A Not-So-Necessary Evil?

To the tune of Leonard Cohen's glorious 'Hallelujah'.
With apologies...

For forty years, I went without,

I planned ahead,

I thought things out,

I thought it just another strange breakthrough, yeah.

But then I laid my hands on one,

E'en on the road,

I got things done,

And from my lips there came an Hallelujah!

Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

Hallelujah . . .

Back then it seemed to help my life,

With books and games

By bright backlight,

(Though heaven knows that Facebook will outdo ya,)

I’d follow what the others do,

And check email, the weather, too,

And still there came from me an Hallelujah.

Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

Hallelujah . . .

Maybe there’s a God above,

Perhaps cell phones

Were made with love,

But now I’d like to bid the thing adieu, yeah.

I want it far away from me,

Someday, I’ll throw it in the sea,

Then from my lips a heartfelt Hallelujah!

Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

Hallelujah . . .

Cause Mondays do get knocked a lot
With poetry, we all besought,
To try to make the week being
With pleasant thoughts,
Perhaps a grin?
So all of us, together, we
Have crafted poems for you to see.
And now you've read what we have wrought,
Did we help?
Or did we not?

Jenny
Mother Owl
Mimi
Merry Mae

Come back next week, because our rhyme,
Will be about the theme of TIME!

The Ice Cream Idiot

Dad’s been telling stories again . . .

This . . .

Plus this . . .

Plus this . . .

Plus this . . .

And finally, this.

He had just left his newborn daughter and her mother sleeping happily at the hospital.

The newly-minted father stepped out into the sunshine and grinned.

He needed to celebrate.

He stood there for a moment.

Then it hit him. What better way to celebrate then with a dish of ice cream at the Spudnut Shop?

Soon he was standing in the familiar café, studying the menu on the wall.

Hmm . . . he’d always wanted to try the Idiot Sundae.

He took a deep breath and grinned.

Perfect!

He stepped to the counter and placed his order.

“Just take a seat, sir,” the soda jerk said. “We’ll bring it right out.”

He did.

And they did.

Now I should probably mention, here, that the Idiot Sundae was a concoction of twenty large scoops of various flavours of ice cream. With all of the fixings.

All. Of. The. Fixings.

And one spoon.

The . . . platter . . . was brought out.

And slid carefully onto the table in front of him.

Heaven.

Another grin as he picked up the spoon.

And started working his way through the melting mound of deliciousness.

He did well.

One scoop after another disappeared.

Finally, there were only three scoops left.

He stared at them.

Three scoops.

He groaned.

He.

Just.

Couldn’t.

Do.

It.

He dropped the spoon in defeat.

So close.

So very close.

And today, almost 65 years later, he remembers those three scoops left melting in the dish.

And wonders.

Was he an idiot for leaving them?

Or just an idiot for ordering in the first place.

You decide . . .