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The Food Fight. What Will We Do?

Salt & pepper.
A-season divine.
Most other roast.
Your thoughts with mine?
Shall we put on a stew?
Of veggies with that.
Boiling peas’n’cheese
in a grand derby hat.

What will we do?
If no meat can be found.
London Chuck Broil or Sir Top ’em Steak Round.
Oh, cheese & peas–
don’t sit there and spoil.
We’ll dress you up in some aluminum foil!

Now.
Clothes and food—
I’d rather a guess.
These cheese veggies like style—
no less.

What will we do?
If our food goes bonkers.
Sailing a river or
swimming to YONKERS!

We’ll find those Smores!
Make friends with Pairs!
And not to laugh at Cobbage,
In his green under-wares.

What about Toe-may-Toes?
My big red friends.
Tang-oh-ee tipping with Cornball Crane Hens.

We’ll use ’em Cornballs;
back apples that sneak.
‘Round Sunny Star Peaches
who Valley Tree speak.

Oh, this food mess!
I know I’ll find,
Chicken Popps biking at Oatmeal-Pork Rhind.

All of you…
SCATTER!
SLIP ON SOME MILK!
And dance like those wafers who all dress in silk.

It’s no wonder.
Next time I’ll be.
Dressing my food—
Grade-A.
Fancy!

Copyright-2012-M.D.

 
2 Comments

Posted by on 02/28/2012 in The word roll

 

Ice Cream For Mother!

I scream for Mother.
After his nose starts sneezing.
“Oh, Brother!” I’ll say,
“Looks like you’re freezing!”

Never I’d guess.
After he melts she’ll find.
Her shoes sticking to son,
and this Brother of mine.
What does he look like?—
a wet wig of goo.
Try maybe a big plop of ice cream.
Dog Do!

Slop up the couch!
No fruity flavor to me.
Just try to be my Brother,
Oh, the mess I see!

Now staring at Mother.
Her look I soon forget.
You’re melting into a nightmare.
Even ice cream would not let.

“Mother!” I scream,
“Get out the cones!
We can scoop him up…
Without any bones.”

I taste you one time.
No worry today.
Brothers are wasteful.
Any way.

Don’t try to be vanilla.
I find it way too plain.
Next time I scream,
“Brother…!”
Be a candy cane.

Copyright-2012-M.D.

 
2 Comments

Posted by on 02/17/2012 in The word roll

 

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The Wabbit Tale

Big Sister, Kate!
Don’t laugh at me.
Or I might become a Wabbit.
See…?

I’ll hop around.
And break things in the house.
‘Coz being a Wabbit;
It’s like bigger than a mouse.

“How?”
You might ask…
“Will this Wabbit be?”
When you only stand a quarter of three?

I’ll sneak to the bathroom.
You know the one upstairs.
When Nobody’s Home.
And Nobody’s There.

I’ll mix Dad’s Cotton Lint after-shave lotion.
To start this special, Wabbit Mix Potion.
There’s Peppermint Spray!
For Mom’s slouching kind.
Throw in some fluff-tail,
hair-mix-n-find…
Me busy about.
Putting it all in.
More Moose Gather Lather!
With Sprint Seed Finn!

At last with a ruffle,
huffle breath and two.
Would I like me Wabbit–
GWEEN or BLUE?
For that I’ll fix eye shadow;
with a taste and all.
Some Elephant Quick.
To grow ten-feet tall!

With a bang and clatter—
puffing you’ll see!
Your Little Brother Sam,
rather too grandly.
Oh!
When you think and tell me, “DON’T MOVE!”
That’s when my wabbit tale will start the groove.

Knocking over chairs.
And dishes that be.
My over-sized paws running…
so wildly.
All through the living room.
And into the den.
I’ll start chewing on Dad’s book-case.
THEN…

Gather a lunch.
The ‘fridge must hold!
All yummy rather things a Wabbit
tummy wants cold:

Carrots and celery and peas
with fruit chews.
Anything that’s all-natural.
That I can use!
I’ll eat and stuff ’till I can’t eat anymore.
Then SQUEEEEEEEEZE OUT OF THE HOUSE.
Out the back door!

You’ll chase me ’round.
Want me small once again?
“OHHHHHHH!!!” You cry.
“SAM!!! I’M NOT YOUR FRIEND!!!”

I’ll merely chuckle.
Falling a-sleep with a snore.
The size of which
this town can’t ignore.

I’ll sleep ’till the radio,
news people come around.
Telling them about
this strange sight they’ve found:
Little Brother Sam.
So big as a Wabbit.
Just because Kate.
You made laughing a habit.

Copyright–2012–M.D.

 
2 Comments

Posted by on 02/13/2012 in The word roll

 

A Change of Menu

Goobers-a-dog!
What does he do?
Throws around his chow
After one bite or two.

Goobers-a-dog!
What’s wrong with your food?
Don’t you like anything I haven’t over-stewed?

I’ve given you everything.
Tried A-to-Z’s.
Even mixed your favorite, Fried Banana Burger Fleas.
But, Goobers-a-dog!
He’ll bark and crimp
Even if I give him Roast Onion Corn Chimp.

No Orange-U-tang chef
or tall man cook,
knows how to make this—
I’ll go right to the book.
Look here, Goober,
I’m talking to you!
Holding out Blue Fish-Cotton Warmed Hoo.
From the sweet waters off Cape Ripple Sound.
Has now been caught lolly-popping around.

OH! You don’t like Hoo!
Then boo to that.
I’ll just throw it to Mustard,
Our Calico cat.
That swallowed the Hoo
and now has…WHAT!
Mustard has a case of LUMP LIVER GUT!!!

Our cat runs and flips
with calico tears,
Singing about seeing one-hundred pink bears.

Oh, no, Goober!

Now look what you’ve done!

Won’t you eat anything?

Just for fun.

I’ll slice some butter
for cold salad whip,
made of rice other than
leg-ooh-me hip.
Top those black berries
and cram on the cream.
Now stirring it all into some fresh-sour steam.

If that won’t do.
Now—
We’ve got a plan!

How ’bout dog food, Goober.

Eat like a man!

–copyright2012 M.D.

 
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Posted by on 02/02/2012 in The word roll

 

Celebrating Chinese New Year

Wishing peace and love to all on Chinese New Year. May our children grow worry-free. Let them inspire other children to love the way civilization intended. Let’s reach out through photo, word and hand. Delivering that human promise by cultural love and diversity, free speech finding a way to our wordly brothers and sisters looking for harmony.

 
2 Comments

Posted by on 01/23/2012 in The word roll

 

Some Luck With The Weather

Has anyone noticed a big change showing about? It comes in the form of Spring-like temperatures right smack in the early light of Winter. Here in the Northeastern United States, every season has that unique feel for every person, and that’s fine for the great of man. But for one sole occupant here at remostrainbarn, this whole situation feels pretty darn strange.

For all that it’s worth, praise should be given to who and whatever is behind all this. We can’t see it, but we can definitely feel it. Ahhh! 56 degrees when you step out in the morning or afternoon or evening! A few days of relief for commuter and transit worker, and anyone else who must deal with elements on the hourly. Something is finally kind to all those who keep the city going on rails and tires. And after last Winter’s brutal assault, one would certainly wish continued luck for those in service everyday—bus driver, train operator, conductor.

In the weather’s translation, as a keen observer of these things, the cold feel is not there. The cold: a pulsating, driving force that guarantees a badge of honor for standing up to it. It’s nice to think us hearty, Northeasterners have been given a gift. On the same token one can’t let their guard down. While enjoying for what it’s worth, M.N. is a tricky girl. She has smiled up us, but be careful when she winks.

 
4 Comments

Posted by on 01/10/2012 in The word roll

 

Your Daily Top Five Commute Picks…Monday’s Flavor

#1 “Sultans of Swing” — Dire Straits

#2 “Black Coffee In Bed”  — Squeeze

#3 “I Can’t Hold Back” — Survivor

#4 “Rockin’ Heaven Down”– Heart

#5 “The Golden Road” — Grateful Dead

 
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Posted by on 01/09/2012 in The word roll

 
 
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