Hot, hot, hot.
I like it very hot.
I turn the furnace ‘way up high
and hope it never stops.
Heat, heat, heat.
I like it when I sleep.
For if I turn the heat up high
I feel very satisfied.
I turn it up and let it run
and I think that this is fun.
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Sweeping Up Footprints All Around the House
for when the prints get dry as dust
you can sweep them with a brush
and what was mud and dirt before
leaves a clean and dirtless floor.
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I wonder what’s under his hat?
What kind of guy is that?
Is it too much to ask
what is under his hat
or better to stand from afar.
In some things you will be mistaken,
in others completely misled.
It’s better by far
to stay where you are
than try to look under a hat.
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I cooked today to no avail
and everything I cook did fail.
The meat was tough, the bread was hard
and so it went from end to start.
Nothing seemed to satisfy
although I really tried to try.
But we ate them one by one
and were glad when they were done.
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When Daddy Cooks
When Daddy starts to cook
he gets all confused
and almost all the pans are out
and almost all are used.
I do not understand it,
to cook a simple meal,
but there are tons of dishes
in this little deal.
Mother does not do it
anything the same
and when she cooks a meal
little work remains.
I guess it must be planning
or the things you understand
for Daddy works so hard
and makes more work unplanned.
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Did you ever open your ice box
and it was almost bare
and only jars of pickles
and mayonnaise and ketchup there.
And you wondered what you’d fix to eat
from all the remnants there.
The cupboard was somewhat better
and there were crackers there
but with the ice water in the fridge
it wouldn’t make much fare.
There was also lard and flour
and baking soda there.
The freezer held no promise
and shelves were empty too.
Just what is this housewife
going to think to do?
It is a desperate moment
in a housewife’s cluttered life.
What would she have for dinner
for all the folks tonight?
I cannot give the answer
tho I’ve faced it many times.
The only thing I know is
we’re still all alive.
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Kitchen Floor
I don’t want to clean the floor anymore.
It seems that I have cleaned it before.
If I wash it one more time
will it stay clean and always shine?
It is most discouraging
to clean it always yet again.
If it would always stay that way
I would have a pleasant day.
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If you think your life is hard
pretend you are a nun
scrubbing floors or pans
until the day is done.
No thought of a reward
or some return or praise,
just to serve for God
all her living days.
If life won’t treat you right
say this thought in prayer –
Whatever that I do,
God is always there.
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The weather doesn’t know that it’s
divided into months
and has to cross a boundary
set only there by us.
It goes in leisure fashion
proceeding day by day
and if it’s spring or January
has the final say.
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Hair is eternal.
I find it every place
from the floor unto the ceiling
and every little space.
It gets upon your clothes and shoes
and sticks upon the chair.
It seems that it is every place
and really everywhere.
And when you’ve finished cleaning
and take a little breath,
you see some more upon the floor
and how much more is left.
There isn’t any respite
if you have dogs or cats.
You cannot get it all
so leave it just like that.
If there ever were a hell,
torment of any sort,
the worst would be eternal hair
that you could never thwart.
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I think that summertime is hiding,
it’s already June
and we have our furnace on
even tho’ it’s noon .
It’s so cold we took out
our winter clothes once more
and I wore my coat again
when I went to the store.
Altho it has been warm
once or twice till now,
it seems that it’s skipped over us
and winter’s here somehow.
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Dirt
You can’t bet tired of dirt: it’s here to stay.
And tho I send it on its way
there’s more to come and filters down
and all that dirt is still around.
Exasperating as it seems,
I have not given up my dream
of a house that just stays clean.
It would be a modern cure
of houses tired as we were
for all the dirt to disappear
and vanish every, year on year.
“Come on in,” I’d get to say,
“My house is clean again today
and you are welcome every way.”
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My plant has an antenna
sticking straight out into space.
It keeps on getting longer
but seems like going no place.
And what can be the good of it
is more than I can see,
sticking straight out into space
as carefree as can be.
What’s it going to do out there?
Please tell me any day –
for it is getting longer
and persistent in its way.
I cannot tell you to this day
what it was doing there,
but it is gone, the plant’s the same –
was it going somewhere?
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I have a great big house
and clean it rather slow
and as I work I meditate,
pausing as I go.
If I sweep the floor
then I take a rest
and sit down in a chair,
the part that I like best –
and think on anything
that may come to my mind
of my daily chores
or of a different kind.
And what I like and how I feel
and what is best to do
and oh just anything
that may appeal to you.
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When will I be a lady
and sit back with ease
and order my lunch
or whatever I please?
When will I be a lady?
I work so hard.
I scrub the floor
and mow the yard.
I have no time to beautify
and try on some new clothes.
But what would be the good of it –
I almost never go.
I wonder what a lady is
and who’s one anyhow.
Perhaps they’re disappearing
and you can’t find one now.
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Adventures of a Penny
Once there was a penny
that had a lot of fun.
He thought he’d see the world
and run and run and run and run.
He hopped out of a pocket
and jumped upon the floor,
looked around the corner
and headed out the door.
He paused upon the threshold
to give the house a glance
in case he ever should return,
he’d recognize his past.
It happened as he traveled
a small boy came along
and scooped up Mr. Penny
and sang a little song.
He spent him at the grocery store,
it didn’t take him long.
And all day long that penny sat
in M r. Kinney’s drawer
and never did get out
so it could go some more.
And when the evening came at last
he took the bankroll down
and put it in First National,
a bank of some renown.
And I was made in change next day
to a housewife from the town.
Lincoln gave a little yawn
and took a spin around.
When she took me home that night
the change spilled on the floor.
The baby almost ate me
I thought I was, no more.
Did you ever try to brush
the sunlight off your clothes
and see it was just light
that gave that little glow.
And stand foolish and abashed
at your little act,
for it was just a fact
there was nothing there at all.
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Gichi
He said I was a gichi,
whatever that may be,
but it sounds very good
and I am very pleased.
I guess they’re from New Orleans ,
perhaps of gypsy stock
and different words they use
are all mixed up a lot.
It adds a new dimension
to my picture of myself
and explains some things
that I’ve already felt.
I guess it is a caption
for a part of me –
“This girl is a gichi” –
It’s clear as clear can be!
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I have a mop that hung its head
and muttered a low cry,
for gradually but gradually
its life was set aside.
Rugs had come in one by one
to fill the vacant floor
and now there wasn’t any place
to mop up any more.
It stood up in the closet
and led a useless life –
I really liked it better
than all the rest combined.
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Lost
I lost a thing of value
and now I cannot tell
just where I placed this treasure
I put away so well.
I looked all day, I looked all night
but still I couldn’t find
the very special spot
I laid this thing of mine.
If I could just remember
this very special place –
if this goes on much longer
it’s really a disgrace!
But in the meantime I have found
many special things –
papers , books and pictures
worth remembering.
I guess I will not need it,
if I can’t find it soon;
for I have searched so carefully
each corner of this room.
At last! It’s here! The very place
I laid this thing of mine.
I put it there my very self
and here my treasure find.
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Do you think we’ll have decimal time?
I’ve wondered quite a while –
if we’ll have ten hours in a day
and ten spots on the dial.
Some may hold out for 20 hours
but pity these last few –
when faced with rigid decimalists
who stubbornly refuse.
Now you can say it simplifies
and that they’re learned men –
but old as time has taught us,
we’ve all had fingers ten.
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Do you suppose the birds keep daylite time
and get up an hour sooner?
Or change their clocks from East to West
arrive an hour sooner.
Are animals subjected to
a different time to eat.
And do they wait for bedtime
till it’s time to go to sleep.
Does time itself maintain
a different kind of time,
or is it only men
who some convenience find.
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Watch out house, here we come.
We hope that you won’t be too stunned.
We hope your peace won’t be upset
like a tiny rivulet
that runs into a mighty tide
that only time can make subside.
We have heart but not finesse.
You’ll have to take us, like the rest,
and try and hold our family
within thy grace, so cosily.
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Skit – for someone who’s sad.
Say -- They lost their smile, can't find their smile.
Look up your sleeve, under the rug, anywhere.
Then reach down in your pocket and there’s the smile, or you can shake it out of your handkerchief.
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