December 21, 2009

Naughty or Nice

Are you like this little kitty going to be on Santa’s naughty list tearing into the christmas tree now you know you don’t want to be on his bad list now do you. You my little one want to be on Sants good little baby list so you can get lots of presents and lots of diapers for that wet bottom of yours hmm we know that your a good little baby when you want to be so lets see if that can happen since it is almost Christmas time. Minnie
December 14, 2009

Christmas Morning Memories

Christmas morning memories Filled with wonder and delight As we opened up our presents Santa left us through the night Christmas morning memories Lots of presents were unwrapped Paper strewn around the room Crackers to be snapped Christmas morning memories Shouts of laughter and of glee “Look Mum and dad Look what Santa left for me.” Christmas morning memories To church a frosty walk Then home again for Christmas Dinner Turkey, ham and Pork. ©Marie C 1998 Minnie
November 9, 2009

Thanksgiving Feasting

When the Halloween pumpkins are gone, And the leaves have all fallen to ground, When the air has turned windy and cold, Then Thanksgiving will soon be around. Thoughts of loved ones all feasting together, Pleasant pictures from past times appear To dwell in each heart and each mind– Then Thanksgiving is finally here! The kitchen has scrumptious aromas, The dining room looks oh, so fine, Decorations with pilgrims and turkeys, And now we are ready to dine! First the napkins are placed on our laps; Now the prayer for the meal to be blessed, Then we stuff the good food in our tummies, And we hope for it all to digest! Minnie
October 26, 2009

Witches

A be”witch”ing poem for the sake of the Halloween spirit. In a city, on the border Of Greenwich Harbor and Bly, Maine Lies a scene, dubbed out of order The people don’t like to explain For when nightfall finds its calling And the ground is damp with dew A strange, mist-like fog starts falling Believed from the witches brew. When the haze drifts on the hillside The scent of sulfur fills the air Streaking ‘cross the ebbing high tide Till the fog is everywhere Then the night becomes quite stoic ‘Neath the bright yellow facade And the townsfolk, not heroic Find their shelter e’er abroad. Thus, the city is a ghost town Every night when dusk appears But, alas, there’s milling around In spite of the chills and fears It is true, the rumored report Of the fog-like mist and smell For within a vacant resort Is the place where witches dwell. While the walls are swayed by motion And the roof is half intact The witches join to boil a potion Made of decades old extract To erase one’s recollections Of the town that they once knew Once they taste the rich confections That are in the witches’ brew. Minnie
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