A Place Setting for our Holiday Poems?

[AuntShecky]

Could we put all of our Thanksgiving, Harvest Festival,
Christmas and other late Fall/early winter in one thread?
Anyway, to kick it off, here's a little ditty:



Feast de Resistance


On the holiday the librarian had to work but kept on living
by ordering a 1-800-TAKEOUT Thanksgiving.
Verily, folios and festivity ne'er mix well:
Slipping on a magazine, she--and the food--fell.
Farewell all things chewy!
Adieu, alas the wine!
For she took out a whole shelf of Dewey:
800 through 899.

Though featherless and roasted, the bird went flyin'
into the spines of both Brownings and Lord Byron.
All Conrad's tales of the British navy
sailed on a sea of giblet gray.
The Roman Empire's down for the count: put a bib on,
Dribble, dribble, Mr. Gibbon.
John Ruskin? Full of stuffin'.
Hard to tell the sweet potato from the yam
from the orange globs spotting pages of Lamb.
A creamed (in more ways than one) onion
stemmed the progress of pilgrim Bunyan.
John Ashberry? Bogged down with cranberry.
And Dylan Thomas is again on the sauce.
Forget pie. All the pumpkin's on the Frost!


All Rights Reserved.

[Pendragon]

Some humor from the days when I actually did hunt. I actually had a wild turkey fly from a branch I put my hand on to steady myself going down the trail...


Turkey Hunting Made Easy

As Thanksgiving Day starts to approach,
The subject of “turkeys” begins to encroach…
Ah, Turkey! Blessed Bird of the Thanksgiving Feast!
Are they are pleasure to hunt? Nay, not in the least!
You go out in the morning as dawn starts to break,
Sipping scalding black coffee to keep you awake;
Camouflaged over (head down to feet)—
Drenched in odors that a skunk wouldn’t call sweet—
Then you crouch in the brush and you take out a turkey call,
And you call, and you call, and you call, and you call, and you call;
And you gobble and gobble and gobble and gobble and gobble—
Until your hands shake and your knees start to wobble—
And you stare and you stare until your eyeballs have dried out,
But danged if there’s any sign of a single turkey anywhere about!
And so you get rather mad and you curse and scream:” I’ve had it! I’m through!”
And a fat turkey files away from less than ten feet from you…
Ah, Turkey! Blessed Bird of the Thanksgiving Table!
I’ll pick up mine at the supermarket, providing I’m still able…

D.L. Harris
© 11/14/85

http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l108/AbsalomKane/Smilies/Turkey.gif

[AuntShecky]

Did you know that Benjamin Franklin tried to promote the
turkey -- not the eagle -- as our national bird? Good thing he was unsuccessful -- or we'd be eating Roast Eagle on Thanksgiving. (Stan Freburg mined a lot of humor out of that piece of early American trivia.)

[AuntShecky]

Claus-trophobia

Fear of the white beard,
Shunning the maniacal overeater,
the huckster in a red suit,
the used-car salesman
O.D.-ing on Saint John's wort.

Avoidance of the naughty/
nice dichotomy, the sheep
from the Lamb, the Either
Slash Or. My name penciled in
On the wrong list, the net little less
Than a hunk o' coal, a guerdon perhaps
To some barefoot and freezing Irish lad,
One kid's heat vs. the affluent’s sugar plum.

Anyway, I've got other poisson to fry --
In the advent of the woes and worries
And undone work of the waning year:
How many, for instance, angels can dance
On the six angles of a snowflake
Of which no two are said to be the same,
Though they all look alike to me
And whether each missile towed
Toward the East follows the stretch
Of some star and should this Creche,
Maddening to some, be propped up by
The discarded crutch of Tiny Tim
Or should such things be taken on faith
As when with late December's puny pinpoint dawn,
One will find an empty stocking
And still believe.
All Rights Reserved.

[AuntShecky]

Bumping this thread in case anyone has written a verse for Thanksgiving.