spiceoflife's Blog

Ally my poems in one place....
Dec 24, 2008 | 6:54 AM PST
Tags: spiceoflife , poem , poetry

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p>My first attempt here - subject was olives.

Olives green and olives black,
I won't give the olives back.

They fill the back seat of my car
I eat them by the can and jar.

Oil cured, or stuffed with cheese
They make me week in both my knees.

Don't ask me if they're kalamata
Because to me, it just don't matter

I put them on my fingers ten
I eat them all, then do it again.

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the subject was mulch.  Not much rhymes with "mulch"

There once was a man with a hulch
How to make a few tons of cheap mulch
He cut down his trees
And shredded up these
Now his yard has turned into a gulch.

(and believe it or not, hulch is a real word, at least according to
Webster and dictionary.com. It means hunch. But if you ask me,
they're only a letter different, mean the same thing, and hunch
sounds better.)

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A short one about Meska's naughty sock monkey friend, Patty.

Little Patty Pole Dancer playing in the forum.
She's not wearing any clothes because she already tore 'em.
The crowd yells, "Put something on!" But she will just ignore 'em.
Because our Patty Pole Dancer lacks any and all decorum.

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Not sure it's true, but I like the poem.  :-)

Just salt and pepper every day
Is pretty boring won't you say?

Add some nutmeg to my eggs.
Dust some sage on my chicken legs.

Some rosemary tied to my roast pork
would be fantastic on my fork.

Put some cardamom in my teas.
And some cumin in my split peas

This is why I don't have a wife,
Because variety is the spice of life.

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F is for the finger I cut while chopping bait.
I is for the rainy island where we camped out all night.
S is for the sunburn that blistered up my nose.
H is for hook that stuck me right through all my clothes.
I went fishing with my friend because he said it would be fun.
But we were on that boat all day and never caught us one.


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I once had a poodle
I named him Mister Ed.
He had hair not fur,
or so the experts said.

It didn't matter much to me.
Whether fur or hair.
That dog was one smart cookie,
He even learned to share.

One day my folks came to me
And said we have to have Ed clipped.
But when I saw what they did to him,
You could've had me dipped!

They made him look ridiculous!
I couldn't take him out that way:
All shaved smooth in some parts
And others all bouffay.

My friends would laugh, poke fun and tease.
To see my pet so manicured.
That would be too much to take;
It could not be endured.

So when my folks left us alone
Just me, myself and Ed.
I grabbed Dad's electric shaver
And took Ed out to the shed.

I did a proper shaving job
And got the parts they missed.
Now I have great big rat!
Boy are my folks p1$$ed!


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Passing time waiting for a new subject:

She joined one, six, two thousand eight,
Breezing through the garden gate.
She dropped a poem on our doorstep.
It was a ditty with some pep,
About some money she would spend
To fill a greenhouse without end.

When she left I didn't see
A subject for a poem for me.
So I wrote one about her poem
While sitting here alone at home,
Waiting patiently for her post
Like Jen Love Hewitt for a ghost.

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A cat and dog haiku:

I wish cats and dogs
could understand the spring
and find contentment

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April showers fell on time
to cue the blossoms on the vine
to burst their faces, fresh and new
with colors bold to sky of blue.

In reds and yellows, blues and pinks
with fruity citrus, or subtle stinks
they tickle senses long ignored
while weather snowed and nature snored.

Now awakened to the scene
of gardens filling up with green,
I breathe in deep both smell and sight
the new May flowers tall and bright.


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An Ode To Compost

The day is warm, still young and bright.
I'm out of work while still daylight!
I rush back home to check my bin
and see what sort of shape it's in.

I grab my fork and lift the lid
To see what time and hard work did.
I've thrown in leaves, and grass and twigs
Veggie peels and rotten figs.

There's no bad smell, so that is good.
But I still see leaves and bits of wood.
It's not done, oh no, not yet.
It will be soon, on that I'd bet.

So I start digging through the pile.
I know that this will take a while.
There's lot's of stuff, at least a ton.
I'm lucky I think this is fun.

Otherwise this would just be work
To be avoided or to shirk.
But it's good exercise for me,
And the compost that I get is free!

I plunge my fork into the leaves;
I shift my grip and then I heave!
What comes out just can't be beat:
Four tines full of hoary heat!

Actinomycetes makes the scene:
Bacteria that's white, not green.
It's filamentous fibers grow
through every leaf and blade I've mowed.

This thermophilic power play
By this bacteria night and day
Drives up the inner temperature
To kill bad things just like Pasteur.

Lifting here and tossing there
The compost sailing through the air
From full bin 1 to empty 2
Mixes oxygen all through.

This helps wee beasties to respire
and build more heat in my dark fire.
They work alchemically even faster
to make soil like an earth spellcaster.

After 30 minutes muscles hurt
from turning waste into new dirt.
So I decide to pack it in
and cover up my compost bin.

One more week and compost's done
Then I can shoot the starting gun
And get my veggies all to race
To be the first into my face.

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Up at dawn with rising sun.
Off to work; trudging on.
Return to home when work is done.
Garden chores till sun is gone.

The house is empty, the only sound
Is my gray cat stomping round.
His Padded feet hit the ground
Rooms seem to echo with their pound.

Day on day, the same old thing.
Till Wednesday comes and then I sing.
I'll see my son! My heart goes zing!
I'm acting like a ding-a-ling.

Finally done at my employ.
It's been a week. I missed my boy.
At home I see his unused toy.
Long drive ahead, and then some joy.

We exchange a hug, me on my knees.
Tell him we'll go to where he please.
To the park or Tasty Freeze?
No, he says, to Chuck E. Cheese!

Three short hour's all I have
On Wednesday night to be a Dad.
We make the most of the time and add
A few memories to the writing pad.

Then back to Mom's to drop him there.
We hug goodbye, I kiss his hair.
A final wave into the air.
Tears of a clown if you get too near.

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