Oranges and Apples. And a Limerick

Let me share some more poetry fun with you. The last poem I shared was of a rather serious nature, as was my last post.  I say it’s time for some delightfully amusing little ditties.

Last Sunday was a splendid evening of Arts @ the Aviary. We had 9 adults and three kids here.  Well, one of those kids was sleeping, so I guess that doesn’t really count.  Three of our guests brought large cases with rather noisy items inside them, and I’m not going to tell you anything about that in this post.

Instead, you get to read some poems that were shared by our friends.

First, a hilarious limerick contributed by Matthew Carey:

Matthew Carey engrossed in the act of playing something roughly the shape of a banjo. More on that later.

There once was a man from Spokane
Whose poems no one could stand.
When he was told this was so, he said,
‘Yes, I know.
But it is because I try to fit too many words into the last line of everything that I write.

Next, a short little offering from Nathan’s dad, Phil.

Insert headshot here. Oops.  My search through my computer, revealed that I do not have a good closeup picture of him.  Yes, I know I could have gotten a bazillion off of facebook or from Nathan’s computer, but the one I found – below – might be even better (except for the fact that you can’t actually see his face.  Minor detail.). It encapsulates three very significant things about my father-in-law.  Let me digress…

1) Cider pressing.  This pic was taken at the 2011 annual cider pressing event at the Bird home. More info about that will come at some time in the future, but suffice it to say that Phil loves apples, loves cider pressing, and loves to facilitate the whole event for friends and family.  Which brings me to…

2) Family.  He is surrounded by family and friends all coming together to have fun and work on the common goal of making Bird juice.

3) Photography. By the way, Phil is the one in the back, standing up high to get a good shot of the apple grinder in action.  He takes great pictures – has for as long as I’ve known him. In fact, he even took pictures with my camera on Sunday night – another reason why there are none of him.

Without further ado (he did hand motions too, but you’ll just have to imagine that):

If it is in,
or if it is on,
it is as it is,
be it in or on.

And, finally, a poem that singer/song-writer Ry Edwards wrote way back when he was in college.

handsome fellow, eh? Just had to show of one of the pictures Phil took.
Here's a better one...although he seems to have some issues with showing his face!
The Orange Poem
I want
to eat an orange
but, I do not
have the time
Still, I want
To eat the orange
So, I will
peel it in my mind
Waxy, bumpy, bitter
is the landscape
of the rind
but, as I dive
into the center,
sweet juices
gurgle up divine
And so, I strip
the fruit for pleasure
in some stolen leisure time
I, tear-by-tear,
reveal the treasure
that I yearn for to be mine
Now, the pulp’s
lost all protections
and my mouth waters by design
Yet, I forget,
there are no taste buds
in the confines of my mind
So now, my time
Is long forgotten
And my stomach,
Empty still
Now, a true orange
taste is rotten
And its texture
leaves me ill
How it sours
In my belly
And for hours
gives me chills
To think that once
that loathsome jelly
Filled my heart with endless thrills…

What a creative bunch of people we are.  Everyone is. Go create something.

By Naomi Bird

Wife of tenor Nathan Bird, pianist, organist, former music therapist, writer, tea-drinker, mom of two mini-sopranos and two mini-tenors, and learner of loving the arts.

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