Monday, January 30, 2012

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.

Sunday, January 29, 2012

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, January 28, 2012

Saturday Morning

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

Friday, January 27, 2012

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.

Thursday, January 26, 2012

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.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Another Tired Haiku

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

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

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.

Monday, January 23, 2012

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.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

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.

Saturday, January 21, 2012

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.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

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.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

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.

Monday, January 16, 2012

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.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

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.

Friday, January 13, 2012

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!

Thursday, January 12, 2012

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!?

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

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.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

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.

Monday, January 9, 2012

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.

Sunday, January 8, 2012

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.

Saturday, January 7, 2012

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.

Friday, January 6, 2012

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.

Thursday, January 5, 2012

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.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

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

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

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.

Monday, January 2, 2012

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.