Well-Versed

There's nothing like having visitors coming to get you motivated to clean house. With Becky's family arriving in about two weeks, I've started trying to get things more presentable around here, and attacked the spare bedroom yesterday. In cleaning off the bookshelf, I found a small journal where I used to write down poems, my own and some I read in various books. I'd forgotten about a few (Fair Weather Friends, being one), and had a great time re-reading all of them, laughing out loud a lot. Camie liked hearing them too. I thought my sister Sara, who reads my blog would get a laugh out of these, as she helped with some of them, and was even the inspiration for one. So if you're in the mood for silly or corny poetry (I guess verse would be a better word, since none of it is very poetic), read on.

When I was 15 or 16 we had a mutt name Beauregard, Beau for short, who chewed up all kinds of things in the yard. When we would step out on the porch, Beau would pick out of one of his treasures and bring it to us.

Beauregard

Beauregard has in his yard
A variety of things.
Sticks and stones
And prickly cones
Are some of what he brings.
He chews them up
That little pup,
and leaves them strewn about.
And straightway brings a little "gift"
When someone ventures out."
-----By Mom, Sara, and Rose, '95 or '96

~~~
For those familiar with the Advanced Training Institute (ATI) homeschool program, you no doubt have heard of ALERT  (Air, Land, Emergency Resource Team), a military-type training for teen boys. ALERT always had  a big graduation ceremony at the yearly conference, while EXCEL (EXcellence in Character, Education, and Leadership), the teen girls' program got a lot less fanfare. But then EXCEL was sort of a glorified home-ecs class from what I gathered (I never went to it), so it lacked the zest of cadences and marching, flag bearing, uniforms, etc. Sara and I wrote this song with quite a bit of sarcasm.

ALERT
(To the tune of "Turkey in the Straw")

There's the army and the navy and of course the air force too
And there's ATI standing bright in their white and blue.
But the pet and pride of ATI in Knoxville standing tall,
Are the sharp, the brave ALERT young men.
Let's cheer them one and all.

Chorus:
A-L-E-R-T, that spells the best.
A-L-E-R-T, forget all the rest.
We march, we fly airplanes, and we're out to save the world.
We memorize 1st Peter
(And we're terrified of girls.)

In the Northwoods where we're stationed
We all are tough and strong.
If the weather's bad, we just for fun,
Go marching all day long.
And at night when the temperature
Is 59 below,
With 60 pounds strapped on our backs
We frolic in the snow.

Chorus.

For all disasters and catastrophes
That citizens might face
We sacrifice our time and strength
To help those in distress.
Oh, whatever is the challenge, we ALERT men do it well.
And that's why we're deserving of the ladies from EXCEL.

Chorus.
---Sara and Rose Roberts, 8/17/97

~~~
A four lane highway was being built by our house when I was 17. Three bridges, two lanes each, had to be constructed within sight of our home. The giants machine/crane started at about dawn pounding the concrete pilings that supported the bridges. It could almost drive you mad hearing the rhythmic "wham....wham.....wham....wham...." all day long. On rainy days the work had to stop until things dried out again. Ahh, those silent rainy days.

Fair-Weather Friends

Fair weather, sun is smiling.
A soft breeze ripples through the leaves.
Fair weather, piler's driving.
It marks time till the workmen leave.

On fair days when nature is calm,
Fresh and clean with quiet light,
The workmen start at nearly dawn,
And pound till nearly night.

Stormy weather; rain is driving.
A wild wind rips through the leaves.
Stormy weather; no piler's driving.
The thunder marks time till the quiet leaves.

On stormy days, nature all unsmiling
Wet and muddy, bolts of light.
The workmen stop, they drive no piling.
No sound from them till the sun shines bright.

I've learned to treasure stormy days.
Some dislike constant rain.
But they're more peaceful than quiet days
When constant driving drives me insane.

~~~
This one, written when I was 19, I think must have been inspired by some child I was babysitting.

When you meet a little girl
Who is selfish and somewhat whiny,
Save yourself and her some grief,
And whack her on the hiney.
---Rose, 8/99

~~~
And here's the one about Sara. Our older brother called her Mrs. Webster, as in Webster's Dictionary, because she liked using big words. I wrote in my journal above this poem that she would get indignant and say, "It's not Mrs. it's Miss." And then she'd add, "Why am I saying that? My name is not even Webster."  Our brother thought it was so funny that she got so caught up in correcting the title, that she defended the name.

Because of her great knowledge
Of words four inches long,
We call her Mrs. Webster,
But in this she says we're wrong.

Oh she knows her definitions
And the words that with them go.
She can usually spell them
And pronounce them like a pro.

So you see that we're mistaken
In calling our dear sis
By the name of Mrs. Webster,
For it's Webster with a "Miss".

~~~~
And that concludes our Poetry Circle tonight. Thank you for attending. A donation basket will be at the door as you leave.

~~Rose


PS---Totally unrelated to poems, but pretty funny:
Micah was asking the blessing the other day. It included, "Thank you that we have food to eat, so we don't get sick and die."  That's a prayer right from a little boy's heart. This little guy loves his food.