Tag: Poems
Random Riddle:
| So, riddle me this and riddle me that. What can have a head that can’t wear a hat? It’s seen in a book that never gets read. With a life too short before it is dead. |
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A Smile
She smiled at a sorrowful stranger.
The smile seemed to make him feel better.
He remembered past kindnesses of a friend and wrote him a thank-you letter.
The friend was so pleased with the thank-you that he left a large tip after lunch.
The waitress, surprised by the size of the tip, bet the whole thing on a hunch.
The next day she picked up her winnings, and gave part to a man on the street.
The man on the street was grateful; for two days he’d had nothing to eat.
After he finished his dinner, he left for his small dingy room.
(He didn’t know at that moment that he might be facing his doom.)
On the way he picked up a shivering puppy and took him home to get warm.
The puppy was very grateful to be in out of the storm.
That night the house caught on fire.
The puppy barked the alarm.
He barked ’til he woke the whole household and saved everybody from harm.
One of the boys that he rescued grew up to be President.
All this because of a simple smile that hadn’t cost a cent.
‘Twas The Week After Christmas
‘Twas the week after Christmas, and all through the house,
nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The cookies I’d nibble, the eggnog I’d taste,
all the holiday parties had gone to my waist.
When I got on the scales, there arose such a number!
When I walked to the store (less a walk than a lumber).
I remembered the marvelous meals I prepared…
The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared.
The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese,
and the way I never said, “No thank you, please.”
As I dressed myself in my husband’s old shirt,
and prepared once again to battle the dirt.
I said to myself, as I only can,
“You can’t spend a winter dressed like a man!”
So away with the last of the sour cream dip,
get rid of the fruit cake, every cracker and chip.
Every last bit of food that I like must be banished,
until all the additional ounces have vanished.
I won’t have a cookie, not even a lick.
I’ll want only to chew on a long celery stick.
I won’t have hot biscuits, or cornbread, or pie.
I’ll munch on a carrot — and quietly cry.
I’m hungry, I’m lonesome, and life is a bore,
but isn’t that what January is for?
Unable to giggle, no longer a riot,
Happy New Year to all!!!
…..and to all a good diet.
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