Poems

My Car is Constructed of Pickles

My car is constructed of pickles.

It's wonderfully crunchy and sweet.

If ever I'm hungry while driving

I pull off a pickle to eat.

The engine is made out of gherkins.

The dashboard's an extra-large dill.

The windows and wipers are kosher 

as well as the bumpers and grille.

The hood's made of hamburger slices.

The gas tank is brimming with brine.

The doors are delectably salty.

The stickshift is simply divine.

There's one little problem I'm having.

I'm sure you would know what I mean

if ever you saw this contraption;

my marvelous pickle machine.

I guess I've included my auto

in just a few too many meals

and now it won't budge when I start it;

it seems I have eaten the wheels.

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Christmas has its ups and downs...

We packed the car up,

and we drove out of town.

We picked a tree out,

and we chopped the tree down.

We tied the tree down

and our spirits were up.

We drove the tree in

and we put the tree up.

We put the lights up,

and the tinsel hung down.

An angel went up

as the Christmas tree's crown.

Our stockings went up

and then Santa came down,

but when we woke up

then we saw with a frown,

the tree had dried up,

and the needles turned brown.

We packed the lights up

and the angel came down.

We picked the tree up

with a sad little pout

then cut the tree up

and we threw the tree out.

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What Do We Love About Christmas?

What do we love about Christmas;
Does our delight reside in things?
Or are the feelings in our hearts
The real gift that Christmas brings.


It's seeing those we love,
And sending Christmas cards, too,
Appreciating people who bring us joy
Special people just like you.