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.
