Thanksgiving Doggerel

family-reunion-clip-art-reunion-picThanksgiving Feast

©  2019 Mollie McKibbon

Mama’s in the kitchen

And dinner smells so good,

We’re sent to set the table

As all hungry children should.

We’ve folded all the napkins

And pulled up all our chairs.

Papa is so famished

He rumbles like the bears.

The potatoes have been mashed, 

And the carrots have been creamed,

The turkey bursts with stuffing, 

And the onions have been steamed.

As we sit around the table

With our relatives galore,

Papa says the shortest blessing

Than he’s ever said before.

Our eyes are on the kitchen,

With our napkins tucked to chins,

When Mama brings the platter

And Papa starts to grin.

The turkey smells delicious

As she wafts it by our nose,

And all of us together

Are curling up our toes.

There’s a leg for my big brother,

A wing for my dear sis,

And another leg for mother

While Papa takes some breast.

After all my aunts and uncles

Have each made their own pick,

There’s hardly any turkey left

For me to get a lick.

Because I am the youngest,

When the turkey has been cut,

I’m lucky if I end up with 

What’s on the turkey’s butt.

Senior Locomotion

Senior Locomotion
© 2018 Mollie McKibbon


My perfume is linament
And I walk most carefully
Because at any moment
I could buckle at the knee.
Stairs are quite a challenge;
Going up I have no speed.
Going down them, I wobble,
Scaring those whom I impede.
Rising from chairs and sofas
Takes time and determined skill,
While I remember fondly
Youthful springing up at will.

elderly man wearing glasses using caneAnd dance which was so graceful
When I was young and complete,
Is more a lurch and stumble
Than light skipping of the feet.
Though my strong cane is stylish,

Carrying it can be a boregreen-turtle-hi

‘Specially when I forget it
And it clatters to the floor.

If perilous my travel

Down life’s rugged trails,
I have some good companions
Among the turtles and the snails.

Doggedly Doggerel

I enjoy writing poetry which most would call doggerel.  I write other poetry as well, but I like writing rhyming verse just for sheer fun.  Here is one I wrote for a magazine issue with a pirate theme.

pirate galleonBuried Treasure

©  2004 Mollie Pearce McKibbon

There was an old sailor who told the tale                                                                                                           Of a dark pirate ship without a sail.                                                                                                                     This ghostly vessel was ever at sea                                                                                                                   But not always seen by you or by me.                                                                                                         He said if I followed the moon at night                                                                                                                My eyes would see a mysterious sight.                                                                                                      A ship would appear, all battered and worn,                                                                                               With skeleton crew and captain forlorn.                                                                                                                        Forever they’d search the ocean wide,                                                                                                         Looking for treasure tossed over the side.                                                                                                        In the deepest part of the watery main                                                                                                         Where guppies play and octopus reign,                                                                                                             Is an iron chest locked with silver key,                                                                                                         Full of pretty jewels and gold money.                                                                                                                   The fish swim over it every day                                                                                                                     Where whales serenade and sea horses neigh.

pirate-parrrot-on-spy-glass  The old sailor winked when he told me his yarn,                                                                                               And showed me a map he had under his arm.                                                                                                “Here’s the very spot where it sank.                                                                                                                      It’s better than silver you’ve got in the bank.”                                                                                                   The sailor was smart, my he was clever!                                                                                                             Now, like the ship, I’m searching forever!

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