questionable poetry

Department of small favors

by mayberry on May 12, 2010

The child who woke me
and who was all wet, “with pee”
Was not in my bed

at the time, merely
standing right next to my bed
my nice, warm, dry bed.

and let the record
show, I warned that kid not to
drink so much water

the night before, and
lo, I was rewarded for
my effort thusly.

Zombie ‘ku

by mayberry on May 29, 2009

zombiechickenin the blogosphere
being called a zombie chick?
it’s a compliment

Specifically, it means that recipients of this prestigious award  “believe in the Tao of the zombie chicken—excellence, grace and persistence in all situations, even in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. These amazing bloggers regularly produce content so remarkable that their readers would brave a raving pack of zombie chickens just to be able to read their inspiring words.”

Well, wow. Thanks, Melisa with one S!

Now for the threatening part: “As a recipient of this world-renowned award, you now have the task of passing it on to at least 5 other worthy bloggers. Do not risk the wrath of the zombie chickens by choosing unwisely or not choosing at all.” Yikes.

Well, I like to live on the edge so I am going to pass this on to one single chick: Mad. Because although her masterful retelling of Pride and Prejudice didn’t make mention of any zombies, it was by all means remarkable.

Homage to Shel Silverstein

by mayberry on August 13, 2008

Joanna Jessica Ginger Mae Brown
Just couldn’t make that medicine go down.
She tried it with cake and she tried it with jam
She tried it with cheeseburgers, turkey and ham.
And though her parents pleaded and cried,
She said “my throat closes up from the inside.”
And so they tried candy and ice cream too
And straight-up chocolate syrup, that magical goo.
Still nothing could get her to swallow that stuff
Not even a spoonful of marshmallow fluff.
Her parents, they threatened, punished and held
Her down while spooning in liquid that smelled.
She spit and she thrashed and she stuck her tongue out
‘Til the neighbors wondered what the fuss was about.
Her parents gave milk, both chocolate and white.
They gave apple juice, orange juice, try as they might
The girl couldn’t bear it, the stuff tasted so bad
They all felt they’d slowly go stark raving mad.
Then after two days of cajoling and crying
Little Jo relented; she said “I’m trying.”
And she did it! She sucked down every offending drop
Her parents rejoiced ’til their hearts almost popped.
Jo finally earned stickers and treats and a doll
And anything she wanted on a trip to the mall.
So sick children, remember Joanna Brown
And find a way for those meds to go down.

The two days following Jo’s second hospital visit were almost as bad as everything that led up to them. She categorically refused to take her antibiotics and it was miserable. We tried everything from reasoning and pleading to physical force and peer pressure (Tacy contributed a video demonstration to the effort). We tried punishments (which led to me locking doors and unplugging televisions) and rewards and threats. We tried every kind of masking agent and flavoring substance known to man. I seriously questioned my ability as a parent. I cried at the counter at Walgreen’s.

I don’t know what it was that flipped the switch. Either Jo got tired of fighting, or she realized she really didn’t want to go back to the hospital after all, or she realized we would continue to try to force the stuff down her throat for two solid weeks if we had to. And yesterday evening she took her last dose. I’ve never been so happy to toss an empty bottle in the trash.