Wednesday, November 21, 2007

My Thanksgiving Quandary

It’s not that I’m not thankful because I am
It’s not that I don’t like yams because I do
It’s not that I hate three-day weeks because I don’t
Here’s the quandary I’m facing here today

If you ask someone to explain Thanksgiving
They mention the pilgrims and how corn is maize
And, how their mother use to make the best stuffing,
The family gathering around and lots to eat

Food is the explanation for Thanksgiving
Whether it’s turkey or goose or ham or all three
Someone knows the best recipe to cook it
And, the best side dishes in the world for it

A holiday to celebrate overeating
We already do that every single day
We take a big holiday and change its name
Turkey Day is a day to celebrate food

I seem to remember when I was fifth grade
We dressed up like pilgrims and Indians
Yes, we called them that back then because who knew?
And, we sat down at a table and gave thanks

There was not a lot of food on this table
Some corn and berries and a bright orange pumpkin
Times were tough back then and they didn’t have food
They gave thanks for being alive and able

Think about it .. for being able… able to live
I think we’ve gotten away from that first meal
We should think about what we are thankful for
Not whether three meats and six vegetables are enough

@Copyright 2007 The above poem and all poetry and photos on this blog cannot be duplicated on the World Wide Web or any other published form without the written permission of the writer/creator at

Sunday, November 04, 2007

Skillets and Their Uses

Not much can be said about skillets
That hasn’t already been said
They are good for fryin’ up chicken
And, can cook up a great cornbread.

Hattie Jo used her skillet different
Hittin’ Clyde up side of the head
If he stepped outta line he caught it
Clyde sometimes wishes he was dead

Hattie Jo don’t put up with a lot
Clyde never really understands
He goes out drinkin’ with all the guys
Hattie Jo sits with her fry pan!

You’d think after all the hittin’ years
Clyde’s mind would have been made right
Yet every week he does the same thing
Booze and poker on Saturday night

Now, don’t go thinkin’ bad about her
Hattie Jo sure loves her man Clyde
But, if he ain’t there to eat chicken
Clyde’s head is what else that gets fried

@2007 Copyright Scarlet's Rhymes - The above and all pictures and poem on this Blog cannot be duplicated on the world wide web or any other published form without the written permission of the writer/creator at