Another challenge on our message board. If you would like to participate, come to the board. I post a challenge every weekend and you'll find the link HERE. When you get there, click 'General Board' and the topics will appear.

I put a list of things, or items, that must appear in the poem. Each item must have its own stanza and the poem must have a theme. Participants must use at least 5 words from the list, or they may use all.

They don't see a picture until the page is published.



This is the list for this weekend (1-5-08)


*


stock


calendar


linoleum


shattering


persnickety


"Snowballs for sale...."

red socks


The poems are very imaginative and quite different from each other. I thought the results were very good and if you like what you read, let the poet know. We love feedback.







January Sale



Cara walked up to the door of her antique store wearing her red socks.
She was ready for her January sale, and one item that was always a hit was her mystery Christmas box.



The calendar on the wall showed that the new year was underway.
She had all the overstock neatly on display.



The freshly mopped linoleum sparkled in the January sun,
And she was ready for customers to buy, yes, each and every one.



She had a table set up with refreshments that would please even her most persnickety personnel.
Just then she heard a familiar ring; it was her cell.



In the background, she heard a shattering of glass.
Her friend, Celia, had just knocked off an antique vase at her shop down the road, alas.



"Oh dear", Celia moaned over the phone.
Then she laughed as she looked outside; "I will make a sign to hang in the window "Snowballs for sale...", do you have a shovel you want to loan?"



By Phyllis Ann (Starbird55@comcast.net)



Snowballs for Sale



Hey Will look at that lineoleum
We need to buy new flooring
He replied, Yes Ma'am
You I am ignoring


Hey Will Look at the calendar
You need to get the storm windows up
Next week, he replied, My Dear
That sure got her dander up


He heard some shattering
As she three at him a dish
Quit all that chattering
He silently did wish


She started getting persnickety
When he didn't do the chore
And climbed on a ladder rickety
Under her breath she swore


He pulled on his red socks
Put on boots and coat
Went to the barn unlocked the locks
Fed the chickens and goat


She noticed as she glanced outside
The sign that he had made
A large one it was, quite wide
SNOWBALLS FOR SALE, nobody paid


Idiot she yelled though he didn't hear
Taking stock of the day
Her husband had gone mad she did fear
His brain had gone away



By Sharon (Sunyskys1943@aol.com)



Snowballs for Sale



The calendar read 1948 and it hung upon the wall
Mama was persnickety and the red socks Daddy bought
Had to perfectly match the pattern on kitchen linoleum.
There was a big blizzard that December
And nearly 27" of snow fell on the ground
Ice shattered the glass in the tenement skylight
While Frannie kept busy making snowballs for sale.
Mama said to get inside as it was too cold
To stand out there making snowballs
We do not need the money Mama said
My stocks are doing well.
Frannie knew for sure Mama had no stocks
So she kept making snowballs and sold them
To boys on the street engaged in snowball fights.
She came in that night with $5.00 in her frozen fingers
Made from selling snowballs at two cents apiece.
The boys said it was good to have ready-made
Snowballs and that's how they beat the ruffians
Who lived on the next street.



By Frannie (Frannie516@comcast.net)



Snowballs for Sale



Looking in the pantry,
Kind of taking stock.
Twenty kinds of Jello,
But hardened like a rock.


New calendar from the funeral home
Hanging on the kitchen wall.
The undertaker was so cheap
He'd skip some months in the fall.


Looking down at the linoleum,
The floor was kind of sticky.
A puddle of Coca-Cola
Made walking kind of tricky.


The front door-bell chimed out
Shattering the quiet.
Not expecting anyone now,
Avon calling? She wasn't gonna buy it!


Maybe it was her neighbor.
The persnickety one down the street.
Complaining about her cats,
Stalking his dog, name of Pete.


Opened the door, a kid was standing there.
"Snowballs for sale" said he.
He showed her a beautiful round one,
"Here is a sample...it's free!"


She couldn't stop herself laughing.
Put on her boots and red socks.
She followed the kid outside,
And snowballs...? She bought the whole box!



By Swampetta (SWAMPETTA@aol.com)



Snowballs for Sale



She wore those red socks everywhere,
To the corner grocery, the park, the Chanticlear.
They were faded, ragged, and bunched around her ankles,
But she wore them like a model wearing wrist bangles.


She was a persnickety old woman who lived alone,
No family, no friends, but owned her home.
She owned a cat, too, a fat Tabby cat.
Tabby sat on the front window ledge, on a ragged blue mat.


The kitchen floor was linoleum, and was seldom mopped,
On it were hair balls, food spills, popcorn that hadn't popped.
Every Wednesday morning, 'Red Sock Ruth' would walk to town.
She would pay her bills then amble around.


Ruth kept a calendar hanging on her wall,
Each year she would get a free one from the bank at the mall.
She would circle every Wednesday of every month in red,
Then hang it where it could easily be read.


Through the years Ruth bought stock in Chanticlear bank,
And kept the certificates in a neat yearly rank.
She drew up a will and named Tabby the beneficary,
Tabby's guardian was no other than bank president, Larry.


Ruth loved pasteries but she loved money more,
On her trips to the bank, she would pass a bakery store.
Today she saw a sign in the window - "Snowballs for sale,"
It excited her so she dropped her mail.


Coconut confections - she hadn't had a snowball in years,
Not since she was a little girl living in Edgemere.
She entered the shop, bought a dozen,
Remembering how she used to buy them and share with her dear dead cousin.


The townspeople were shocked over Ruth's heart attack,
The poor thing had only gone to the bank and back.
That afternoon, Tabby was seen on a front porch step,
Licking coconut off his paws, feeling quite hep.


Ruth's house sold within a week,
Tabby was whisked off to a high-rise on Manhattan's 175th Street.
Tabby rides in a chauferred limo these days,
And eats coconut snowballs, which he craves.



By Marilyn (LaraOct7@aol.com)



Snowballs for Sale



Saturday morning as I took stock of things,
Joe was moving the stock to another field,
Just another January day, I was tired, come what may,
As another new year had come our way.


The calendar said it was the fifth, it was,
As I stretched and looked about,
Snow to shovel, coffee to make,
And I hoped the paper was here.


Danged old linoleum getting old,
Got it nailed down in twenty-seven places,
Been meaning to replace it,
Maybe next year I will get to it.


Then I heard a shattering sound,
“Dang Joe done crashed the tractor,” I said,
As I put coffee in the pot,
That was followed by a shattering scream.


There was a knock on the door,
Some persnickety lady a standing there,
“Your dang cows are in my yard!"
I looked at her and tried not to laugh.


I don’t know why but I did,
Looked at her and then with a smile said,
“Snowballs for sale, dollar a dozen,
Or a gross for twenty dollars."


She sneered and looked down at my red socks,
“You must be a damn communist,” she said
As I said in a stern voice,
“Lady, I ain’t got no cows.”


So now I sit in this cell,
Thirty days for playing the fool.
Seems I was not serious enough,
As my grandma had heard enough.



By Tom (TOMWYO@aol.com)



Snowball Town



There's leaking on the linoleum
Power's been out too long
Something must be done
Even if it's wrong.


"Snowballs for sale" sign
Bodes silly in July
As if it wasn't taken down
After winter's ice supply.


Crowds for the Red Socks game
Have already started arriving.
And Nowball Town's only drawing card
Will seem to be just contriving.


For there are persnickety people
Who are literal at the very best.
They will turn their noses up
So we must stand up to the test.


Get those shattering freezers fixed
And go to the snow cone stand.
Safe face by buying a thousand snow balls,
Mop up the water - dry it if you can.


We've got to save our business
Or lock, stock, and barrel we'll lose it,
For we'll not have snow balls in July,
Snow Ball Town - the tourists won't choose it.


The boys and girls of winter
Can't turn the calendar away
And get paid a penny a snowball
To freeze for the town's summer days.



By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)



 

              

 

              

 

 

January ( 8 Authors )



Morning Chats



My Baking Memories



Who Lives Here? ( 11 Authors )



Resolutions ( 7 Authors )



A New Year's Poem



Tears in December






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