Dumb Poem Collection - # 25 through # 36
Why oh why?
Continuing with the consolidation of my many dumb poems, here is the third collection of twelve dumb poems in the series.
As you might imagine, each of the little poems has some sort of reason for its having been written. It is more than acceptable to me that you may want to invent your own versions for each of them, but I’ll play it fair and square and tell you what the deals really were. Here they are in order:
The one about the dull-witted sheep was to be sent along to the good folks in Limerick, Maine, a little place whose folks claimed they were lacking in limericks. Limerick, Maine, used to be a textile town, hence the blanket thing.
The kid kangaroo that cussed at the bee that stung him jumped out of that old expression that kids are to be seen but not heard. Please do not ask me why that came to mind.
I was reminded of some of those little mysteries, the envelopes, the sugar packages, and the doggie bags, among others, as I tried to open an envelope with all of that self-sticking glue junk that is next to impossible to overcome.
Ahh – the letter from home... Honestly, now, that was the actual answer I sent to one of my sisters who had mailed her yearly family history tales (5 pages, single-spaced typing) to me. Call my reply my year’s summary.
Oh-oh! The cold feet thing. Don’t tell Esther on me, please.
When the King Tut exhibit hit town, so did the words for that cockroach tale.
The one about the "Motorman" is some remembering of Allison Sanders, the "Motorman" of his "In Houston" newspaper column. Allison was a funny guy who was older than granite, but he still toiled on. He worked at the Houston Chronicle, since maybe even before it was begun. When the original owner sold the newspaper, he made it part of the sales contract that "Motorman" could never be fired. In effect, Allison Sanders died with his wheels still rolling along.
O’Daniel’s steel outhouse became a thought during the thunderstorm that blew out all the lights as I was trying to think of what to write.
"Bum" is Bum Phillips, longtime and beloved coach of the now gone Houston Oilers football team; I was his and his team’s devoted fan. Back then, most of us were football nuts. Those were the days of "Luv ya Blue," the team’s song and our rallying cry.
Sherlock was, of course, Sherlock Holmes, the creation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Sherlock’s buddy was Watson, to whom Sherlock was forever saying, "It’s elementary, my dear Watson."
The banker poem was the result of my just having read "On banking," that very funny poem by Ogden Nash. Ogden was a real dumb poem writer. My goal is to beat him at his own game.
Roots was my take-off of the well-known "Roots" novel.
Now you know how these things can happen. Perhaps you did not want to know, but, for a fact, I was bound and determined to tell you, anyway.
The illustrations are by my friend, Al Kaeppel. The way he came up with them is an indication that Al is as big a nutcase as I am. He simply read the dumb poems and there came the cartoons without another word from me. Al is far better with serious art, but oil paintings don’t go so well with doggerel, now do they?
The Naked Sheep
A dull-witted sheep ambled through.
That's something a smart sheep won't do.
His hair's now a blanket.
Did anyone thank it
or say to him, "don't catch the flu?"
Kids Should be Seen and Not Heard
A kangaroo kid stuck his head from the pouch,
was stung by a bee, and he didn't say "ouch."
Have you ever wondered why they make
envelopes whose seals won't break,
or sugar bags that have three layers
with the wrong one always full of tears,
and doggie bags that people take?
Letter From Home
There's a pretty flower on the vine,
a new bird in the tree.
Our old tomcat just ate the fish.
that's all the news from me.
But She Has Cold Feet
My wife, Esther,
She was a find -
one of a kind.
(With me, God blessed her.)
King Tut's Cockroaches
They're tough as nails -
those six-legged snails !
they pester me.
All bug spray fails !
Dollar a Day and No Change
On days of work, the Motorman
walked to where his ride began.
Then, on steel wheels, now memories,
he'd roll on tracks, fast as you please.
This lasted years, a habit started
so, even now, with tracks departed,
Motorman, his feet rotating,
gets around by roller-skating.
O'Daniel, successful with farming,
decided to make his place charming.
He built an outbuilding
of steel, with gold gilding.
Come lightning, to use it's alarming.
"Football coaching's my whole life -
weekday play and weekend strife.
What a way to earn a living.
Football's fun but unforgiving."
"You don't remember? Such a shame!
It's elementary, ‘What's-your-name’ !"
The First National Bank
"Our loaning of money is brisk
as long as we see there's no risk.
Don't come in here busted.
You'll just not be trusted.
Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk!"
Onions have such funny skin.
It's cruddy, flaky, and quite thin.
Their stink's enough to make me weep,
as is their cost - it's much too steep.
My love for them must be a sin.
More by this Author
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