Second Annual Ode to Thanksgiving

A holiday about tradition
Merits another poetic rendition
That’s at least my humble position
I say this with zero contrition
Thanksgiving is the best!

Cookbooks scattered here and there
Tables, counters, everywhere
As hubby wonders what to pair
With his pumpkin pudding éclair
New recipes to test!

Turkey’s easy, at that we’re pros
Gravy and stuffing, but then who knows?
Sweet or russet mashed potatoes?
And as for veggies, anything goes
Saute well, add lemon zest!

Friends and family will arrive
Thanks you guys for making the drive
And for new dishes you all contrive
So on Thanksgiving we will thrive
And afterwards will need a rest!

In case you were curious, here is last year’s poem

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The Cue Ball Mysteries’ Producer: A Tribute

The assistant, the producer
Whatever he’s called
My fantastical hubby
I sincerely applaud

I write my stories
And work out the plots
But hubby? He does
A whole heck of a lots

At all technical issues
I am far from astute
Without help from hubby
My books go capoot

Setting margins and font size
How does this work?
I ask hubby to help me
And with nary a smirk

He takes over my laptop
And while I’m not looking
He fixes all problems
And yep—He also does cooking!

Formatting for kindle
And website design
These skill sets I lack
But my hubby’s refined

And so as I get
My next book self-published
Claiming my self did it
All would be rubbish

I could write all I wanted
But without hubby’s assistance
Only in my dreams
Would my books be existent

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The Sunday Night Blues

When it comes to Sundays
They have a way
Of going where they will
No matter what I say

I always make plans
To get a lot done
But what else comes up?
Most everything under the sun

My to-do list lingers
With nothing crossed off
It’s as if Sunday knows
At my lists it should scoff

I plan to go shopping
But a call from a friend
Sets me back hours
The thing never ends

Once I get to the store
My needs they don’t stock
Sunday showed them my list
Clerk says check down the block

But the shop down the street
Today closes early
I go home empty-handed
My mood turning surly

Okay, I’ll try laundry
But lo, I’m out of soap
Maybe I’ll go back to bed
Cuz’ I’m finding it hard to cope

Sunday night is now here
I give up and drink wine
Next Sunday will go better
And everything will be fine

But deep down and honestly
I already know
Next Sunday’s to-do list
To the winds I should throw

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Having a Say in Four Play

My beta readers
Are patient sorts
They’re reading my book
I await their reports

As much as I can
I revise and re-do
Beta readers get a look
When I think I am through

They read quite closely
They look for all flaws
And when they criticize
It gives me great pause

If something bores them
They let me know
I take the book back
And give it another go

Sticklers for detail
Grammarians they are
Without them my writing
Would set folks ajar

Intimidated not
They eat typos for lunch
Ah yes, I adore them
My beta reader bunch

Thanks to John, Kathy, Megan
Sharon and Jean
Better beta readers
The world has not seen!

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