Tag Archives: wit

The Beetle and the Gnat

“The sand is very sandy,” said the beetle to the gnat.
“Well that’s a very silly thing, for everyone knows that,”
The gnat retorted to the beetle, who’d dug a beautiful hole
At the very very very edge
Where the ocean had taken hold
And filled the hole far sooner than he ever could have told.

The beetle stood so very still and then began to cry.
Seeing such great sadness, the gnat thought to reply,
“I’ll help you dig another, if you’ll only let me try.”
For the gnat was very sorry for the beetle’s predicament
When faced with miles of sand, just where should he begin?
Why, by the boardwalk! Yes of course, the gnat decided so
They took their shovels and their pails and began to heave and throw
The sand into the air, where it landed in a pile
And grew so tall it seemed to them to be a hundred miles.

It grew and grew until the sun disappeared from view
It grew and grew till moon and stars could not be seen, tis true!
So dig they did for several months
Till England’s shores were seen
And France was next
And Italy
So far away from home
That soon the two unhappy souls put down their pails and hoes.

“A hotdog I would like right now,” said the beetle to the gnat.
“Oh do put on some sauerkraut,” and with that the gnat did shout
“But they are far away, you know, on the ocean’s other side,
Where first we started shoveling,” and both sat down to cry.

“I wish the stars and moon would shine their brilliant, dazzling light,”
“I wish we’d never dug a hole before thinking what was right,
For had I thought ahead back then I’d never have proceeded
To dig so much and so obscure the light I cherished near us.”

The beetle did agree with this, and thought it could be righted
So in the night they blew and blew,
The sand fell left and right
And in a day or two or more
The stars began to shine
And soon the sun did light the dawn and with this they did smile.
“Let’s just hold hands, sit down again, and dream of piles of sand!”

©2016 Ellen Kostroff


The duck and the pigeon

duck&pidgeon
The duck and the pigeon met by chance
Stowed away on a boat to France
They hopped a truck parked at the dock
Then drove to Montmartre and on to Chartres
And while they journeyed to Par´e
They each told stories of their families.

Arriving in Paris, they leapt from the truck
The pigeon danced wildly with the waddling duck
What a funny sight these two birds were
Walking the streets, looking in stores
Seeing the dazzling wares galore.

“That hat would make a lovely present
To match my sister’s new-born pheasant
And for my mother I’ll get a pot
She loves to bake and cook a lot.”
“That’s great,” the pigeon did chime in
“My wife will like that shiny pin.
And for my brother I’ll get suspenders
And for my sister, a pair of book enders!”
So off the duck and pigeon strolled
From street to street and boulevard
Admiring everything in sight,
They did this long into the night.

The happy pair had a grand old time
They visited the countryside again and again
To see where grapes were grown and then
Where Van Gogh painted and even Cezanne
Before returning to Par´e
To take a train to the ferry
Where their journey home would begin
Loaded with presents for family and friends.


Mimeographed

EllenEye#2
I am a copy of myself
Just offer me a cigarette
And though you know I do not smoke
I dare to say I will not choke.

Now this is very odd indeed
I run and run and run with speed
This makes me feel that I am free
For trouble seems to follow me
No matter where or when, you please
I usually begin to bleed.

Make no mistake (perhaps just one)
Mistakes are rarely very fun
Avoid temptation to reply
I say this, but I don’t know why
So if you are inclined to write
I hope to find that you’re polite!


Oh, That I Was Shakespearean

In France they liked me yesterday
Today it was the USA
Tomorrow who knows where they’ll be

Oil painting part of Sand Lake Ambulance collection for sale

Oil painting part of Sand Lake Ambulance collection for sale

As long as they do follow me.
I know it’s been some time since posting
But that should not indict my hosting
Just say hello, I’ll say adieu
Should you so like me, I shall too
Though rhymes be silly, fractious things
I hope they put a smile on wings
That take you soaring, flying high
For miles and miles up in the sky.
Oh, that I was Shakespearean
Your heart would open up and sing!


Sunny and Chérie

(hummed to the tune of ‘I got you Babe’)

They say that work won’t pay the rent
Your paycheck’s gone before it’s ever spent…
But you don’t care, although it’s true
‘Cause hustlin’s become a way of life for you…
Babe…
(da, da, da, da, da, da…)
It’s so true…
(da, da, da, da, da, da…)
This is you Babe…

Ten years ago you had a job
A wife and kids
A house and a big back yard..
Your life was hot, on easy street
Now you’re in the gutter, begging for somethin’ to eat…
Babe…
(da, da, da, da, da, da…)
It’s so true Babe…
(da, da, da, da, da, da…)
This is you Babe…

Down on your luck, clothes tattered and torn
The people pass by, leaving you ignored…
Cast adrift, your life flashes by
When friends were gay and family stood by your side…
Babe…
(da, da, da, da, da, da…)
It’s so true Babe…
(da, da, da, da, da, da…)
This is you Babe…
(da, da, da, da, da, da…)


Okay, It ‘s Alright…(Nevertheless, although found widely, alright remains nonstandard…)

(hummed to the tune of the BBC show ‘New Tricks’)

It’s okay
No big deal
The rich are richer and the poor can’t deal
It’s alright
It’s okay
The end is coming this way.

It’s for sure
Some shall say
That equal rights is the only way.
It’s alright, it’s okay
The poor are poorer each day.

The sun don’t shine six feet down
The living might as well go under ground
The middle class have lost their heads
The sand is lookin’ good instead.

It’s alright, it’s okay
You muddle by each and every day.
It’s alright, it’s okay
Death is just a step away.


Watch out 2

(hummed to some song, the title of which I can’t remember…)

Watch out
Here they come
I say watch out
They’re on the run
And if you watch out
You’re sure to see
That Obama and Romney
Are phony as can be.

Ten times ten is no big deal
But when your paycheck’s gone
There’s no more meals.
You’ll starve to death if you listen to one
So if you get my drift, you’ll start to run.

You better watch out
They’re on their way
So just watch out
I’m goin’ to say
That if you don’t watch out
We just might become
Another third world country that’s on the run.


Watch out…

(hummed to the “Streets of Laredo”)

I spied a young cowboy
Astride a painted pony
Cowboy’s hat was a flopping
Pony’s tail was in knots
Now this little horsy
He tried best he could–
But the cowboy kept riding
Till the pony was no good.

He crawled and he cried
His life was a shambles
No pony to ride
No money, no pride
His shirt was in tatters
Not that it all matters
But his life was gone–
Gone now for good.

This lesson you’ll learn
That ridin’s a privilege
That horsy just died
Right where it stood
That man goin’ nowhere
His pony six feet under
Take care of your workers
Fore’ you’re head’s off for good.


It’s party time!

Eleven p.m.
I’m sure you must know
I’m never this late
I’m usually asleep–
I live in the woods
With nary a peep
From fish or from fowl
Though they usually don’t howl
Like the coyotes do
Or the resident screech owls
That lurk very near
Yet rarely appear.

So I’ll turn off the lights
And tumble to bed
I’ll say my good nights
And sleep pretty tight
Till the mice start to party
At 4 in the dark
And I pull up the covers
And wait for daylight!


Oh no!

Oh! Très bien! Très bien!
Uno or dos
I seem not to know
Whom I like most.
I count on my fingers
Five – up to ten
And then I begin
To count them again.
This is quite fun
Having you here
To read all my gibberish
When it appears
And though I do know
You’re all very busy
I can’t stop myself
From making us dizzy!


Food!

oops whoops
oh boy
whoa
not so
oy vey
I swear
I might have had a fright
oh my
I looked around until I found
a pair of Starlings flying low
and other birds aloft, you know
that birds in flight
can tell a lot
of things to come
and things undone
of dreams inside your pretty head
and silly words to stop you dead
of vegetables that rot in hell
and others that divinely make
your day a wondrous place to dwell
and fill your tummy till it swells.
And then there’s dips and chips and such
that fill you up, and up, and up
with calories and fat and more
that in the end will make you swear
to reassess your food affairs!


2 Sleep

Sleep 1
It’s very strange
That once or twice
I come upon a thing that’s right
For most of it is very wrong
And takes you on a path that’s long
And far away from everything.
It brings you grief and nasty things.
But when you find a thing that’s right
It makes you sleep quite well at night.

Sleep 2
I sleep and sleep and sleep at night
And wake when it is very bright
Perhaps at 10, 11, or noon
Even 1 is none too soon.

I need my beauty rest, of course
There’s nothing worse than having lost
That beauteous glowing, silky skin
That ageless patina that’s akin
To Venus of De Milo fame
Or David, Michelangelo’s creation.
So let me rest till I decide
To rise and take myself outside!


…to Silver, Obama, Romney and all…

It’s a dog eat dog world
If you know what I mean
It’s Martini and Rossi
It’s a drunk’s perfect dream
There’s a bone in the cupboard
And more in the store
But you’ll pay through the nose
And eat off the floor.

So here’s to the jobless
And the minimum wage
To Obama and Romney
And the millions they make
For themselves and their cronies
For the widening gap
‘Tween the poor and the rich
And no middle class.

Just one more thing –
Here’s to Silver and his crew
In New York they had thought
A raise was their due.
But they screwed themselves royally
And this I don’t mind
For its been several years
Since I’ve seen a dime.

I’ve been without work,
Just one of a crowd.
Don’t mind me saying
I’m not really proud.
But I can’t rightly say what a restaurant looks like
Haven’t been to the barber,
Cut my own hair, that’s right.
And the doctor, well hell
Who knows the last time
Had my temperature taken
Or felt really fine?
And my house,
Well it’s standing
But when winter comes
The thermostat won’t reach past 51.
That’s Fahrenheit friends,
Not Celsius, no
So I’m glad those old sweaters I didn’t let go.

So here’s to Silver, Obama, Romney and all
The politicians who knock at my door
Wanting my vote
For what, I should ask.
They’ll do what they want
And we’ll fall through the cracks.


I’m handsome…

My pads are tough from asphalt streets

My nails are short, for this I’m pleased

My coat is brushed ten thousand times

So for the ladies I do shine.

Yet never once will she release

And take me off this cumbersome leash

So that I may attend to all

The ladies at my beck and call!

 

 

 


Oh my, sigh…

Brought to tears

my heart does cheer

and thoughts of how you  appear

to mellow my response

in ways I may enhance

a quality of life

so often rife

with war and woe

though this I think you  know

my feelings are sincere

I must reply

I am not tied

by land or sea or sky

and will admit

with fitting wit

I’d rather live than die.


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