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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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. 

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.