Verse...or worse.

April is National Poetry Month, so I thought I might reach back into my archives & give readers a glimpse of what was on my mind 33 years ago (gasp!).

Dietary Blues

If I act a little cross,
and for reason you're at a loss
let me put your mind at ease,
while I explain the dread disease.

Alas, I must admit
that I'm more than just a bit
shorter with my fuse,
'cause I got those dietary blues.

You see, I'm on a diet;
where you poach instead of fry it.
The eggs you eat are coddled
and your stomach's nearly curdled.

My open mouth now lingers
near a plate of Lady Fingers.
What tortures we endure
with our motives saintly pure.

We passed up ala'mode,
past gravy strongly strode.
But taste buds they did flutter
as the roll we missed had butter.

On we march past hot dogs,
no brownies or pecan logs.
I'm possessed of will of steel
when kept away from any meal.

Oh the things I now forgo
to keep my calories low
are not just simply a few
but fill a cookbook, or two.

There's pies and cookies and cakes
and other things you bake.
I passed up Duck L'Orange
and the BBQ at the Grange.

There's no end to my love of pasta,
and for soda, it hasta be Shasta.
No champignons in sauce,
no cotton candy floss.

The days are rolling by.
My mouth keeps getting dry.
Thinking one day in the park,
"Hmmm, I could eat that meadowlark!"

The fat friends cheer you on,
the thin ones think you're drawn.
Yep, got those dietary blues
from my head down to my shoes.

"It's worth it" my friends say,
the pangs I suffer through each day,
when I see myself much thinner
cuz I ate a lot less dinner.

Of this fact they're so sure,
but I wonder if the cure
isn't worse than the disease
of going without split peas.

So if you see me on the loose
looking for lettuce or some juice,
if I reach for something else
just give me a little goose.
Or turkey, or chicken, or rice, or spaghetti...perhaps a nice marmelade on a brioche.......



Okay, the L'Orange and Grange thing was just because there isn't supposed to be any way to rhyme orange, and I'm stubborn that way, and the pasta and Shasta works much better up here near Canada. Give me a break, I was a kid.

Happy doggerel month one and all.