To The VIM (Very Important Males) in My Life

The Youngest

Three males have had a major effect on my life. As each embodies a unique style,I felt that it would be appropriate to construct three poems that differ stylistically. The first poem represents my young grandson. The other two, I hope, speak for themselves.


My hero these days is a young man named

Pete,

Who’s learning to stand on his own two (big)

Feet,

While turning to Mom, Dad, and Big Sister,

Too,

For lots of support, hugs, and good times.

(It’s true.)

This boy is a virtual artist

At six:

A knack for creating is one of

His tricks.

He draws superheroes-well, just like a

Pro....

(Where that talent comes from,

I truly don’t

Know.)

He battles the Naughty Guys

(Just for pretend)

Since each Superhero’s

Considered his

Friend.

Builds structures with Legos

With little

Assistance,

And manages bedtime without much

Resistance.

The hurricane struck, and he helped sweep

The deck.

(Although when the lights went out.... he was

A wreck.)

He’s t-ball proficient ( like many young

Boys)

And fairly

Efficient

At cleaning up

Toys.

He likes to play games on his Leapster

And Wii,

And hates when he loses.

He’d much rather

Be

The Boy Superhero.

(He’s starting to learn

That all Caped Crusaders must wait for

Their turn.)

He’s funny, and pensive, and clever,

And sweet....

If ever you meet him,

You’re in for

A treat!

To R.A.L.

If I woud try to list my “I love Thee’s,”

I’d (maybe) get as far as number 2,

When you would feign a cough and/or a sneeze,

And end up looking somewhere near your shoe.

If I’d begin to verbalize the ways

You’ve managed to improve with every year,

You’d open up the newspaper and gaze

Beyond my eyes with, “what’s for dinner, Dear?”

If I’d recite all that you mean to me,

And count the many things that you’vr done right,

You’d turn bright pink and mumble tenderly,

“I”d better do the income tax tonight.”

Embarrassing to hear how I love you?

Then let it just suffice to say,”I do.”

In Memoriam: A Memory

Tell me there’s no

Santa Claus,

And I’ll tell you

You’re wrong.

For I knew one

for a long

long time.

My Santa

wore a business suit,

drove a Buick,

and lived in a nice house,

all of which he earned by working

Hard.

He had a wife

two kids,

and a dog that resembled

a frankfurter with feet.

My Santa

taught me that

you can make lists of dreams

and hope they’ll come true

as long as

you

do your part

to make it happen.

He also taught me that

You have to feed the reindeer

And put gas

In the sleigh.

A Santa?

It's really plain to see.

If there hadn't been a

Santa

There wouldn't be

A me.


More by this Author


Comments 5 comments

snakeslane profile image

snakeslane 5 years ago from Canada

These are so sweet PatriciaTL, you have a down to earth, clever and touching way of showing your deep love and pride in these awesome men in your life. Regards, snakeslane


PatriciaTL profile image

PatriciaTL 5 years ago from Lehigh Valley Author

Thanks, snakelane. I thought I'd try a different approach for this one.


couturepopcafe profile image

couturepopcafe 5 years ago

Rhyming poetry is not as easy as it might seem. You've managed to convey your messages while maintaining excellent meter. Well done. (Also quite touching)


RVDaniels profile image

RVDaniels 5 years ago from Athens, GA

Really good, I enjoyed this.


PatriciaTL profile image

PatriciaTL 5 years ago from Lehigh Valley Author

Your supportive comments are very much appreciated, coutrepopcafe and RVDaniels. I've always enjoyed the challenge of writing rhyming poetry that also has meter and a message.

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