Thursday, November 26, 2015

Happy Thanksgiving!

I shared this on Facebook but I'll repeat it here. Several years ago, at my last "real" job before I started writing full time, management held a poetry contest Thanksgiving week and gave everybody a list of words to use. I must (immodestly) say that I won with the following entry, which is too dumb to sell and too fun not to share. So happy Thanksgiving, folks. I hope it's terrific.

Cranberry
Pilgrim
Giblets
A relative's name (Ex. Uncle Charlie, Grandma Mabel)
Mincemeat
Turkey
Football
Gravy
Leftovers
Pecan pie


`Twas the night of Thanksgiving, after the feast,
You could tell by the crumbs scattered north, west, and east.
The bones of the turkey lay stripped and forlorn,
Covered with gravy and bread ripped and torn.
The giblets were eaten, and the cranberry sauce;
The guys had retired to watch a football get tossed.
But I could tell from the way they groaned and they huffed,
That more than that poor turkey got stuffed.
Uncle Glenn had the couch; Cousin Joe had the floor,
My beloved was slumped somewhere near the front door.
"Another great dinner!" they proclaimed to a man,
But not one volunteered to give me a hand
As I cleared away dishes and tossed out the scraps
And secured the new leftovers in tight plastic wraps.

Now I do love to cook but that's not the point,
I could have used some help cleaning up the joint.
Instead there they sat, my fine Pilgrim band,
While grown men with a toy on the tube threw and ran.
"First down and ten!" they started to cheer,
And I guess I saw red when they called for more beer.
I confess that a wicked gleam came to my eye,
As I looked at my beautiful, untouched pecan pie.
I drew up a chair and sat down `midst the mess,
And what happened then--well, you can guess.

While the game got intense and the boys started swearing
And betting the very shirts they were wearing,
Through the din when the other team's quarterback got hurt,
I sat there and quietly demolished dessert.
Oh, it was good, all those nuts and that cream,
I didn't even care if it made me broad in the beam.
The dog got a piece; the kittycats, too--
I’d send it anywhere except to that crew.
Then the men trooped in smiling `cause the right team had won,
All wanting dessert, but too late--it was gone.

"Hey, the pie's the best part!" they wailed and protested.
"Then next year help bake it," I unblinkingly jested.
They looked so crestfallen I guessed maybe they'd got it,
And of course now I needn’t confess that I'd bought it.
*My* pecan pie burnt but the mincemeat survived,
And the joy on their faces my holiday spirit revived.

Ladies take heed and gentlemen take warning:
Things look quite different on Thanksgiving morning
Than they do by the end of that "relaxing" day.
So try sharing it *all* and keep the holiday gay!

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