I love limericks...

...so much so that, when I decided I wanted a new message on our voice mail, I composed one. 

Unfortunately, my family vetoed my creativity. 

Bummer.

If you need to reach Stan or Amy,
Try not to be grumpy or blame-y.
Right now they're not home.
It's best not to moan.
Just leave us your number and name-y.

A Poem by Kelly

A sliding snake will slide to the lake.

He sneaks on a boat and sails away.

Goodbye little snake and have a good day.

Heather's Reflections Program Poem

The theme for this year's Reflections Program was "Beauty is..."

Heather won first place for her age group at her elementary school.

Here is her poem...


Beauty is the peaceful forest, the majestic trees towering above, the soft leaves of ferns curling under, the animals, silent and watchful.

Beauty is Winter, the soft whiteness of snow spreading around like a blanket, the snowflakes drifting softly to the earth.

Beauty is Autumn, the vibrant colors all around, the trees shedding russet, scarlet, orange and yellow leaves on the ground, the fresh, crisp, scent the breeze carries.

Beauty is wild horses, their hooves pounding a rhythm on the fields of heather, their manes whipping in the wind.

Beauty is gentle, kingly grizzly bears, their shaggy golden heads raised to roar at the setting sun.

Beauty is deer, their large brown eyes that seem to look everywhere at once, their ears pricked up, listening for the slightest sound, their legs tensed, ready to dash.

That is Beauty.

Gwen's Christmas Poem

Gwen wrote an acrostic poem for school that her teacher said was the best one she had read in years. This gives her some bragging rights here at home since it is the same class her three older sisters were in ;)

CHRISTMAS

Christmas is a very joyful and wonderful time of year.

Heavenly music fills the air as the stockings are gently turned over, their contents spilling out onto the rug.

Ripped snowman paper flies around the room as children utter cries of delight while they open their gifts.

In the kitchen sweet aromas float out of the oven, adding to the fragrance of melting candles.

Spicy smelling pine needles litter the floor, along with tinsel, ribbons and bits of colorful paper.

The glass nativity set on the mantle glows softly, reflecting the dancing fire in the hearth.

Merry children's faces shine as "Silver Bells" echoes through the lighted streets.

As weary children sit on the floor to eat their many cookies and sweets, they are tired and happy.

Sitting at their table covered with a delicious Christmas dinner, each family, filled with love for each other, reads the story of the first Christmas Eve.

Ode to Gwen

This evening, Summer and Heather wrote a song about Gwen, to be sung to the melody of "For the Beauty of the Earth."

For the beauty of Gwen's hair,
For the moonbeams in her eyes,
For the rubies of her lips,
For the roses of her cheeks,
Gwen thy lovely face we praise.
Please don't stomp away in haste!

Poetry

Summer's Freshman Honors Literature homework last night was to write a poem about herself. It had to be at least 20 lines. She was stuck not knowing how to start, but my muse was in full force, so I offered to help.

This was my first effort.

I suggested she alter this to her taste and write four more limericks, which would give her her twenty lines.


There once was a in high school,
And she wanted to think she was cool,
So she braided her hair,
And wore, not one, but a pair,
Of brown, fuzzy, loafer-like shoes.


She said, "Mo-o-o-other, that would be embarrassing!"


So,I tried again.


Here was my second effort.


My name is Summer.
I don't drive a Hummer.

I wish my mom would,
To carry her brood.

Yep, there's a lot.
From teen to tot.

I'm the teen,
Cause I'm fourteen.

I have one brother
And he's a bother.

At two and a half
He gets in my stuff.

Sakes alive
Of sisters, I've five.

They're fun and cute.
The baby's a hoot.

I play the cello.
I feel so mellow.

When I read a good book.
Now there's a quick look,

At me, I'm Summer.
I don't drive a Hummer.


For some reason, which is unfathomable to me, she declined my help and wrote her own poem, which she says I am NOT allowed to put on the blog. She knows me too well :)

Boogers, A Birthday and Poetry

Warning - Grossness Alert!!!

If you are feeling nauseated for any reason, do not proceed because this will only make it worse.

The other day, I caught Michael sticking his finger up his nose and then trying to clean it off with his mouth. Hoping to nip a potential bad habit in the bud, I told him, "We don't eat our boogers!! That's gross." Well a couple days after that, I saw that more clarification was necessary. He obviously still thinks there may be nutritional possibilities coming out of his nose.

I was trying to merge onto a busy freeway (always a good time for someone to need help in the back seat) when Michael hollered, "I have hamburgers!"

Me - "What?"

Michael - "I need tissue. Get hamburgers out of my nose."

Me - "Oh, you mean you have BOOGERS. I'll get you a tissue in a minute."

Michael - "Yes, I have bagels."

On another note,

I had a birthday this past week. It was lovely. Here is a picture of the dinner Stan and the girls made - Shrimp Fettuccine Alfredo, veggies and Greek Lemon Cake for dessert. It was all delish.

The kids gave me beads, a small blue dish, and more beads. Stan gave me a string of Akoya pearls.

And last, but far from least, is some poetry. We haven't had much rain this winter so everyone was excited when we woke up to the sounds of dripping water this morning. Before she even ate breakfast, Rachel, with a little help from Heather, composed the following -

Pitter, patter everyone,
Pitter, patter to the sun,
And maybe it will rain.

Call the clouds to come o’er here,
‘Cause right now the sky is clear,
And hope that it will rain.

Get galoshes from the garage,
And umbrella, try to dodge,
The maybe coming rain.

Look, behold! It’s dripping now,
Do a dance and then a bow,
We finally have the rain.

Pretty, Pretty Please?

The other day, Heather, Gwen and Kelly were trying to get Summer to pretend she was a robot. They each begged her, "Pretty, pretty please? I'm kneeling on my knees." It inspired poetry in Heather (age 8), who wrote the following:

Pretty, pretty please?
I'm kneeling on my knees,
The opposite of ease.
Pretty, pretty please?
My knees are getting sore,
Hard, hard on the floor.
Pretty, pretty please?
You are such a tease.
Will you just stop,
Or else I will pop.

I wish I could guess
That you would say yes,
And be as right
As the sun is light.
I wish you would see
And respect me,
In all of my wishes
From horses to dishes.
Pretty, pretty please?
I'm kneeling on my knees.