The Perfect Program

The Perfect Program

  A world where it doesn't rain

  save there are umbrellas for all

  Where, only on the house of the evil doer,

  would a tree ever fall

  Where bad people look gruff and mean,

  but good men all stand tall

  ...in your dreams, maybe

  A life of harmony and love that begins with just one kiss

  Where all is well that ends well,

  and ever after we'll live in bliss

  When good things come to those who wait,

  with never even a miss

  ...only on TV

 No matter the problem,

 we're sure there's always a way

  Nothing but nothing is impossible to those who dare to say

  'Human brawn and whit, my friends,

  will surely save the day'

  ...hee hee hee

  A Chicken in every pot,

 a pot on every table

  Justice for all, and a job

  for everyone who's able

  I'll just wave my wand

  and make the economy stable

  ...vote for me

   What we do will save the world

  from poverty and despair

 We'll right all wrongs and adjust the scales

  so everything is fare

  We'll punish the bad, reward the good,

  and show the poor we care  

  ...wait and see

      ...just wait and see

  Well, we abolished humanity because it's bad

Some said, 'Oh my! Why, that's so sad!'

  But really, it's the only choice we had

  ...for a perfect world, you see

haiku

Here's a sample I wrote impromptu for my English class students while teaching them haiku:

this crazy teacher

  wants me to write a haiku

  I've no idea how

Limericks

The previous post was an extract from my book, Pappa Gander: the Less Better Half of Mother Goose, pictured to the right. That's basically a collection of my less serious attempts at rhyming, parody, and the retelling of well known fairy tales. There are other nursery rhyme parodies as well -- though mostly short ones -- but below, I'll paste a collection of limericks. Those of you who follow me on Facebook, may recognise some of them.

Barbarians and Samarians

Barb, a barbarian from Barbaria

And her man, lived in a wire barbed area

Sign said, 'Trespassers beware

Though I shoot first, I be fair.

If mistaken, I'll have my wife, Barb, bury ya.'

Samson and son, Sam, in Samaria

Lived in separate houses in the same area

Sign said, 'Trespassers beware.

But if you're feminine and fair,

I'll not shoot, but I'll have my son, Sam, marry ya.'

Reinventing the Wheel

when willie reinvented the wheel

we all laughed and called him a schlmiel

then it so happened

that he took out a patten

now it's his licence fees that make us reel

the first draft of a limerick:

a seemingly educated limericist named curdy

writes limericks too over exceedingly wordy

in spite of how much he tries

to sound educated and wise

one moreover wonders as to how one fringes so on the edges of absurdity

the final draft:

poet named curdy

was too wordy

being wise,

downsized

now sounds nerdy

The Misadventures of Jack and Jill

grandmother hubbard, to keep food in her cupbord

and pay the rent
on her shoe

sent little jill moffet and her cousin jack

to find some work to do

young jack horner found a secure corner

with jill in the royal kitchen

it was really quite modern
-- it had 'running water'

their job was, 'run', do the fetch'n

the the royal well was up a hill

at a distance of about one mile

a precarious climb, took lots of time

but the water in the moat was vile

said jack to jill, 'to climb that hill

with the well, we must move faster'

but jill nudged jack, he nudged her back,

they broke into a peal of laughter

so into the slop the bucket did drop

and came up black as a blotter

now, with time to kill, and their bucket of swill,

to pass off as kitchen water

they sat on the wall, but had a great fall

and the pail came splashing after

all the kings horses and all the kings men

went up the hill with the bucket again

they too, fell down, broke the king's crown

and the king came screaming after

jill and jack were given the sack

and meanwhile
back at their shoe...

old mother hubbard went to the cupboard

to open a tin of stew

but her little dog laughed, 'old woman, you're daft!

the cupboard
you'll find so bare!

why, even the spoon, with an amorous dish has eloped to las vegas, so there!

'the cat was ask'n

for the fiddle for busk'n

and since, he hasn't been seen

he said his first act is

in london -- must practice

he hopes to play for the queen'

said hubbard, 'well, now, we've still got our cow'

'you forget so soon! the bean

and the commodities trader, who wiped jack clean

he turned around and made a killing

he sold it to NASA for many a shilling

who sent it into orbit in search of the moon'

laughed the dog, 'funnier than loony toons!'

finally jack and jill returned to their shoe

with their severance pay, and feeling quite blue

'oh granny dear, we sadly fear,

our royal job we've lost!'

'you naughty kids! you've lost your lids!

do you know how much food costs?

I'll whip you both soundly and send you to bed

and feed you broth...'

'not me!' jack said

and out he did hurry to the neighbour, mary

and jill came running after

now teacher mary, could be quite contrary

-- intolerant of laughter

contrary mary had a lamb,
his fleece was white as snow

he accompanied her to her class, and he helped her garden grow

'teacher mary, quite contrary,

what grows upon your land?'

'what grows? I wouldn't know

you'll have to ask the lamb'

'...so, lamb?'

'(call me sam)

er -- that bean you bought with your cow'

'the magic bean? it hasn't been seen

since the day we had that row!'

'it's really quite grand, it

grew where it landed

look out back, you'll see it right now!'

jack looked up, couldn't see the top

and turned to say to jill,

'shall we climb? i think it's time

it would be quite a thrill

then, who (diddle diddle) should arrive with his fiddle?

but the cat, who was looking quite ill

'pussy cat, pussy cat,
where have you been?'

'i've been to london
to play for the queen.'

'pussy cat, pussy cat,
how much did you earn there?'

'hardly enough to cover the bus fair'

'but why (diddle diddle) did they pay you so little?

their budget is over the moon!'

'...and her corgis laughed
and gave me a fright...'

'...and why are you home so soon?'

'a diller a euro, a ten 'o clock bureau-

crat said i must be out by noon

plus, old king cole, being a merry old soul,

already employs fiddlers, three

they play for their supper of white bread and butter

but the rest they do for free

but you, master jack, why are you back

so soon from the royal court?'

'alas,' said jill, 'they said, "you will

bake a pie", but jack miss-heard

instead of "berries" numbering four and twenty

jack thought that they said "bird"

(what he heard as "bird",
was a reference to his brain

but hear the rest, it's quite insane)

so off he went to catch the winged critters

to bake inside the pie

bought the lard for a song and sixpence

and a pocket full of rye

but when the pie was open

jack's birds began to sing

songs of euros and sixpence

and all that sort of thing

so both of us were unceremoniously ejected

from the royal kitchen

and demoted to the job of royal water fetch'n'

now the little cat laughed to hear such a tail

that his spirits went over the moon

he no longer looked ill, so jack and jill

said, 'c'mon, let's have some fun'

teacher mary,

being quite contrary

warned, jack, 'be nimble, jack be quick

when jumping over my bean pole stick'

so doing, jack and jill went up the beans talk

and the cat came climbing after

and so did the lamb, whose name was sam

while mary was none the dafter

they reached the top, and had to stop

the beanstalk went no higher

said jack to jill, the cat and sam

'what now? you know, i am no flyer'

said sam, 'let's eat. i've found a treat --

these beans, along the way

in kurdistan, i understand,

they eat the beans this way.'

so, little jill moffet, used a leaf for a tuffet,

sat, eating the kurdish way

while little jack horner found a leafy corner

and frightened the spiders away

but the beans they ate made them flatulate

so strongly, it propelled them upward

so did they begin, from the gas within,

to fly, though they felt awkward

up-up they went, by gas they were sent

with beans for rocket fuel

up to a home, where the giants roam

and other things most cruel

they came to a road, and down it they strode

across the cloudy floor

at mile post two jack buckled his shoe

at mile post four they came to a door

its height was six (in meters). 'oh styx!

my watch says eight, let's lay this this straight'

said the cat. 'it's much too late to be home by ten.'

so they knocked at the door, and a big fat hen

invited them into the kitchen, and then

jack asked, 'pray tell, who your master?'

'a tinker, a tailor, a soldier, a sailor,

a rich man, a poor man and a beggar man,'

was her clucking answer.

'a greedy lot are they; can you take me away?

I've had it up to here!'

she took a look out the window and shook,

and with a cackle, said, 'oh dear!'

to the window ran jack, jill, sam and the cat

outside were seven bearded men

tall they were, yes, but almost as fat

they saw fear in the eyes of the hen

'hi ho, hi ho, and a fi fie fo fum

to home from our various occupations we've come

we've dillied and dallied throughout the day

done crosswords and twittled our thumbs'

at the sight of the men, jack grabbed the hen

and into the great oven they hid

on the count of four, they shut the door

it's just as well that they did

announced the tinker,
'dear tailor, brave soldier, swaggering sailor,

gentle rich man,
humble poor man,

fine beggar-man,
amongst us there dwells a thief.'

spake the tailor, 'you stinker!

though crafty, you're no thinker.

your occupation as a tinker

makes you suspect of giving us grief!

Said the poor man, 'you pig!

your a racist and a prig!

I say, it's the bigwig:

what's made him rich beyond belief?'

cried the rich man, 'I'm all a flutter!

who pays the rent?
buys bread and butter?

who, but for me,
you'd be still in the gutter?'

'not you,' did the beggar-man utter.

'it's our gold laying hen who's brought us relief.

'our gold laying hen, she's fled for the hill,

go now, you lot, you may catch her still!'

he looked towards the oven and winked.

the other six strode to their horses and rode;

said the beggar-man, 'in here, I think.'

said the beggar-man to jack and sam,

don't worry yourselves, just a beggar I am

a beggar I was, a beggar I'll be

life in the gutter is no hardship for me

I'd just as soon they learned their lesson

for me, outdoor life will be a bless'n

said jack to the man, 'how flustered I am!

this story's all wrong!'
'and I,' said the lamb

'feel much the same.

I recognise that but for your size

you're the 7 dwarves of snow white fame!'

spake the beggar-man,
'you're not to blame.

you guessed 7 dwarves,
we're one and the same

but if you think that we're a sight

you should see the size of snow white!

'now, off you go, and take the hen

and return to where your journey began

and take this harp, it sings by itself.'

he gave them the instrument
from off the shelf

off they went the way they came

they reached the edge, but it looked the same

no beanstalk, no beans, no rocket fuel

said the lamb, 'what a world most cruel!'

little jill moffet, sat on her tuffet

thinking of words to say

along came a spider in a hang glider

and said, 'you folks going my way?'

they all hitched on and glided down

but the contraption began to totter

jack fell down and bunged his crown

and the hen came flapping after

jack came to, and wondered who

had brought him to his chamber

he wasn't dead, but in his bed

wrapped in vinegar and brown paper

in walked hubbard, 'there's food in the cupboard!

that hen that followed you home

was so big and fat that it filled the pot

it'll do till it's nine days old!'

... sad for the hen, and their prospects for gold

but not all was lost, for, so I am told

the cat still goes busk'n and for many a shilling

plays duets with the harp -- they make a killing!

twinkle twinkle giant star...

sung to the tune of a familiar nursery rhyme:

twinkle twinkle giant star
now i understand what you are
many light-years up so high
nuclear furnace in the sky ...

do you wish upon that star?
please, oh please, stay where you are!

More Poetry

My 7th grade English teacher told me there's a difference between poems and rhymes. She assessed the few lines I showed her as the latter. I suppose today's offering also classifies as the same:

I've finally finished a long one that I began about six years ago. It's a parody of Mother Goose. If you enjoy the occasional silly but amusing rhyme, you may enjoy the adventures of jack horner and jill moffet

Pepe Haiku

What if, instead of chapter titles, one used haiku? I bounced that idea off my publisher as Pepe was being prepared for publication, but she didn't want to do it.

Anyway, I did have a whole set of haiku ready to use, and even had one file of my Pepe manuscript with the haiku in place. I've decided to post them on my Author's Den Page, for anyone who's interested.

There's a lot about poverty, slum life and homeless children there.

Here's one I actually made up in front of the creative writing class I was teaching for summer school over a year ago:

the boy with no shoes
now you see him, now you don't
my wallet -- it's gone!

long long ago,
before there was ever
a Central Department Store
a Robinson's
or a Tesco shop
to put up lights
to play songs
and dress fat men up in red...

there was the Light.

that Light tried to shine
but the darkness wouldn't let it in

there were people living in the darkness
who needed the light

so, the light said,
“i will go into the darkness myself...

“i will be born as one of the people in the darkness...

“then, i will grow up as one of them...

“then i will shine,
and the darkness can't stop me.”

so, the Light was born

the Light chose a poor mamma and pappa

it chose the darkest spot to be born

so it was born
and became a baby

it was so dark
there was no room for the poor mamma and pappa to have the baby

the baby had to be born in a place where they keep horses donkeys
and other dirty animals

that's really not a healthy place to have a baby

the Light was born in the darkness

but this was too special to keep as a secret

special messengers of the light appeared to some poor shepherds

these were poor people who had to stay up all night
looking after other people's sheep

they heard that the Light had been born
and came running to see

a star of the Light shone in the sky

some people who can read the stars saw it

they knew that the Light had been bornthey came from a distant country to see the Light
who had been born as a baby

and that baby grew up

He began to shine

the darkness hasn't been able to stop it

today we still celebrate that Light

that's not exactly why
Central Department Store
Robinsons and Tesco
put up lights
and play songs
and dress fat men up in red...

some of that has to do with the darkness...

but it's why we celebrate that Light on Christmas

Abie's Lullaby

What follows is the lyrics to a lullaby I made up for my son. The inspiration is another song that my Grandmother used to sing to me (she also sang it to my mom and my aunt), about a nest in an old oak tree, and the wee birds asleep in it. Abie likes that motif so much that when I launch into a different song, he says, "Birds in the wee wee nest?"

I don't just want to sing the same old song to him yet again, so I made this one up. As you can see, you can just keep singing it as the second stanza leads right into the first stanza again. The tune is a slow Irish style one:

there is a bird in a wee wee nest
up in a tree where he lays his head to rest
there the bird's papa does sing so sweet
he's singing a lullaby to put the wee bird to sleep

he sings of a boy in a wee wee bed
up in a bedroom he lays his sleepy head
there the boy's papa does sing so sweet
he's singing a lullaby to put the wee boy to sleep

he sings of a bird in a wee wee nest
(etc.)

a limeric

I made this one up in the last couple of days. Click on the above heading for more:

when willie reinvented the wheel
we laughed and called him a shlemiel
while we were still laugh’n
he took out a patent
now, it’s his licence fees that make us reel

(disclaimer: the name 'willie' has absolutely no reference to anyone else of that name who likes to patent software to strenghen their monopoly)

what baruch calls poetry

I write poetry sometimes. However, don't ever expect anything deeply spiritual from it. Poetry, for me, serves as a form of comic relief. To give you an idea, my favourite poets are Ogden Nash and Shel Silverstien:

Anyway, here's one I just made up ...

the grand old duke of york
he had a rock-n-roll band
he hyped them to the top of the charts
though they sounded rather bland
when they were hot they were hot
when they were not they were not
when they were only half way hot
they were neither hot nor not

for more like this, go to my poetry page. There are a few crude cartoons there as well.