🥧poetry friday roundup is here🌽

Please help yourself to apple cider, chocolate chip pumpkin bread, oatmeal raisin cookies and a Dreamy Pear slice.

Welcome to Poetry Friday at Alphabet Soup!

So, it’s almost turkey o’clock. Does Thanksgiving fill you with dread or anticipation? Will you find the holiday relaxing or stressful? A good sense of humor is essential whether you’re dealing with dry turkey, lumpy mashed potatoes, or high drama with relatives.

Mr Cornelius contemplates giant oatmeal cookies.

The older I get, the more I appreciate Melanie White’s Instagram caption: “Thanksgiving – when the people who are the most thankful are the ones who didn’t have to cook.” 😀

True, yet when you don’t cook, you don’t have any leftovers, which I think are actually the best part of Thanksgiving (hello, hot turkey sandwiches, apple pie for breakfast, sausage stuffing for lunch). When all the niceties and formalities of the holiday are over, you can finally be alone with your food and have your way with it.

Austin poet C J Beaman’s parody says it all.

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A THANKSGIVING POEM
by C J Beaman

Twas the night of Thanksgiving, but I just couldn't sleep, 
I tried counting backwards, I tried counting sheep. 
The leftovers beckoned - the dark meat and white, 
But I fought off the temptation with all of my might. 

I tossed and I turned with sweet anticipation, 
As the thought of a snack became infatuation. 
So I raced to the kitchen, flung open the door 
And gazed at the fridge, full of goodies galore. 

I gobbled up turkey and buttered potatoes, 
Pickles and carrots, beans and tomatoes. 
I felt myself swelling so plump and so round, 
'Til all of a sudden, I rose off the ground. 

I crashed through the ceiling, floating into the sky 
With a mouthful of pudding and a handful of pie. 
But I managed to yell as I soared past the trees... 
Happy eating to all! Pass the cranberries, please! 

May your stuffing be tasty, may your turkey be plump, 
May your potatoes & gravy have nary a lump, 
May your yams be delicious, may your pies take the prize, 
May your Thanksgiving dinner stay off of your thighs. 

Remember to share with those less fortunate,
And may your Thanksgiving be blessed!

~ Copyright © 2001, C J Beaman. All rights reserved.
“Pie in the Sky” by Dan Craig.

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🐜 TRUMAN’S AUNT FARM GIVEAWAY WINNERS! 🐜

Thanks to all who left interesting comments about your aunts. Thoroughly enjoyed reading them! After Mr Cornelius wrote all the commentors’ names down on pieces of paper, he tossed them into Paddington’s bush hat so Aunt Lucy could pick two winners. And they are:

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🥁 drum roll please 🥁

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🌽 JONE RUSH MACCULLOCH 🍗

and

🍁 MARY LEE HAHN 🥧

🎉🎉Congratulations, Jone and Mary Lee!! 🎉 🎉

Please email your snail mail addresses and we’ll get the books out to you lickety split!

Thanks again, everyone. 🙂

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Now, please leave your links with the dapper Mr. Linky below. Better take a few more bites to sustain you while you zip around the blogosphere reading all the fine poems, reviews, and poetic ruminations being shared by our poetry peeps this week.

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“Mulberry Cake” by Loré Pemberton

🥧 HAVE A SAFE, DELICIOUS, AND VERY HAPPY THANKSGIVING!! 🍗


*Copyright © 2022 Jama Rattigan of Jama’s Alphabet Soup. All rights reserved.

lindsay macrae’s “happy families”

Butcher, Baker, Candlestick Maker.

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. 

Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief, doctor, lawyer, Indian chief.

What will you be when you grow up — and will your job match your name?

“Three Men in a Tub” by Tim Egan
HAPPY FAMILIES
by Lindsay MacRae

Mr Pill the pharmacist
Mrs Bunn the baker
Master Leak the plumber’s mate
B. Grave the undertaker.

Mr Blast, who in the past
once mended broken hooters
Mr Spider – web designer
Miss Take – in computers.

Ena Hurry makes strung curry
Old MacDonald farms
Mr Cue is in the theatre
Bill Ithole sells arms.

Master Void is unemployed
Reg Card – a referee
When I grow up, I worry what
my name suggests I’ll be.

What kind of job might go with Robb?
I bet you think you know it.
But I’d rather rhyme than turn to crime
So perhaps I’ll be a poet.

~ from How to Avoid Kissing Your Parents in Public (Puffin, 2000)

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friday feast: bob raczka’s presidential misadventures (+ a giveaway!)

Clerihew? Achoo!

Pardon me, but whenever I see the word “clerihew” I think somebody’s just sneezed. Either that, or I picture a shell-shaped danish pastry or a new fangled brass musical instrument.

But all you poetry aficionados know very well that a clerihew is a cheeky four-line rhyming poem invented back in the late 19th century. Its sole purpose? To make fun of a famous person. In case you’re looking to liven up your President’s Day celebration on February 16, better check out Bob Raczka’s new book, Presidential Misadventures: Poems That Poke Fun at the Man in Charge (Roaring Brook Press, 2015). 

Officially released just last week, this smorgasbord of historical and hysterical verse features 43 juicy tidbits about each of our Presidents with clever caricatures by award-winning illustrator and cartoonist Dan E. Burr. All based on fact, some poems point to an important achievement or event (Louisiana Purchase, Monroe Doctrine, Manifest Destiny), but most highlight a quirky personal habit or idiosyncrasy (Harding’s size 14 feet, Pierce’s vanity, Van Buren’s pet tigers, John Quincy Adams’s early morning skinny dipping).

 

In keeping with the clerihew’s rules, the first lines of these poems end with the person’s name, and I like Raczka’s spot-on descriptions: “Toothache-prone George Washington,” “Fashion-conscious Chester Arthur,” “Electric-shock victim Benjamin Harrison,” “Fresca fanatic LBJ,” “Cover-upper Richard Nixon.” Best zinger of all? “Relaxer-in-chief George W. Bush.” Did you know he took more than 900 days of vacation while in office? 😀

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friday feast: the biting humor of why do i chase thee by jessica swaim and chet phillips

“He who chases his own tail has a full circle moment.” ~ Issa Shih Tzu

Ahhrrrooooo!

I’ve got my nose in the best book!

Why Do I Chase Thee: Classic Poetry for Dogs from Elizabeth Basset Browning and Other Canine Masters by Jessica Swaim and Chet Phillips is tail-waggin’ brilliant and totally blows my ears back. Can you dig it?

Finally, finally, dogs have their day and their say. For far too long, silly humans have discounted their random bow wows, arfs, woofs, yips, and yaps. Here’s proof that some of these mutts were actually sniffing out sonnets and licking limericks with the best of them.

Make no bones about it, this snappy little volume features sixteen of the most celebrated poetic pooches of all time, including four-time Poolitzer Prize winner Rover Frost, iambic puptameter whizzard William Shakespaw, haiku master Issa Shih Tzu, and the somewhat repentant Dogden Dash, who knows just what to do with a rhymed puplet:

SPECIAL DELIVERY

Judging by their ankles, here’s my educated guess:
The FedEx man tastes better than the guy from UPS.

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friday feast: hamming it up

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Oinkity oink oink.

Happy March!

It’s National Pig Day!

Gather round, ye swines, sows, piglets and poetry-loving porkers. We’re mud-wallowingly happy to squeal your praises today. Surely none other in the animal kingdom is as clean, intelligent, belly beautiful or lick-the-fat-off-your-face tasty!

*pork fat reverie*

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Mr. Cornelius delivering the keynote address at the 2013 Alphabet Soup Pig Day Conference.

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Captive audience hangs on his every word.

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“Now, let’s talk about that flying thing . . . “

Where would we be without our Sunday morning slices of crispy bacon, our juicy honey-baked Easter ham, our Wednesday night pan-fried pork chops with biscuits and gravy, our fall-off-the-bone bourbon-glazed baby back ribs? Oh, tempt me with your tenderloin, your coy cutlets, your heavenly hocks! Whether sausage, shoulder or bountiful butt, you alone wear the Crown.

To barbecue or not to barbecue — that’s not even a question. Aye, there’s the dry rub.

*trit trot, trit trot*

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