To live above
With those we love,
Oh! That will be glory!
To live below
With those we know,
Now, that's another story.
The Turkey Shot Out Of The Oven
The turkey shot out of the oven
and rocketed into the air,
it knocked every plate off the table
and partly demolished a chair.
It ricocheted into a corner
and burst with a deafening boom,
then splattered all over the kitchen,
completely obscuring the room.
It stuck to the walls and the windows,
it totally coated the floor,
there was turkey attached to the ceiling,
where there'd never been turkey before.
It blanketed every appliance,
it smeared every saucer and bowl,
there wasn't a way I could stop it,
that turkey was out of control.
I scraped and I scrubbed with displeasure,
and thought with chagrin as I mopped,
that I'd never again stuff a turkey
with popcorn that hadn't been popped.
Methuselah ate what he found on his plate,
And never as people do now;
Did he note the account of the calorie count?
He ate it because it was chow.
He wasn't disturbed as at dinner he sat,
Devouring a roast or a pie
To think it was lacking in granular fat,
Or a couple of vitamins shy;
He cheerfully chewed every species of food,
Unmindful of troubles or fears
Lest his health might be hurt
By some fancy dessert,
And he lived over nine hundred years.
If you've left the crayons to melt in the car,
And forgotten just where the car keys are,
There's a perfectly good way to explain:
You see, you've come down with "Mommy Brain."
When you're not sure where the past 8 hours went,
Or whether the phone bill check's been sent,
If you've left the laundry drying in the rain,
It's just--you guessed it--Mommy Brain.
If you find yourself chatting for hours on end
About diaper prices with your cyber friends,
You've just caught a particularly virulent strain
Of that affliction known as Mommy Brain.
Carlotta Eike Stankiewicz
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backgrounds and grapics by mary vannattan