Country Klutz

Just got paid,
Got a brand new car.
Time to grab my baby,
Head to the ER.

Gonna ask her Momma,
Have to ask my Dad,
“Do you think it’s broken?”
“‘Cause she’s limpin’ real bad.”

Time to get married,
Gonna get her a ring.
Just as soon as a doctor
Inspects that wasp sting.

Today’s at the orthopedist,
Hopping through the door.
I have a bad case of deja vu,
‘Cause we’ve been here before.

When she hears or sees an insect,
She’ll attempt a triple lutz.
She’s on the ground, whimpering.
I’m married to a klutz.

Goodbye

It’s been a long month,
But only thirty days.
The challenge is over,
We go our separate ways.

As we go into May,
Random thoughts will fly by.
I’ll be writing by chance,
Not because I will try.

Thirty poems is not much,
Not even a book.
Unless you self-publish,
For a Kindle or Nook.

Rocky Relationship

I cannot get a snack to eat.
If I move, I’ll lose my seat.

I have a bit of deadly gloom,
Why does a dog need so much room?

What is it with this magic chair?
He knows that I always sit there.

I’m sure that dogs must mean no harm,
Perhaps they find a used seat warm.

At last, I must admit defeat.
I will never have a snack to eat.

The Attack on Granny’s Ranch

Editor’s Note: I was at least twelve at this point, since my Grandpa was already gone, but I’m not sure when this was. I hope it wasn’t much later than that!

Once or twice almost every year,
We would visit my Grandma’s ranch.
I would always shed a joyous tear,
Visiting another family branch.

My parents left me with my Granny,
And went off to places still unknown.
She was not really much of a nanny,
So I felt almost home alone.

As I started to drift asleep,
I was quiet as a mouse.
I didn’t hear a peep.
I was the man of the house.

I woke a little bit later,
I could hear a rustling sound.
I didn’t want to wake her,
But there was someone on the ground.

My uncle had at least two tractors,
Parked under the shed.
These I assumed were factors,
For robbing our homestead.

At this point, I saw two choices.
One, Granny pulled out a gun.
The other, hearing stranger’s voices,
She told me to go get one.

I really hoped she had a pistol,
Hidden deep in her nightgown.
Otherwise, clear as crystal,
I was going to shoot a bandit down.

I waited for her to hand me a key,
Hidden behind her necklace cross.
“This is to the gun cabinet, Sweetie.”
I would then become the boss.

There was another option, of course.

I woke Granny, who was trying not to cuss.
While I began to panic, she said,
“Nobody’s gonna bother us.”
“Now, you go back to bed!”

Well, that was anti-climactic.

When I looked out at morning light,
I found we had not been alone.
Sometime in the dark of night,
The cows had come back home.

Fifty-Four

Happy Birthday to you!
Another trip around the sun.
Some trips are annoying,
Some trips are fun.

That’s where they rhyming part ends.
My head hurts and I can’t find
My rhyming dictionary.
So, another crappy birthday poem follows.

My apologies in advance.
I hope it’s not a bore.
I should just say Rocky wrote it,
So people would cry for more.

Sigh. I’m not bitter about that.

Here’s an interesting fact.
If you had walked a mile each day,
Since the day you were born,
That would be 19,710 miles!

Your Fitbit would be very happy.
Also, you would have been walking at birth,
A very impressive feat! (feet?)
So, this is probably hypothetical.

Your Mom probably would have stopped you,
Since you shouldn’t be walking that young.
On the other hand, I’ve met your siblings,
So maybe she would have said, “Bon Voyage!”

Back to the hypothetical walking,
Today, you would be almost 80% of the way
Around the earth (give or take).
Holding your breath across the ocean-y bits.

However, you keep insisting on taking cruise ships.
So, walking around the world is probably out.
Also, you would have ended up back in New York.
Since the world is round-ish.

So, you’re in Dallas, not New York.
You’re a year older, but at least you’re not 55.
It could be worse, because it could always be worse.
Did I mention Rocky wrote this?

Happy Birthday.

Dreams

Walking down the Seco Creek,
Searching for my dreams.
They’ve dried up, like all this sand,
Like so many other streams.

Wondering where I went wrong,
And what I could have changed.
I’m at the age where it’s too late,
For my life to be rearranged.

Maybe the secret is to settle,
Just accept what’s done is done.
Your dreams may all have passed away,
But there’s still time to have some fun.