Monday, February 16, 2015

holiday poem

This sonnet earned 2 LOLs on the spouse-o-meter.

There's Such A Thing As Just Too Much

So this is why my heartfelt pen is dry
These holidays in flood demand a verse
There's one for each and each is getting worse
Today it's pudding made with grated leeks
Next Wednesday we salute the buttercup
On slug day morn you may not once ask why
From mute day dawn to dusk no one can speak
Concision day will end so ver abrup

In quick succession days for anything
And nothing pass with light and eldritch sound
Parades, balloons, and gimcrack toys galore
Tindalos Day! The sharpness of the Hounds
A holiday because all birds have wings
A day of thanks there aren't any more

Walt Kelly knew how dangerous holidays can be.

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