Monday, January 30, 2012

Eating Left Overs on a New Year’s Night

Eating Left Overs on a New Year’s Night

                                                          KARL WALLACE

Taw’s a New Year’s night but I just couldn’t sleep,                                                                                              I tried counting backwards, I tried counting sheep.                                                                                      The leftovers beckoned, the deserts and horsd’ouevres                                                                                   I fought the temptation, with all of my might.                                                                                          Tossing and turning with anticipation that night.

The thought of a snack became infatuation.                                                                                                    So I raced to the kitchen, flung open the door,                                                                                                  I gazed in the fridge full of goodies galore.                                                                                                          I gobbled up turkey, potatoes, beans and more                                                                                               The cranberries were dripping down my chin.

Staining my night gown, as I ate some more,                                                                                                       I chomped on dressing, gobbled down a fowl’s thigh                                                                         Dribbled a few grapes, devoured more pumpkin pie,                                                                                         Had another sandwich, gave my dog one as well,                                                                           Continuing on with more late-night desserts.

Suddenly! I felt myself swelling, so plump and so round                                                                                   Until all of a sudden, I rose off the ground                                                                                                            As I crashed through the ceiling, I screeched                                                                                             “Pass, the cranberries, the lobsters too,”                                                                                                        My stomach was definitely letting me know

When the stuffing is tasty, a gizzard is plump,                                                                                                     Potatoes and gravy have nary a lump,                                                                                                            The yams delicious, go ahead and eat                                                                                                              All the tasty treats on any New Year's day,                                                                                                     But for goodness sake, Not After Nine PM!

To read more Karl Wallace poems go to:
 karlwallaceblog.blogspot.com:        

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