*North is the direction the back porch faced,
With a lovely view over a wide field,
And across which icy winter winds raced,
Unimpeded, not one tree as a shield.
There was often frost on each window pane,
For loose *frames allowed cold air to enter.
Clear vinyl sheets were attached, but in vain,
And it was an unused space in winter.
Prior to *December, there was some heat
That seeped in through the open parlor door,
But, by Christmas, we would suffered cold feet,
Despite a thick wool carpet on the floor.
That’s where we served cold sandwiches and *punch
On the holidays, when relatives came.
Mama set up sort of a buffet lunch,
It seems every year it was the same.
Once, my cousins Bob, Matthew and Hortense
Went out onto the freezing porch to play;
Though Aunt Jane said they were *“.…lacking good sense.”
They drew frost pictures for much of the day.
When I was *twelve, Dad added a woodstove,
And insulated the porch nice and snug.
Not too long after that, we had to move –
The house burned down when embers lit the rug.
© By Richard McCusker (rmrickmack@aol.com)
Coming Up December
I looked *North to find the pole.
A visit with Santa today.
My Ford slid into a huge pothole.
Now I know why he uses a sleigh.
The reindeers wanted a *frame
To put around Rudolph's red nose.
To him it was all the same.
They follow wherever he goes.
A busy month is *December.
What with Christmas and Hanukah loot.
To pay the bills you should remember,
Before the landlord gives you the boot.
Sip slowly the holiday *punch.
It's mostly vodka and gin.
You'll be hammered just before lunch.
What a wonderful state to be in!
I want a new car for my birthday
The Troll said that's ....*"Lacking good sense."
Well, you know what they say...
"It's a matter of dollars and cents."
The *twelve days of Christmas,
Is eleven too many for me.
These days I tend to spend less.
But I expect more don't you see?
© By Swampetta (SWAMPETTA@aol.com)
Coming Up December
Way up *north where it gets so cold
Some people are so bold,
They do not know
They are cold.
Their *frame shimmies,
Their *frame shakes,
Actually they are in
One heck of a mess.
But in *December when
The temperature does drop,
They increase their antifreeze
And wear more clothes.
Saw one at a party,
The *punch was pure 181,
But they by then
Were just rum dumb.
*Lacking in good sense
Is what some say,
Wonder how they will fare
In late January?
*Twelve months have the year,
But do not shed a tear,
For in the summer when it is warm,
They are hot since they have the DT’s.
If one comes down south,
They are so weak from the heat
They cannot use their mouth,
So they shake and wither away.
But then sometimes in July,
They sober up and
Look about,
“Life is so bad to them, they do it again.
© By Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)
Coming Up December
Knew we all were *lacking good sense,
So we opted for a Mexican food lunch,
Cut up like kids the rest of the day,
Tho one son had an early morn hunch.
Went across town, bought a clock in a *frame,
That chimes Christmas tunes on the hour.
One after one, all three clocks chimed,
The grandfather, bird, the new deer and snow shower.
The *north wind was howling,
Though in our strong house
Full of enchiladas and tacos and flautas
We stayed warm without the mall browse.
*December comes this Monday,
So must home cleanup time.
I wonder how long it will take
To clean after company’s grime. [actually they didn’t leave grime - it just fit the line.]
Been up for at least *twelve hours,
Walking around in a sort of blue fog,
Though age takes over you don’t have to rush,
We’ll snap back, just me and my dog.
© By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)
