Monday, February 24, 2014

I'm mad at the Moon
She hasn't much sense
She comes at my bedtime
And sits on my fence
And then starts to act
Like a silly balloon -
And that's why
And that's why
I'm mad at the Moon!

She plays peek-a-boo
With some clouds in the sky
Or hide-and-go-seek
With a tree that's nearby
Then sends lots of Moonbeams
To dance in my room -
And that's why
And that's why
I'm mad at the Moon!

She loves to dress up
Like a silly old clown
Or look like an orange
All juicy and round
Sometimes she's a slice of
A lemon for tea
Or just a big grin
That is laughing at me!

I've seen her race stars
All across a black sky
I've seen birds make marks
On her cheek or her eye
But she keeps on smiling
That silly old loon
Oh, sometimes it's hard
To stay mad at the Moon!

If only she'd come
When I'm up in the day
Then I would gladly
Come outside and play
But that's when she chooses
To sleep in her room
And that's why
And that's why
I'm mad at the Moon

But somehow tonight
She has not come at all
And I must admit
That I miss her sweet call
If only she'll promise
To hurry back soon
I'll never more 
Be mad at the Moon!

*Sorry my (mean ol') computer won't allow me to add all my illustrations to 
this poem you will just have to use your imagination. Sorry sorry sorry. :(

Friday, February 21, 2014

Lent is fast approaching:

A Catholic Girl
by me,

(A brief autobiography)

I was raised in a convent, with nuns as my teachers,
And lots of monsignors and priests as my preachers.
I am NOT amused to have my faith made sport of
For I'm a Good Catholic Girl ... (er … well … sort of),

My life is a penance to work out on Earth,
With no room for romps, for amusements or mirth,
I don't go to bars or wear black patent shoes
That reflect my undies, don't swear or drink booze.

I'm prim and I'm proper, in fact, I'm a saint
(And I'll kill anybuddy who sez that I ain't!)

I'll bet some carouse lots, from Mondays to Mondays,
And dally in sin, and I bet that on Sundays
They don't go to mass or get in holy ruts
And they think that us Catholic Girls are all nuts.

Easy for them to go dissing the Pope
And saying a Catholic Girl is a dope
Who gives up her cookies, (no, I mean for Lent),
While the likes of these others just never repent

But are free to sin freely and never confess it,
Or beg for a priest to forgive and God bless it -
They most likely have lots of men on a string,
And go out each night on a wild, carefree fling!

Life, for such people's a mad, joyous whirl,
Without all the guilt of a Catholic Girl -

But a Catholic Girl 
Knows if she's living WELL
And ENJOYING her life,
She will go straight to Hell!

Thursday, February 13, 2014

It's snowing ... AGAIN!
'Sno Fun!

Is there anything nicier,
sugar 'n spicier,
anything more sweet or grandish,
than to see falling snow
setting all hearts aglow,
making everything so Fairylandish?

Each flake makes me quiver
with wonder,
I shiver
as softly I sing "Jingle Bells" -
ah, the beauty, the thrill,
as it climbs up my sill
with its luscious white whipped-creamy swells.

I give up counting flakes,
each succeeding one makes
a more mountainous mound out my door.
Why does it keep falling?
It's getting appalling!
I'll never get out any more!

Now the power's gone <bleat>,
no TV and no heat,
and my batteries are down to two!
Won't someone please stop it?!
I can't see atop it -
the snowplows can't even get through!

They'll find me next Spring
frozen to everything,
what the heck am I going to do?!
I have had it!
Who invented this stuff?
You know,
I just hate snow,
don't you?