty good 
For a quadraped.

(The last one is my favourite!)

What we have here is a failure to communicate.

I read something that may or may not have been related to my previous poem, and it was not flattering.  Since I thought I had one whole reader, I am going to assume it was a coincidence.  If it was not a coincidence, well, there is a definite mis-communication which I am going to do my best to address once I get my thoughts together.  So without furthur ado...

I am a grown up
But sometimes take time,
Before I will speak
What's on my mind.

I like to take stock,
Sort out my thinking,
Then I will reply,
Without it stinking.

I am quick to anger,
And to take offense,
I used to reply with haste,
And aggressive defence.

Now I try to calm down,
And approach with respect,
So I can pick the right words,
And phrases correct.

In the meantime,
I write poems to vent,
My verse not intended
To cause dissent.

My rhymes are just silly,
Though I'm no Dr. Seuss,
I mean no disrespect with
These poems I produce.

I write to force my brain
Out of its stupor,
And post them for my BFF
Who thinks they are super.

Head + brick wall = Ow.

Some days I wonder how some adults
Function in their life.
When I try to talk to them,
All I get is strife.

I like to think I am quite clear
And good at communicating,
So why is it that they cannot listen?
I find it so frustrating!

I ask you x, you tell me y,
Which does not at all answer me.
And when I rephrase the question,
You still ignore my query.

THEN when I try to ask again,
And think I'm talking straight
I get told the fault is mine!
Maybe I'm too dumb to participate.

Quit being so condescending,
And get off of your horse tall,
Maybe try to READ MY WORDS,
Instead of assuming my brain is small.

So I will try to be polite,
And sweetly nod and smile,
They do not have to know my teeth,
Are gritted all the while. 

I will fume for at least one day,
Take a deep breath, then,
I will try to rephrase myself,
Again and again and again.

This was supposed to be funnier.

This started out as a goofy poem about the last day of "vacation".  (I put vacation in quotes as traveling with two small children is not a vacation.)  It turned out rather over-dramatic and melancholy.  But, I made a deal with myself to publish what I write daily, no matter how crummy...so TA DA!

Last full day in BC,
Tomorrow I will go
To Alberta, where I live,
And its icy frozen snow.

My heart is torn in two, it seems,
One half here abides.
Parents, lake and mountains,
Wishes here we could reside.

When I arrive, by plane or car,
I feel it in my bones.
My spirit and the land connect,
I know that I am home.

But instead, I've built a life
1000 kilometres away
I married an Alberta boy,
And there he'd like to stay.

I have a house and family there,
My boys have lots of kin.
I've made my home, and embraced the life,
I know that I fit in.

I love the life I have conceived,
My friends and neighbourhood.
I am blessed in so many ways,
My life there is good.

And yet...as my plane leaves the ground
My heart will heavy weigh.
I know that my bones will ache.
I know my soul will yearn to stay.

Saturday Morning

Softly falling snow
Grey icy lake, blue mountains
Content.  Peaceful.  Home.

Ode to Manners.

Into my children,
I would like to instill
Good and nice manners,
So we have a drill.

Word by word, with long pauses
I will say a phrase,
When my son repeats it,
He does receive praise.

"May...I....have...some.....milk...please?"
He says, while I cheer
Of course you can have some!
Here you are, my dear.

"Thank you!" is said promptly,
"You're welcome!" I say
When he is finished,
We echo with delay:

"May....I....please...be....excused?"
Of course, if you're done!
So proud I am,
Of my smart little son.

If I do everything wrong,
At least this part I'll get right,
My boy will have manners.
He will know to be polite.

So then when he holds up
A liquor store, he will say:
"May....I....have...all...your.....money...please?"
Then "Thank you!" as he runs away.

Lunch Haiku

Tempura veggies
A little boy with manners
A successful lunch.

Writer's Block

I am trying to write,
My rhymes are all stinking,
I will keep trying,
Hope I get better at thinking.

The above verse demonstrates
The level of suck
That I have been composing,
With my brain that is stuck.

Another Tired Haiku

Up at five-thirty
Oh, simultaneous naps
A dream unfufilled

Lunch Sonnet

This time I tried to get the 10 syllables per line as per the definition: A Shakespearean, or English, sonnet consists of 14 lines, each line containing ten syllables and written in iambic pentameter, in which a pattern of an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable is repeated five times. The rhyme scheme in a Shakespearean sonnet is a-b-a-b, c-d-c-d, e-f-e-f, g-g; the last two lines are a rhyming couplet. I don't think I quite got the iambic pentameter, though.


A checkered tablecloth and china plates
On a small table to seat two friends good;
Sumptuous feast in the kitchen awaits
A decision made, an order of food.

Buttered warm, flaky rolls; soup orgasmic.
Greek salad with ample mild feta cheese.
Beef souvlaki, tzaziki fantastic,
Rice pilaf for any palate to please.

No high-pitched voices, nor noses snotty,
No tiny faces with applesauce smeared,
No talk of pee and poop on the potty,
No boisterous babbling, nor antics weird.

Thank you was expressed to my mom a bunch
For enabling me my grown-up lunch.

By the way, this lunch was amazing.  I might have to write another poem just about the soup alone.

Ode to my Face.

Why is it now, at thirty-six,
I am still wrestling with zits?
As a teen, I was then told,
When I was a little bit more old,
My face would soon be clean and clear,
From top to chin and ear to ear.
That was a big fat pack of lies,
My monthly cycle's advertised.
With painful whiteheads, on my chin,
Or at the corners of my grin.
The lovely glow of pregnancy?
Did not happen here for me.
Instead, blemishes galore,
They would clear up, and grow some more.
Added years have the result,
An injury on top of an insult,
Upon my lip, below my nose,
A nice thick mustache there now grows.

To find an optimistic spin,
About the horrors of my skin,
Instead of now feeling dejection,
About my dubious complexion,
I will embrace that I look youthful,
And I know that this is truthful,
Rather than looking gray and old,
If I may be in fact, so bold,
To say that I feel mirth and joy,
To have the face of a teenaged boy.

Fitness Challenge Fail

 I am in a fitness challenge with a group of women, where we are given a challenge each day.  Some days it is exercise (for example, yesterday was 200 stairs) and some days it is nutritional, such as no added sugar or eat 3 colours of fruits and vegetables.  Today's challenge is no caffeine.  You may have guessed by the title how well I did with this one.

No coffee you say?
But this mug I hold,
In hands that are neither
Dead nor cold.

My baby's not sleeping
Willpower I lack,
I'll admit I'm an addict
And coffee's my crack.

You can take away my sugar,
You can make me do planks,
Eat lots of veggies,
But my coffee?  No thanks.

I choked down the protein,
But there's no way around it,
If you were looking for my limit,
Looks like you have found it.

Extra bold brew,
Lightly sweetened, with cream,
Means today I'm a failure,
I have let down my team.

My streak has ended,
But I won't feel sorrow.
I am only human,
And there's always tomorrow.

Ode to Oops.

I'm away from home and fell out of the writing groove.  Must rectify.
(Also, most days I want to title my poems "Worst Poem Ever", but there can only ever be one worst.  It forces me to be a bit more creative.)

I did not write
Because I took a flight
It was day,
Not in the night.

On a plane,
In the snow, not rain,
To see my parents
And my home again.

I need to sleep,
But do not weep.
I will write tomorrow
This promise I keep.

No.

I am allowed to say no.
This is my epiphany,
I always said yes even when
It wasn't best for me.

I am allowed to say no.
I can say it to my mother,
I can say it to my father, sister,
Husband, son or brother. 

I am allowed to say no,
I can say it to a friend,
And my no doesn't mean
That the friendship needs to end.

I am allowed to say no.
I don't say it to be cruel,
Malicious, mean or vicious,
I don't say it to be cool.

I am allowed to say no.
Without an explanation
I am sorry if this causes you
Excessive consternation.

I am allowed to say no.
I can say it with a smile,
I can look someone right in the face,
And say it without guile.

I am allowed to say no,
Because I have found, you see,
Sometimes it's not what's best for you,
But it is what's best for me.

Minus 50

From Environment Canada today: 

Wind chill warning for
City of Edmonton - St. Albert - Sherwood Park continued

Wind chill values of minus 40 to 50 developing tonight and lasting through Wednesday morning.

This is a warning that extreme wind chill conditions are imminent or occurring in these regions. Monitor weather conditions..Listen for updated statements.

Cold Arctic air has invaded much of Alberta and will bring temperatures of minus 31 to 39 overnight. These temperatures combined with winds of 15 to 20 km/h will give wind chills of minus 40 to 50 in the above mentioned regions overnight into Wednesday morning.

At these extreme wind chill values frostbite on exposed skin may occur in less than 10 minutes.

Two more sleeps,
And I am in BC
30 degrees warmer,
Makes a happier me.

-

Yuck, minus 50
Winter, why don't you bite me?
Kiss my frozen ass.

-

Two housebound children
Hey, where is Mommy? Behold:
Fetal position.

Cold Snap

The kind of cold
I feel in my toes
It freezes the hairs
Inside of my nose.

My fingers go numb
Even in mitts.
Minus thirty-seven
Is really the pits.

The wind makes my eyes water
The snow creaks under my feet,
I'm wearing 47 layers
In a vain attempt at heat.

If I were free and single
South and west I'd go
To the sunny Okanagan,
Where it's never 40 below.

But I love my husband,
And my children too,
Born and bred Albertans,
What else is there to do?

I have chosen to live here,
I have made it my home.
But I reserve the right, in the winter,
To bitch, complain and moan.

I loathe you, stupid winter!
I cannot stand you, snow!
I abhor the chilly, cutting winds,
That swirl and gust and blow.

I will detest you, winter,
Each and every day,
Until my friend, the spring arrives!
Sometime in late May.

Crap

The previous post should have been published yesterday.  Apparently, I didn't click hard enough.  For today:

I am too tired to poem
That is what happens
When your baby is sick
And your sleep is the crappens.

Apparently, you also make up words.

How 2011 Sucked.

This one is long, and is my first draft.  I have not proof-read or edited, so there may be errors.  It was hard enough to write.  There may be a final draft in the future, or this may be the only purge.  All these things actually happened to me in 2011.  I did leave out the 3 other instances of the stomach flu, one when I was 40 weeks pregnant, just my 18 month old got it (try changing crib sheets while that pregnant), and one episode in Nov. and one in Dec.  
Seriously, this year bit.

I don't want to sound
Rude, mean or crass,
But two thousand and eleven,
Sucked major ass.

37 weeks pregnant,
Too far along to fly,
I get a phone call
That my Grandpa might die.

April 20th was one good day,
Filled with lots of joy,
I finally gave birth
To a healthy, happy boy.

April 28th,
My sister calls and picks a fight,
She wants to come see Grandpa
And is trying to book a flight.

That evening, the news comes.
Grandpa is no more.
He has passed away
At the age of ninety-four.

The service was held in May,
On the day twenty-two,
The day before I flew down,
My older son got the flu.

I left a barfing 18-month old
At home with his dad
And flew with my one month old
While feeling rather sad.

The service was beautiful,
With relatives to see,
But as I got home exhausted,
The flu also struck me!

My husband was also sick,
And my sister came to stay,
She was to fly back to England,
On the next Friday.

Instead, drama and chaos!
Rather than returning,
To her husband of 8 short months,
Her marriage she was spurning.

We moved her out of our small house,
She moved in with an ex.
We thought we had a breather now,
Oh but what comes next?

June 24th, I am home
And at naptime hear a thumping,
From the basement, but just think
The cats are maybe bumping.

My husband comes home from work,
I take older son outside,
I come back in and he has to tell me,
That my one cat has died.

Bailey was only 13,
His death was quite a blow,
We do not know why he died,
And will probably never know.

My baby boys are wonderful,
And they brings me cheer,
They are my little rays of light,
In this crapfest of a year. 

Oh but wait, there's more!
The year is only halfway through.
And as you will soon see,
The sorrows did accrue.

The year before, an ultrasound,
During my pregnancy,
Discovered a dermoid cyst
On my right ovary.

The cyst was 7 cm,
And I opted to wait,
Until my baby had been born
Before my surgery date. 

They tried to book my surgery,
For the 18th of July,
But my baby was too little,
So that wasn't going to fly.

I was scared of the procedure,
Never had surgery abdominal,
And I was afraid the pain and recovery,
Would be quite abominable.

My new date was set
For October twenty-one.
I cannot say the experience,
Was really super fun.

I made it through the surgery,
Had a good recovery.
So I took the boys to see my parents,
In lovely BC.

The last full day, a Wednesday,
November twenty-three,
7:50 AM, a phone call
And it's my husband for me?

I ask him why he's calling
I joke with him "Who died?"
And when he gives the answer,
Something broke inside.

The answer was my father,
His age was sixty years,
And I began grieving,
Shedding lots of tears.

Sorrow and confusion,
It also was apparent,
There was anger over him cheating my boys
Out of a grandparent.

Many days of darkness,
But I began to fight,
I had to be here for my kids,
My shining beams of light.

So, 2011,
Thank you for my son.
He is wonderous and precious,
But I am glad you're done.

Kiss my ass, you stupid year.
I'm happy you are through.
A better year will be this one.
Two thousand, ten plus two.

Motherhood

Don't poke your brother!
Don't climb on that!
No, your full lunch plate
Is NOT a hat.

Why is it that
A certain truck's only fun
If it's being played with
By the other one?

Feet on the table,
Fingers in ears,
A time out from Mommy
Causes big tears.

I'm pretty sure my voice
Is just some white noise
A buzzing background hum
To two little boys.

Oh dear, now I find out
Dad's working late
If the gypsies showed up,
They would get a good rate.

I can't wait for bedtime,
Some time that is mine!
With a huge hunk of chocolate,
And a big glass of wine.

May they sleep soundly,
Oh, this I pray
And listen better tomorrow
Than they did today!

Return to Swim

First swim today
In a year and a half
I hope the real triathletes
Don't point and laugh.

I drew a doodle,
A swimmer with a dream
Of winning a trophy, a medal
And a triple ice cream.

I got to the class,
The coach had advice
To improve my position
And was super nice.

I did half the workout,
With a bit extra rest,
But whenever I breathed left,
Out popped my breast.

I swam 750 meters,
I didn't drown,
I will go back again,
I won't be wearing a frown.

I will get better!
This I cannot dispute!
But before I go back,
I need a new suit.

Who wouldn't want a trophy, a medal AND a triple scoop ice cream with a cherry on top!?

Fire

Yesterday, I witnessed a fire.  It is not something I feel like writing a happy, rhyming poem about, so instead I will tell the story.

I got the boys to the table for lunch, and went to use the washroom.  When I came out, I noticed what looked like fog out my back windows.  That seemed weird to me, since it has previously been a fairly nice day out.  I went to look out my back door for a closer look, and realised it was smoke.

How close the fire was to my house, about 100m.

My house has a back alley, and behind that is a creek with a walking path.  On the other side of the path is a townhouse complex, of duplexes and fourplexes.  The smoke was coming from one of the duplex units, and I could see flames by the bottom of the house.

I called 911, and asked for fire.  She asked where it was, and I named my town.  She named the street, and I confirmed, and she said they were already on their way, but thank you for calling.  We hung up, and I watched the fire.  Fire engines arrived.

Smoke obscuring the fire

I took some pictures and video, and sent my husband a BBM with a picture and the message "One of the townhouses behind us is on fire"  Because I didn't punctuate it, or add any emoticons, he thought I was being awfully casual.

The smell was horrid.  When I first went outside to take pictures, the roar of the fire was amazing.  I had no idea it would be so loud.  It is also impossible to describe - like a sucking roar sound.

In between watching the fire, I was also trying to get lunch into two little boys.  My two-year-old kept wanting to watch with me, and my 8-month-old was mad because we kept "deserting" him in his chair to watch the fire.

I could see the firefighters spraying from the front of the house, and a ladder truck with a bucket set up on the back of the house.  I kept trying to get pictures that showed the flames on the roof, and then I would feel horrible.  A family's home was being detroyed, and I was trying to get better shots of it?

The side is destroyed and the roof is in flames.

The firefighters had things under control in about an hour, and I could see the house was reduced to a shell.  The roof is almost completely gone.

Roof still smouldering

News reports indicate no one was home, and there were no injuries.  Thank goodness.

The remains

 

I took this standing on my back deck.  At the end you can hear me making a noise as I inhaled smoke.  I had to go inside at that point to avoid it. My house smelled like campfire all afternoon.

I hope these people are able to get back on their feet quickly.  I am glad no one was home or hurt.


I have been counting my blessings, which are many.

My Stupid Fridge

Apparently, I need to vacuum the condensers again.  This is a process that requires assistance, to move the fridge, so it won't happen today.  *twitch*

My fridge is ailing
It is making a noise
Like a rabid chainsaw
My sanity it destroys

It buzzes for hours
While cooling my food
The noise is so grating
It destroys my mood

I should try to relax
And handle this with grace
Instead I want to punch my fridge
Right in the face.

Okay, fridges don't have faces
But my mind is going black
I'm afraid I've started twitching
I'm about to blow my stack

Oh my god..it stopped
The silence is a blessing
It is amazing how a constant noise
Can be so incredibly stressing.

Now I feel the dread
Because I don't know when
The fridge will need to cycle on
And that noise will start again.

Crayon drawing

We had burgers for dinner last night.  Due to some mis-communication about how the chicken was going to get cooked, it did not get cooked.  We left the kids with the MIL and ran down to 5 Guys.

They have little pieces of paper (about the size of index cards) and crayons so you can amuse yourself while you wait.  Sadly, I did not think to get a picture of what my husband drew.  Here is what I drew:

 

So not only do I write poetry, I am also awesome with crayons.

Big juicy burger
Sorry about the chicken
Bacon! All better.

Sleep Deprivation

Worst poem ever.

Mind is mushy
brain is fuzz
can't even get a
coffee buzz

two kids screaming
up all night
two hours (if that) of sleep
is just not right

Too tired to capatalize
rhyming hurts my head
wish I could be sleeping
back in my cozy bed

I'll brew a pot of coffee
because, seriously, the keurig is just not going to get me through the day.

I yearn for naptime
i hope they sleep
If they don't,
I just may weep.

It's days like these
I remind myself
I wanted kids
Not some elf.

My godness this is
the worst ever verse.
Time to end it
Before it gets any worse.

Assembly Required

Two flat-pack boxes
Hold a variety of parts
The instructions show a cartoon man,
With not a lot of smarts.

Is it this piece?  or that one?
These illustrations are not clear.
Okay, we have one screw in,
This should take about a year.

The outside is assembled!
Time to take a break.
This might be more easy
If the kids were not awake.

The two-year-old is "helping".
No!  Don't eat that screw!
We probably will need it
Around step forty-two.

Let's get these drawers together,
It's naptime, let's not dawdle.
Whose idea was it anyway,
To get the six drawer model?

Finally!  A new dresser!
To store clothes to wear.
We show it to the eight-month-old.
Yeah, he doesn't care.

Dinner

Hamburger Goulash
Mix a bunch of stuff in pan
It's good on noodles.

An Ode to Feedback

I'd like to keep this rated G
As we don't need profanity
To make a point, so this I say:
I'm glad you visited today.
I hope my poems can make you smile,
And make your visit here worthwhile
Perhaps you will chuckle, let out a guffaw,
Or silently applaud with awe.
I'm happy you enjoy my verse,
Please leave a comment, long or terse.
But if you think my poems suck,
Then I really do not give a...pomegranate.

Hoader Shack Sonnet

While I managed the 14 lines, and the rhyming scheme, I did not exactly pull of iambic pentameter.  What can I say?  I'm not Shakespeare :)

Hoarder Shack Sonnet 

My best friend bought a townhouse, christened it a shack
It was full of garbage, rejected hoarder trash.
She cleaned it with her family, top to bottom, front to back,
And implemented plans which would use lots of her cash.

Bathroom floors got brand new lino, ugly carpet was removed,
The walls, multiple colours, were all painted grey,
With a helicoptor chandelier, the shack was much improved,
But the toil was not through, no time for cabernet.

New toilets were installed, new carpet on the stairs,
And last but not least, for sure, a brand new shiny kitchen
And after all the work was done, all of these repairs,
The former horder shack was finally super bitchin'

And this ends my little poem
About my BFF's new home.

An Ode That is Probably Not About You.

Everyone is out to get you
Your world is full of woe
That driver cut you off!
This line is way too slow!

When you walk down the mall
Noone will get out of the way!
When you post on Facebook,
You have nothing nice to say.

It seems that in your little head
You believe this to be true:
There is the entire universe
And at its centre, you.

I am sorry to inform you
That this is not the case
And everyone else in this world
Is entitled to some space.

The next time you feel rage building
And you're about to blow your stack,
Try a smile on your face
And cut the world some slack.

My other small suggestion,
When you want to fling some crap,
Instead of saying something negative,
Kindly shut your yap.

Costco Haikus

I went to Costco today.  Here's some Haikus.

Aisle end sample stand
Sucks me in with tasty treats
Hooray!  Impulse buys!

Damon lost a shoe
Random stranger siblings fight
Who will bring it back?

Resisted ice cream
Did not buy cute baby clothes
Mmm dried coconut!

Giant bag of nuts
Extra large fillet of fish
Bye, hundred dollars

An Ode to my Crisper Drawer

Weird and slimy, vaguely green
With a smell that is obscene,
Stinky juice trapped in the grooves
Ack! That might be something that moves!
Ancient produce, mystery blobs
Really, we aren't giant slobs.
I think this fuzz was one a peach
Scrub it out and soak with bleach!
Clean and shiny, empty bin
I will fill it up again!
With some veggies, quite the haul,
THIS time I swear I'll eat them all!

The Penguin Poem

On Dec 31st, I went to a spin class.  I was worried about going, since I am out of shape, and confided this to my best friend.  She told me to recite the Penguin Poem over and over.  She was referring to the quote by John "The Penguin" Bingham which goes "The miracle is not that I finished.  The miracle is that I had the courage to start."  I thought she meant a poem about a little penguin who overcomes odds, something like this:


Once there was a little penguin
He had flippers black
One day he slipped upon some ice
And fell on to his back
A walrus saw and laughed at him
A harbour seal did too
Oh, the poor little penguin
Whatever shall he do?
The penguin got up off the ice
Slowly, it's not a race
Walked right up to that walrus
And punched him in the face.

BFF:   BEST POEM EVER!!!

    DID YOU JUST MAKE THAT UP????????

ME:  Yes, I do that :)

BFF:  best poem ever!!! go penguin!!!!

ME:  I especially like the face punching part. Face punching improves any poem by 110%

--

I do feel there is room for improvement.  After all, the harbour seal didn't get what was coming to him.

An Ode to my Keurig

I am resurrecting this blog, not to talk about parenting, or training, or anything.  I am going to use it to write bad poetry.

My BFF asked me about my Keurig, and if maybe I could write a poem about it?  Here it is:

An Ode to my Keurig

Groggy sleepy crabbypants
Rage is building, starting rants
Need some coffee, need some joe
Caffeine makes life good, you know
Open up the chamber wide
Put your k-cup right inside
Push a button, pick a size
Coffee brews before your eyes
Inhale the scent and take a sip
Oh, delicious magic drip
I love you Keurig, here's a hug
Thank you for filling up my mug.

-Jan 2nd, 2012.