Shout Hurray!

If you’re happy and you know it, 

Shout hurray! (Hurray!) 

If you’re happy and you know it, 

Shout hurray! (Hurray!) 

If you’re happy and you know it, then your face will surely show it, 

If you’re happy and you know it, 

Shout hurray! (Hurray!) 

Think of things that really brighten up

Your day! (Your day!) 

Like your family. And friends along

Your way! (Your way!) 

Cause they bring you special moments, so you don’t have to ‘alone’ it, 

Yes, they really help you brighten up  

Your day! (Hooray!) 

Now the things that really make you 

Feel okay! (Okay!) 

Like good food and music, skillfully  

Displayed! (Displayed!)

Cause they make your tummy happy, and your toes alive and ‘tappy’, 

Oh, the things that really make you  

Feel okay! (Hooray!) 

Now, lastly, there’s a rule we 

Should obey! (Obey!)

Makes everybody happy come 

What may! (What may!) 

Here's that rule (let’s put our mind to): Everyone I Will Be Kind To, 

We’ll all be happy and we’ll know it, 

Shout hurray! (Hurray!) 

Karen asks, "Write for me, please?"

We write because we like to please!

And we love her, you know that’s true,

So this is what we writers do . . .

We craft a poem based on a theme,

With pencils, sharp, and eyes agleam,

Each month we write and have such fun

We can't wait for another one,

With 'Shout Hurray!' how did I do?

Now, go and see the others, too:

Baking In A Tornado

Messymimi’s Meanderings

 

Getting Through

For four of her five years, she and her Mom,

Had happ’ly lived with us—a time of calm,

And every day her mom, with hug and kiss,

Would go to work and leave her little Miss.

So Tinesy Girl and me, we were a team,

To have her here with me was such a dream,

And, daily, we would eat and read and play,

Too soon her mom came home from her work day.

Now Tinesy Girl’s most favourite toy of all,

Was not a Pretty Pony or a doll,

Instead a little music box that sang,

With a little, purple phone (to speak or clang).

The phone, some days before, had disappeared,

Both Tinesy Girl and me, we'd searched and peered,

Unable to find out just where it went,

Decided it would show—we'd not lament!

Now, Mama was a theatre carpenter

Each day she took her to-ol box with her,

But on this day, she got a big surprise,

Among her big old tools, a phone—pint-sized.

She thought it had been wrongly so dispatched,

And brought it home, where it was quickly snatched,

Then gladly TG played with it till bed,

And when she went to sleep, t’was by her head!

Next day, when daughter got to work, she groaned,

Again, amongst her tools, was TG’s phone,

She smiled—got the message finally…

TG was telling Mom, "Please message me!"

Karen asks, "Write for me, please?"

We write because we like to please!

And we love her, you know that’s true,

So this is what we writers do . . .

We craft a poem based on a theme,

With pencils, sharp, and eyes agleam,

Each month we write and have such fun

We can't wait for another one,

With 'MESSAGE ME!' how did I do?

Please go and see the others, too:

Baking In A Tornado: Midnight Message       

Messymimi’s Meanderings  

The Texting Test

I’ve had a few now in my life,

Some are happy. Some cause strife,

Most are merely info passed,

With something someone wants broadcast,

A quick, efficient way to snoop,

By asking questions in your group,

I’m sure you’ve guessed by now, my friends

I’m talking ‘bout the texts we send…

My son-in-law first showed me how,

Soon chatting was the cat’s meow,

So easy just to type, then send,

No time on “How are you’s” to spend,

Just to the meat and then it’s done,

Of conversation, there is none,

Don’t get me wrong, I like to talk,

While we sit, or take a walk,

But sometimes all you need’s a phrase,

To inform or to liaise…

But I’ll stop there, you’ve had enough,

I’ll get to more important stuff,

The question asked, I’ll answer next

What has been my favourite text?

There’ve been so many, long and short,

Some make my cry, some make me snort,

Yes, I would have to say that’s hard,

Perhaps I’ll leave it to The Bard,

For ‘brief’ and ‘clever’ are a hit,

And: ‘Brevity is the soul of wit!’

Karen asks, "Write for me, please?"

We write because we like to please!

And we love her, you know that’s true,

So this is what we writers do . . .

We craft a poem based on a theme,

With pencils, sharp, and eyes agleam,

Each month we write and have such fun

We can't wait for another one,

With TEXTS this month, how did I do?

Please go and see the others, too:

Baking In A Tornado

Messymimi’sMeanderings

 

The Happy Place

When I was younger, I’d lean nearer,

My reflection in the mirror,

And study (not what you’d assume…)

The things behind me in that room.

 

Because I thought that other place, 

More intriguing than my space,

And golly, wouldn’t it be swell,

To go there and bid home farewell?

Just think of all the fun I’d find,

Adventures of the heart and mind,

Why, I could almost picture it,

As through the looking glass, I’d flit.

I did not know, I could not tell,

‘Twas a reflection, just a shell,

That ‘other room’ did not exist,

With my face floating in the midst.

And even if I managed it,

(Going there for just a bit)

Well, backward everything would be,

And I’d have trouble being me!

And so I put that dream away,

But brought it out just yesterday,

A great deal older now, I look,

Things still look good in that Mirror nook.

I couldn’t see the dust and litter,

No noise to make me squirm or skitter,

And backward everything may be,

But no more backward, now, than me! 

I wouldn't have to cook or clean,

I'd go in and come out lean!

So Through a Looking Glass you see,

Sounds like a perfect place for me!

This poem is part of a Monthly Poetry Challenge.

Each month a new theme is chosen.

This month's theme?

Through a Looking Glass!

Care to see what the others have done with the theme?

Look here! 

Baking In A Tornado: Look Again

Messymimi’sMeanderings 

 

Seeing the Specialist

 I needed an appointment,

My head just wasn’t fine,

And so I called the doctor,

They scheduled me for nine.

 

I went down to their building,

So far it all went well,

I walked into the office,

And rang the little bell.

 

The girl behind the counter,

She asked me who I was,

So I spelled out my name for her,

There was a little pause…

 

I told her I had problems,

Discomfort, bad, was mine,

She nodded, said, “Which doctor?”

I said ‘normal’ doc was fine.

Today is our Monthly Poetry Challenge.

Our topic? 

Making an Appointment

I love this!

Now go and see what my friends have created!

Karen at Baking in a Tornado

Mimi of Messymimismeanderings

Pandy

She looks toward me through a curtain of hair,

I wonder how much she can see? Does she care?

This doggins who’s taken control of my life,

Who plays when I’m happy and comforts through strife,

Makes sure aged joints will get their proper care

By pulling me outside into the fresh air,

She sits by my desk while I sweat o’er a page,

Patiently waiting her chance to engage,

Excited to go. In the car, she will hop,

Then wait endlessly while her dad and I shop,

She’s boundlessly patient, and waits for her turn,

E’en happily gobbles the bacon I burn,

Ready for ‘walkies’ each day just at dawn,

Well, she was born ready—I’ve got clothes to put on…

While she stares at the screen with her big, dark-brown eyes,

Does she figure it out and the mystery surmise?

When we’re done with the news, the day’s pretty much dead,

She’s glaring with purpose, “Come on! Get to bed!”

I wonder what we would be like—without her,

Would we miss licks and hugs and that cuddly fur?

Would we get out of bed before noon? (What a waste!)

Would it have to be me giving new foods a taste?

If we didn’t have Pandy to tow us along,

Would we get some fresh air and be healthy and strong?

What if she wasn’t with us for life’s greatest show?

I’m glad that, at present, I don’t have to know.

 

 

Welcome to our Monthly Poetry Challenge!

This month's topic? Animals

And what could be better than those who share their lives with us?

Excited for more?

Read what the other challengers have crafted!

The Zoo Chew by Karen of Baking In A Tornado 

Messymimi’sMeanderings

The Fight That Cheers

Our 4-H beef club, once a year,

Explored the cont’nent far and near,

We all looked forward to that trip,

The highlight of our membership.

 

The year that I was seventeen,

Washington State was to be seen,

A camp like none we’d had before,

With pool, amenities galore!

 

Each day we’d spend the sunlight hours,

Examine caves and trails and flowers.

At night back in our ‘crib’, we’d rule,

And splash and play in that new pool,

 

When we arrived, our convoy found,

When we had parked and looked around,

The campsites all were done just so,

With fire pits ready, set to glow.

 

The grasses clipped, the paths laid out,

Just needing kids to run and shout.

But the pool for us to plunge and caper?

Existed, true, but just on paper.

 

In sweltering heat, we gathered round,

That hole they’d dug there in the ground,

That someday in the coming time,

D’have boards to jump, ladders to climb.

 

None of which did us much good,

N’existe pas from where we stood,

And so, chagrined, we turned away,

To find another place to play.

 

One dad took pitcher—he would fill,

His radiator to the gills,

Another grabbed a nearby hose,

A stream of water from it rose.

 

And suddenly, a breathless pause,

In heat that draped like sticky gauze,

Those men each took the other in, 

And suddenly, they gave a grin.

 

I’m sure there’ve been more epic fights,

That really have put out the lights,

For us, there’s none that can compare,

As 4-H’ers defeat despair.

 

With buckets, pails and kitchen pots,

We flung lots of water. LOTS,

Till few were left e’en somewhat dry,

(To find these few, we sent out spies.)

 

Some moms had gathered by a tent,

And laughed as children came and went,

Secure that no one in the troop,

Would soak the mothers of the group.

 

My brother spied them sitting there,

With pleated dresses, curl-ed hair.

Twitt’ring like some little birds,

“No, George, NO!” were their last words.

 

An hour or so of laughing din,

Saw everyone soaked to the skin,

Then happ’ly cooled and tired from play,

We set up camp to end the day.

 

I learned that day there in those woods,

Some things don’t work out like they should,

But don’t despair, it’s not the end…

Cause ‘better’s’ just around the bend!

Today's post was a challenge from the inimitable and totally awesome Karen at Baking in a Tornado. 

Visit her and see what she’s done with the theme!

Craze-metics

 My eldest sister, sweet and kind,

So talented in deed and mind,

Has skills that never seem to end,

And some I cannot comprehend!

With all she does she still looks nice,

(I’ve noticed maybe once or twice.)

Cosmetics are her special gift,

To give her skin that crucial lift.

Morning routines, evening, too,

She knows how to apply the goo,

And look resplendent, glowing, young,

Till praises from our lips are sprung.

Those crèmes and gels to lave her face,

Her regimen requires space,

And one time when we two did roam,

Two bags she parked in our new 'home'.

A tiny one, with clothes and such,

This trip would not require much,

The other, larger, she did lug,

“Cosmetics.” She did happ’ly shrug.

I know her methods seem to work,

Her skin is glowing, hair so pert,

Make-up to show her features best,

With elegance, she clothes the rest.

I wouldn’t know which crème went where,

I’m lost with things for face and hair,

The one advantage I can see,

(Though I may resemble a banshee!)

But happily, when travel bound,

I’ve not so much to haul around!

Each month from Karen, we accept,

A challenge to our gifts adept,

A theme she gives, a poem we craft,

Write draft on draft on draft on draft.

(Please, I’m just kidding, one’s enough

To prove that we’ve all got The Stuff.)

So now we will present to you

What we have made for your review!

Karen at Baking in a Tornado