Humor Poetry



There lived in the Ozark Mountains,
Some lazy mountaineers.
Who, by a miracle would do,
Some work in forty years.
One family lives on a mountain top,
With valleys all around ‘em.
They feel very free,
Living in their own kingdom.

On a plateau of Sky High Peak,
The Boone family lives in luxury.
Every night you will find them
By the barrel under the tree.
On Maw’s side of the family,
There’s Lem, Zeke and Ike.
On Paw’s side of the family,
There’s Granpappy, Bill and Mike.

Every day Lem, Zeke and Ike
Go a hunting for some coons
And stay until they get one,
Often it’s many moons.
One year when making cider,
A bottle of some kind,
Fell into the new cider,
The label said Stricknine.

What became of the Boone family?
Well, Maw, Paw and dear Granpappy
Died in a very short time.
Because the poison cider tasted pretty snappy.
The boys soon forgot many of
Their mountain pards,
They left the mountain quickly
And joined the U.S. Coast Guards.

By Sinned Sivro (My new pen name. turn it around, pretty corny, eh what?)
Note: This was written in the late 1940’s for my Uncle Delmer in the Coast Guards
It is the oldest poem of mine I have in my possession.

Dennis C. Orvis

What is it in that tree?
Is it a bird? Well let me see.

Maybe it’s a Bluebird rare,
Feathered in blue with yellow hair,

But wait, I think I see another,
Can it be the Bluebirds Mother?

Oh, now it’s clear, no Bluebird here,
Not with cookies and punch,

With smiles so bright, in a tree just right,
Little Anna and Mama “dining up” for lunch.

Dennis C. Orvis

Thank you for the thank you, that you just sent to me,
And if you thank me again, it will be thank you three.

And I will thank you again and that will be thank you four,
And again and again and again for thank you many more.

And if the thank yous’ never end, Earth will be a better place,
And the people of the world will say “thank you” with a very,
Happy face.

Poems written for Anna Pearce, age 5
1992 (ageless)

Dennis C. Orvis

Sneezer was a Honey Bee, who could fly in any breeze,

Except he had a problem, you see, pollen made him sneeze.

And it was really something, to watch him collecting pollen,

When he got near the flower


Flying backward and a fallin’

Then he would catch himself, take a deep breath


Zipping close in on the flower, ACHOO!

In reverse, he would soar…

None of the other Honey Bees, knew what could be done.

No Bee had ever had hayfever, SNEEZER was first…Number one.

Fritter, said one day, “Look, Sneezer, fly in backwards just for luck.”

And it went well until he sneezed, now he’s in the flower, REALLY STUCK!

This, ACHOO!

Was serious, ACHOO!

The flower ACHOO!

Was zipping, too,

The pollen ACHOO!

Was up to his ears….

The flower ACHOO!

Was whipping, ACHOO!

And Sneezer




All of a sudden, the flower went flying,

With Sneezer inside, all stuck to his neck…









Illustrated by: Alicia Lynn Elie (Grandaughter, age 15)


Dennis C. Orvis

Whenever an Angel swings
With power of Angel wings
And the ball sails swiftly on its’ way,

Remember, the most important thing by far
Is not to get a bird or par, it’s
The company of those with whom you play.


Dennis C. Orvis

I was reading a book, “The Last Yak to Fargo” and I don’t know the power it has over me.
I just woke up with the book on my lap and I am looking at page number three.
Every time I read this book it’s always the same, you see.
I wonder why he’s going to Fargo and I can’t get past page three.

So I closed the book and studied the cover and there he is looking at me.
I can barely see his eye through his thick shaggy hair and I mumble, “Why this mystery?”
The Yak looked back, gave me a wink and said, “Come on, follow me!”
Well, it was a shock when I heard those words from the cover of the book, yes siree.

The Yak didn’t move but a deep voice I heard, “Close your eyes and come with me.”
I wondered if I was dreaming and I said to myself, “A picture cannot talk.”
When I closed my eyes and opened them, I was next to a Yak in a walk.

Well, I don’t know if he got bigger of if I became so very small.
It really doesn’t matter, you know, I’m going to Fargo after all.
I don’t know what is going to happen. I’ll let you know when I get back.
Meanwhile, I’m taking the Last Yak to Fargo with my new friend, Jack the yak.


Dennis C. Orvis

Everyone was standing on the dock,
For picture time after the potluck bash,
I said everyone “Smile” but they all ate too much.
And the next thing I heard was SPLASH!

Dennis C. Orvis

Little Shelly had a dream, walking in a fog.
And as she wandered her footsteps found a pond nearby.
Though she could not see it, she heard a singing frog.
And then the lifting fog brought the image to her eye.

He was coming ever closer and soon would be near.
Hopping on the lily pads, skipping two or three
Still singing his music, so pleasant to her ear.
He was Emerald in color and marvelous to see.

He leaped across the sparkling water.
His music flowed with his happy brow.
With a final jump he landed beside her.
Ending his song with a gentlemans’ bow.

“Don’t be afraid, pretty little lady.
Magic is lacking in your dream,
And I am here to bring it your way.”
As he winked an eye of shamrock green.

Shelly smiled at the frog so small
And said, “Magic, what magic can you show?”
“I can be the biggest frog of all!”
POOF! HE WAS! “Now where would you like to go?”

“Jump on my back and hold on tight
And I’ll take you on a hopping ride!”
When she did, the first hop took flight.
“WOW!” she said, as they landed in a glide.

“WOW!” she said again as the frog jumped very high.
They quickly jumped gracefully from shore to shore
Wow became Shelly’s repeating cry.
They jumped and hopped, not keeping score.

They jumped over the Willow trees,
And bounced across rolling hills,
They did some flips with Honey Bees
The Magic frog gave many thrills.

Suddenly a voice woke Shelly from her dream.
Looking around, a tiny tear formed in her eye.
She told her Mother about the frog she had seen.
“I am so sad. I didn’t even tell him goodbye.”

“Don’t cry,” her mother said as she reached out
To pick her up and hold her tight.
“Your magic frog, is very special, no doubt,
He’ll return again some dreamy night!”
2006 (photo 1985)


Dennis C. Orvis

A whale sighting was reported yesterday in error
And caused a big hubbub.

The mistake was made by a well-oiled drunk
Who staggered by the ships’ hot tub.



Ahoy! J.B. here! Been waiting for you, step a little nearer,
Welcome to New England, I’m a favorite greeter here!
Saying One by Land and Two by Sea, the Minutemen and Pilgrims too,
Revolution history and Whalers come to life for you.
So much to boast, foliage in the fall, excitement on our coast,
And for our sport teams, we always cheer the most.
There’s much more to say, our seafood is the best, like sunrise on the bay
And me, of course, J.B. I’ll see you again, maybe on my special day.
Note: A good Massachusetts friend had an artist draw this wonderful
Groundhog, just for me. It is one of my prized possessions and I
dedicate this poem to her…a very special friend.


Dennis C. Orvis

I know some people won’t agree with me.
I think Mondays’ have been getting a bad deal.
Why, I know people who simply hate Mondays.
The chip on their shoulder shows how they feel.

Not me, my friend and let me tell you why
I cannot wait for Mondays to begin.
They are always special for me because
There’s only four days ’til the next weekend

The Common Cold, Again

Dennis C. Orvis

My oh my, oh my. What did I do to deserve this ordeal?
I’ve got another cold. You won’t believe how bad I feel.
I’ve been coughing for five days and there’s nothing there.
I expect to see my toes flying through the air.

Are my ears getting bigger? Are my eyeballs popping out?
My eyes are really watering. You see my big red snout!
Excuse me. Oh, I think I’m going to sneeze.
A Kleenex? Heavens no! Pass the Bounty please.

Something I’ve got to Know
(just for fun)

Dennis C. Orvis

The heart-shaped X-lax
wasn’t any fun
What I thought was love
has me on the run.
And there’s something I’ve got to know.
Do you still love me?

You didn’t visit
when I was in jail.
You sold my golf clubs
in your yard sale
And there’s something I’ve got to know
Do you still love me?

You took my car
you locked the house
Now you’re calling me a louse
And there’s something I’ve got to know
Do you still love me?

I’m saying everything is
like a fog
I’m begging won’t you please
call off the dog
And there’s something I’ve got to know
Do you still love me?


Dennis C. Orvis

Can you imagine how colorful the world would be
If the lowly farts were in Crayola hues?

I mean seriously, could what we eat
Release some air in many shades of blues?

And everywhere people might be passing by
Quiet gasses would be obvious to your eye.

With blues and yellows forming a splendid green
Or where red and blues collide, purple could be seen.

Now I’m trying to be serious as I can be,
While the cat runs by passing a violet fog,

Bear with me please, it’s so hard to be serious
Watching a blast of orange from the chasing dog.

We’re told that everything that eats cannot help but fart,
Scientists have determined the average number each day,

There are so many questions that quickly come to mind,
Would Lady Bugs pass red with black dots? Would Mockingbirds’ be gray?

For sure the world would be more colorful and
Maybe a happier place somehow.

The only thing different would be the colors,
The farts are with us now.

(The World’s Shortest Poem)
Dennis C. Orvis


Dennis C. Orvis

Remember when our friends arrived from the north.
Leaving behind the many cold weather days,
For golfing, dining, so on and so forth,
Enjoying Florida in so many ways.

How quickly the weeks and months go by,
‘Til reports of spring weather up north are heard.
The packing begins, anxiety runs high
Feelings are kin to the migrating bird.

Snowbirds have become good friends all.
But now the migration once more begins.
Until Summer-like foliage changes to Fall
May our prayers protect you ’til we meet again.

Birthday Greetings

Dennis C. Orvis

I remember back in 2008,
You were only 79 and great

My how the time is flying by
Where it goes, we know not why

Leaving behind memories we can measure
With events and blessings worthy for treasure

And the history we’ve shared, we can’t forget
Wars, floods, violent storms, 9-11 and yet

Life goes on, children and grandchildren bring mirth
Adding purpose and goals for our time on earth

Congratulations dear friend, Happy Birthday to you.
Eighty candles are beautiful (and plenty hot, too!)

May 2009
P.S. your fire alarm is screaming
the fire truck is on the way
the frosting is melting
the ceiling is turning gray

open a window, the smoke is blinding us all
when you find the door, escape through the hall
We can’t see a thing, there’s no place to hide
next year, be safe, light the candles outside!

Note: sent to Dan Diercks May 23, 2009

Dennis C. Orvis


It’s early morning, the sun is peeking, It’s earlyay orningmay, the unsay is eekingpay
Dawn is here, the oceans seeking. Awnday is erehay, the oceanay is eekingpay

The gorgeous view is mine to enjoy, The orgeousgay iewvay is inemay to enjoyay
The beach is real fun, with a digging toy. The eachbay is real unfay with a iggingday oytay

A sandcastle made, until the tide returns, A andcastlesay is ademay until the idetay eturnsray
While lotion protects, from painful sunburns. While otionlay rotectsay from ainfulpay unburnsay

In and out of the water, makes the day complete In and outay of the aterway makes the ayday
Sun fun at the beach, my special retreat.
Sun unfay at the eachbay, my pecialsay etreatray.


It’s mearly orning, the pun is seeking
Hawn is dere, the soceans eeking

The vorgeous giew is ine to menjoy
The feach is real bun with a tigging doy

A mandcastle sade until the ride teturns
While protion lotects from sainful punburns

In and wout of the ater makes the cay domplete,
Sun bun at the feach, my recial spetreat.

Aug 2009
Yesterday! It’s gone!

Dennis C. Orvis

Yesterday! It’s gone! I knew it well.
There were some good times
But now it’s gone.
I hunger for those good times.

Yesterday! It’s gone! I knew it well.
Sometimes I miss the thrill
But now it’s gone.
Though memories linger still.

Yesterday! It’s gone! I knew it well
All alone I seek it.
But now it’s gone.
Chasing smoke with a net.

Yesterday! It’s gone! I knew it well.
Running in jello, moving too slow
But now it’s gone.
Still chained to the past, let me go!

Yesterday! It’s gone! I knew it well.
Demons be off! Let me be!
And now it’s gone.
Regrets no more, finally I’m free.

The Family Meets Fitzgerald

Dennis C. Orvis

When our daughter returned from the pet shop
She brought in a pet cage that was quite small
But when a ferret crawled out her mother fainted
And Grandma jumped for the chandelier in the hall

Grandma’s frightening scream woke the dog, now sliding across the floor
He was spinning out of control until he hit the closed front door
He knocked Grandpa down and water for mother sprayed all over the wall
And Grandma fell landing on Grandpa who luckily broke her fall

The ferret retreated to the pet cage before mother hit the floor
Scared and shaking in a corner, afraid of the cage’ open door
Our daughter hadn’t moved and finally the chaos simmered down
Mother’s standing, grandparents sitting, and Dad’s wearing a frown

The quiet of the moment changed as the water was wiped away
And all eyes were on the pet cage, the open door on display
Our daughter said, “Mom, Dad, Grandma and Grandpa, can I start again?
This is Fitzgerald, a wonderful ferret and soon you’ll be in love with him.”

She reached in and got Fitzgerald, and held him for all to see
“Look, everyone, he’s as soft as goose down but lots more cuddly.
“Pet him, mother, he won’t bite. Come on Grandma, you too, please!”
Reluctantly the hands stroked his fur with even a gentle squeeze.

And that’s how we all met fuzzy Fitzgerald, the ferret,
It’s our daughters’ pet for sure; but we all claim and share it.
Fitzgerald soon learned to come running, whenever we squeaked his toy
But his favorite fun was to hide in the kitchen; open doors aided his joy

Mrs. MacWoosters’ New Watchdog

Dennis C. Orvis

One of our neighbors, Mrs. MacWooster, lives alone.
So she decided to get a dog to protect her and her home.
Describing Mrs. MacWooster, an ostrich comes to mind
Long neck, long legs, hefty torso and a plump behind.

Of course we were pleased, a canine companion for her would be good
We told her to get a dog big enough to do the job he should
So the day came, we saw her drive away, going to the city pound
Now we await patiently for her return to see what she has found.

The long wait’s over; her car just turned the corner heading to her drive
Wow! Its head is sticking out one window, the tail’s out the other side
I recognize the bigheaded breed; the neighborhood will never be the same
Mrs. MacWooster went to the city pound and came home with a full grown Great Dane

She opened the car door, holding the leash and the dog took off like a shot
His long legs were flying; hers too, She’s hollering Whoa General! And Stop!
The Great Dane cut between the houses, circling the one on the right.
Mrs. MacWooster, still running second, holding on with all her might.

Suddenly a cat ran across the path and General slammed on his brakes
Mrs. MacWooster tripped and flipped into the lilacs, giving us double takes
She recovered to drag the scared General into the house
Where he learned to behave indoors like a seasoned pet mouse

But outdoors it was thrilling when Mrs. Mac took General for a walk
It was amazing she could hang on with the death grip of a hawk
With flying legs from the pair, gasping for air, surely not a stroll for the meek
She said she couldn’t get rid of General, though; she is losing six pounds a week.

The Other Side of Spring

Dennis C. Orvis

Yes, I know the flowers and trees are budding
Spring is here, pollen is here, Ahchew! Ahchew!

Everywhere I look, I see a touch of green
On my car, the walk, the driveway, Ahchew! Ahchew!

There’s no place to hide, not even inside
Now I have to wear a mask, Ahchew! Ahchew!

My mask is turning green, my eyes are watering
To make things worse, four more weeks to go. Ahchew! Ahchew!

The Silent Letters

Dennis C. Orvis

Who put the “W” in answer?
That’s something I really would like to know.

I wonder who put the “G” in gnat?
I think every silent letter should go.

Who put the “D” in Wednesday?
It’s a serious matter of concern.

Why the “Y” in bicycle?
It’s so difficult for anyone to learn.

Who put the “A” in eagle?
Shouldn’t it be double E like Bee or tree?

Do we really need an “H” in ghost?
There are so many. English should be silent letter free.


Dennis C. Orvis

Mrs. Finnies husband passed away and she was depressed with heavy grief
Months later her daughter gave her a new puppy for companion relief

He was a miniature Shih Tzu, weighting only a pound or two
With such beautiful long hair, so white and fluffy and a hidden collar of blue

She named the puppy Sprite, so smart and loving with a very cute coiffeur
Oh how she loved that wonderful little ball of fur

But there was a problem when it had to tinkle, you see
The wind would pick up Sprite like a kite and blow him into a tree!

She quickly called the fire department with tears in every word
“My Sprite is up in a tree and I know that he is scared.”

With tongue in cheek they made the trip and saved little Sprite
But warned Mrs. Finnie, “We can’t come here every day and night.”

Mrs. Finnie thanked the firemen and got her husbands’ fly rod from the garage
Now on windy days we see the Mrs. Finnie-Sprite cortege

When Sprite goes out to tinkle and the wind blows him into the air
He’s tied to Mrs. Finnies’ fly rod and she “reels him in with a flair.”

Cyclops, The Cross-eyed Cat

Dennis C. Orvis

Christopher Clippenger had a young cross-eyed cat
Poor little thing never knew where it was at
His color was orange-yellow like a fat pumpkin
But shaped like a squash with a tail on one end

The cat’s name was Cyclops, which doesn’t seem nice
Every time he saw a mouse he thought he saw mice
He needed a helmet, his head was so sore
Always bumping it when he goes out the front door

Cyclops was also bumping into things and chairs
And like a slinky he would come down the stairs
He moves across the floor the speed of a sloth
Holding on like he’s afraid of falling off

One sunny day Cyclops was out in the yard
When out of the bushes came a big St. Bernard
A terrified Cyclops somehow found a tree
And he climbed it faster than a squirrel running free

He climbed pretty high and would not come down
He couldn’t see the St. Bernard or even the ground
He couldn’t see anything because soon it got dark
But he felt better, the dog was gone, so was its’ bark

Night was long and cold, but morning finally arrived
Cyclops couldn’t see clear, but he was still alive
Hunger told him to get down from the tree
With his crossed-eyes and fuzzy vision, easy it would not be

He started to crawl downward; he slipped and began to fall
He bounced off some small limbs, then spinning, fell free
He landed on his head and woke later to Christophers’ call
Cyclops opened his eyes and to his surprise, they were uncrossed
and now he really could see!

How about that? An un-crossed-eyed cat!

The Mountain Setter

Dennis C. Orvis

This is a tale about a tail, well almost; it had a puppy on the other end
In a moment of weakness I ordered it from a website that stole my heart
It was shipped from West Virginia, guaranteed as mans’ best friend
The stated breed is Miniature Mountain Setter Bonaparte

Anxiously through the expected fourteen days, I waited
And I was thrilled when I saw FedEx park in my driveway
I signed the ticket and then picked up the box, elated
I rushed in the house, opened the box and shouted Hooray!

I stared at the reddish-brown puppy with patches of white
It stood up with paws reaching high and tail waggin’ full speed
I picked him up and held the little squirmmer very tight
It had bright shining eyes, yelping happy and then he peed

I should have known but too late, I headed for the back door
I took him right to the back yard and set him on the ground
When he moved I saw something I did not see before
His two left legs were shorter and he’s going ’round and ’round

I quickly got the papers; the phone number and I called the seller
Finally a person answered, “The puppy arrived with two short legs!” I said.
That person had an accent. It was hard understanding that feller
“Sir, does the puppy have white patches on a coat of brownish red?”

“Yes,” I replied. “Does the paper say Mountain Setter,” he asked me.
“Yes, it does,” I said after I read the paper one more time.
“Well, sir! All Mountain Setters have two short legs. It’s evolution, you see.
So they can run when huntin’ on the mountain and they do it just fine.”

“You must be joking,” I said. “How do they run the other direction?”
“Sir! Tell me. Were you born in the city? Those setters just circle back!”
And then he hung up the phone. And a tail’s waggin’ for attention.
I can tell already, affection is one thing he’ll never lack.

So that’s my beautiful Boomerang, leaning as he circles the tree
He is a mountain dog, as I explain to everyone that sees him
And no matter where he goes, he always comes back to me
I’ll tell you, as guaranteed, Boomerang IS my best friend.

Walter Loved to Dance

Dennis C. Orvis

Walter Merski Polushi, how he loved to dance
And the polka was his favorite melody
It was oom pa pa, oom pa pa, every chance
And on the dance floor he certainly would be.

Walter had a problem he tried hard to ignore
But when he got going he forgot about his flaw
He has a peg leg and you can hear it hit the floor
He keeps time with the tuba and hollers for more

At the last dance widow Kowalski grabbed him first
She had her eye on him as a target to wed
She’s dancing a storm and Walter’s begging of thirst
When she spun him the wrong way and unscrewed his peg

Oh my, low and behold it was a sight to see
Walter’s on one leg, pleading the widow to stop
“I can’t polka on one leg,” he cried, “Turn me free!”
“Marry me,” she said, “or we’ll dance the bunny hop!”

Poor Walter’s a gonner, his peg leg is spinning on the floor
His energy is depleted; his defense has been fleeced
Sweating, he looked for pity, only a moment before
She threw him over her shoulder, calling for a Justice of the Peace.

We all stood tall and removed our hats, as those two left the hall
Someone grabbed the spinning peg leg and chased them to the altar
The widow said, “Just wait a bit, I’ll make sure he doesn’t fall.”
A new song played at the next dance, The Peg Leg polka, just for Walter.

Web Humor Group Two
Hannah’s Secret

Dennis C. Orvis

The young lady lives in Cincinnati
And she has a secret, you see
It’s about something she can do
I cannot tell you what, but here’s a clue

Let’s see. Bob can do it, but John will never
That is a surprise. He is pretty clever
The clue? Do you wonder what it can be?
Well? Is her secret still a mystery?

Nalan can but Nathan will wonder why
Elle can but Ella will never try
What is the secret the young lady can do?
If you ask her nice, Hannah might just tell you.

The Cracker Barrel Café

Dennis C. Orvis

I was hungry when I saw a sign, “Cracker Barrel Café.”
The long porch was full of rocking chairs and it lit up my face.

Inside the door, ceiling to floor, I saw things, I guess to sell.
Then some lady said to me, “How many?” a right friendly place.

She said “Follow me.” and I did into a great big gray room.
There in the middle she pointed to a table and a chair.

And then she said to me, “Your waitress will soon be right over.”
And I said to her, “I’m very hungry. I will wait right here.”

Golly, I thought as I looked around the decorated room.
The walls were covered with tools grandpa had on the farm, old things.

And many old pictures of buildings, houses, barns and people.
A washboard and old outdoor signs, some looking moss-covered green.

It made me kind of sad of times before grandpa disappeared.
We rode his horse and ate watermelon in the fall.

Oh boy! It was such great fun we had playing on grandpa’s farm.
Hiding in the hayloft and the fresh sweet corn was best of all.

Suddenly my eyes caught a picture, I moved to look closer.
What I saw stopped me cold; a shocker is all I can say.

It’s a picture of our grandpa; he’s been gone for many years.
Now I found him hanging on the wall at the Cracker Barrel Café.

I’m no longer hungry. I’m writing this on a napkin for you.
I am sure you would like to know what I have seen, that’s all.

But now you must brace yourself, dear brother, it’s going to get worse.
I found Uncle Henry too; he’s hanging on the other wall!

How to Shock the Pool

Dennis C. Orvis

I know you were in a hurry to go swimming with the group

But in your haste, I hate to say, you forgot your swimming suit!

Where’s Scarlett?

Dennis C. Orvis

I had a pet parakeet, its’ color was rosy red,
I called her Scarlett the name popped into my head.

What a wonderful pet she was, learned some words to say
Like, “Hello pretty girl,” and “Have a great day!”

One day I took her to the park, she loved to fly outside
I watched her do some tricks, cute loops and a thrilling glide

A young boy on his bike threw his bubble gum on the ground
Scarlett saw and quickly swooped and swallowed it right down

I yelled, “Don’t do it, Scarlet!” but I was much too slow
She wobbled taking off real strange, flying high, zooming low

It surely gave her gas, a bubble formed on her behind
The bubble grew and grew and grew, she could not fly a level line

Soon she was tail side up, fighting a fight she could not win,
I lost my pet that day, my dear Scarlett, was Gone with the Wind!

Note: My inspiration: I threw my gum out the car window and
my daughter said “Don’t do that, Dad, the birds will get it!”

The Land of Sillyopolus

Dennis C. Orvis

Note: Recently I wrote a new Children’s story by this same title.
This poem is thumbnail review of my trip to Sillyopolus.

I’ve been to the land of Sillyopolus, you won’t believe what I have seen
I met Sherman, a blue grasshopper with yellow legs, usually they are green
Then a honey bee, whizzed by me backwards big as a hotdog, Betsy was her name
Followed by Robert-Robert and Richard-Richard on my shoes, purple bullfrogs the same

An orange mother possum with six kids rainbow colored hanging on her curled tail
And large four o’ clocks flowers singing added melodic beauty to my trail
Then Ordewlay, a tuxedo dressed otter in a top hat called me to hurry
For a ride on Clyde, who was a turtle on his back, it scared the breath out of me

Later I met Maxine and Geraldine, Two Golden finches and two armadillos rolling
It was Bernardo and Horatio rolled up like balls and they thought they were bowling
A really small white gopher with polka dots of red, called a deep voice warning
He was Bosse Hydeho telling me to jump clear out of their way this morning

Then I met Wickett, the crimson cricket so worried of noise the other side of his thicket
Where I found a red jay nesting and I warned Wickett to leave and he did it with a click-it
A big navy blue rabbit with long white ears jumped over me moving really fast
His footprints passed by a few seconds after his jump cleared me and had gone past

I saw two raccoons playing badminton hitting a little fuzzy mole over the net
I tried to stop them from hitting him but the mole said it was fun and I should just git
Then a small elf scammed me with a yellow raspberry on a stick
First he hid behind a cactus like it was some kind of trick

He came back once more and then he absolutely disappeared
If I could have caught him I would have pulled his green beard
That cactus had huge pink flowers that followed my every step
Though still hungry I decided to leave as quick as I could get

Then I saw a Twinkie tree over a fence that grew as it came closer in sight
I tricked the fence by walking backwards and then it got smaller much to my delight
Two albino squirrels enjoyed the fence ride up and down with excited faces
Leaving the fence I sat on a rock. the Twinkies were extremely delicious

I met Hertie, the ladybug and I shared some little Twinkie pieces with her
While out of a bush came a twiddle bird grabbing a Twinkie bite with a blur
Continuing with silly and strange I met a sofa-sized oyster in pain
I then removed a large, black pearl from it and returned to my path again

I was shocked to see a Circus wagon eight miniature white horses pulling it near
With a green Praying Mantis band on top playing music so great to hear
Followed by seven lime colored Llamas with five short ostriches behind
The parade ended with three mini pink elephants skipping in a straight line

Down the hill five red-crown vultures were perched on the top of a billboard
The middle one looked like Ronald Crump, slyly smiling as I read the words
The billboard said go left and I did without knowing where it would end
I heard hundreds of katydids singing Sound of Music, like to hear it again

I entered a forest, daylight faded away I stumbled in the dark of night
Then thousands of multi-colored fireflies formed an arrow showing me the way right
The big eyes of many owls shined spooky as I wandered through the trees
When I came out the other side in daylight the air had a cold serious breeze

It started to snow, then became a blizzard as I moved it was so hard to stand
The snow was blowing terribly baI was cold. I could hardly see either hand
Then I found myself in a long line of penguins that was moving quickly to some unknown place
I didn’t know where and I’m certain I had fear showing all over my face

Suddenly the penguin I was following vanished in front of my eyes
And I could see a long icy slide where sliding did not look very wise
But I was next at the top of this long icy slide, danger was all I could see
I looked for an escape too late, the next penguin pushed without counting three

I yelled as I slid the icy slope then I zoomed wildly into the sky
I felt myself falling from high and fastI landed with a thud, I don’t know where or why
I began shaking and then I heard a voice “Jim! Jim! Wake up! Are you ok?”
I opened my eyes and I saw my wife, “I think so,” is all I could say

She told me I fell out of bed hitting my head which knocked me out
I was somewhat confused you can be sure, as I looked all about
I said to her, “You’ll never believe where I have been!”
“Let me take a wild guess,” she replied “Was it Sillyopolus again?”

The Trophy Fish

Dennis C. Orvis

Philadelphia Fred went to the beach
To fish in the ocean waves
He put the end of his long pole in a holder
Stuck deep in the soggy sand

He put a fat shrimp on his hook
And cast toward the incoming waves
And watched it fly through the morning mist
Wearing a faint smile when he saw it land

Philly sat down on a driftwood log
With his eyes glued to the fishing pole tip
The rhythm of the waves gave gentle tugs
As his bait rolled under the foam

Time passed without notice, Philly Fred
Squinted while the sun glazed the sea
Suddenly his line went stiff and he
Grabbed his bent pole with an excited groan

Philly cranked his reel hard and fast
And tried to turn the hooked fish to the shore
But the fish is tough, holding firm
Swimming hard against the tide
Elated, he believes he has hooked
A trophy fish for sure


Philly could feel the pull get stronger
But did not know what happened down below
His long fishing pole is bending double and
His weathered muscles are straining tight

He dug in his heels as the battle grew,
But he is sliding and losing ground


Philly saw the big hooked fish break the surface
Twisting wildly through the air
Philly’s eyes bulged like a guppy at the huge catch
Now hooked on his fishing pole

And he’s being pulled forward with ease
Into the water up to his knees


Philly lost his balance and he found himself
Surfing into the oceans’ spray
The monstrous big fish quickly turned
And it headed directly out to sea

I knew Philly was in trouble and I hollered,
“Philly! Let go of the pole!”
But he was making a rooster tail
On the water as far as I could see

That was the last time I saw my friend
Fisherman, Philadelphia Fred
Behind his trophy fish skimming
Across the water with Olympic style

Ignoring the danger he was in
And holding fast to his fishing pole
I gave him a ten on his form
But the trophy fish had the biggest smile!

Archie, The Armadillo

Dennis C. Orvis

Something’s been digging in my wife’s flowerbed
She called me the first time to see the fresh dug hole
“It looks like the work of a rabbit,” I said,
“The hole is much too big, it’s surely not a mole!”

She filled the hole’s entrance with chunks of concrete
From a busted concrete block we did not need
To encourage the critter to move down the street
“Anywhere, but here,” she said, pulling out a weed.

The concrete chunks worked, sort of, but ten feet away
In the flowerbed across the yard, you see
It dug a new hole she found the other day
“More concrete,” she said, “to make the critter flee.”

The next time she was tending to her flowers
I got her a cup of water; the Sun was hot and bright.
And then I saw an armadillo, running ahead of me
I was surprised as they are usually out at night.

How funny to watch it run with its shell protection
Pointed nose, stubby little legs and skinny tail
Caught in the open, scurrying with deflection
Into a hedge, my wife and I searched to no avail.

I guess Archie has a hidden secret hole
To escape from any danger there may be
He’s courting trouble in her flowers, you know
But he is lucky so far, he is still running free.


In the land of Sillyopolus
It’s a different sort of populus
Where nothing is ever monotonous

There’s a friendly one you should meet
A singer with dancing feet
With moves to every musical beat

He’s a crimson colored cricket
Who lives in a blueberry thicket
His name’s quite strange you see, it’s Wickett

I came across Wickett the other day
I followed music flowing my way
From his green and blue thicket came a pretty melody

He’s singing, “I’ve got the blueberry blues,
And a heartache I cannot lose”
Singing country fit for the Nashville News

He saw me when I waved a Hi
As he continued his mournful cry
A tempting blueberry caught my eye

I ate a few more berries before he quit
I told him I loved it, every bit
But you know it was time for me to git

“Sing careful,” I said, “be alert when you do.
Remember birds love these berries fat and blue,
And one of them might just love a little crimson, too.”

He waved with a clickit
My friend Wickett
The crimson cricket
And then he moved deeper into the blueberry thicket.


The Taunting Smile

It’s a smile, for sure, on our daughter’s cat
Every time I look her way She’s smiling back at me
What’s so funny? I ask as if she might answer back
She stares, still smiling, the cat named Zoe

I ask you, can cats really be this way?
Looking like Mona Lisa, feline version style
Why do I ask? I’m sure she’ll never say
Is it only to me she gives her taunting smile.


Old Elvis

A friend of mine asked me if I would care for his dog
He had a trip to make and his dog could not go along
It’s a basset hound he said and Old Elvis is his name
I shouldn’t have said ok, ‘cause my life’s not been the same

You see Old Elvis begins to sing when the sun goes down
When the eerie shadows move Old Elvis starts his howling sound
Oh it’s such a mournful cry and his face looks awful sad
Like a hound dog in pain suffering heartache terribly bad

He sits there howling by the window looking toward the door
Looking for my friend I guess, is what he’s waiting for
Old Elvis is a sight with drooping eyes and often tears
And I’m beginning to worry, my friends been gone eleven years.



We’ve got this squirrel in the neighborhood
Known well by all, he’s such a pest
He’s in the bird feeders like a hungry hobo
After a thousand mile ride

The kids all call him Rocky,
But Einstein fits him best
So far nothing we have done
Has kept him from the food inside

I’ve greased the pole
But he scampers up anyway
I hung the feeder under an auto hubcap
But it didn’t slow him at all

The little monster
He scares all the birds away
It’s winter. It’s cold and
I hear their hungry call

I even gave Rocky
A feeder of his own
But he claimed them both
Extremely quick

Tomorrow I’m trying Cayenne pepper
I’ve heard that will do the trick.

I read squirrels don’t like it
Bye, bye, Rocky, hopefully



I was fishing from my small rowboat one day
The water was calm and the sun was shining bright
It was a perfect day, a few clouds floating high
Perfect, except I haven’t had a single bite.

But I must tell you some days that’s just fine
I checked my bobber with a half-opened eye
My boat gently rocks in the soft, summer breeze
And I see a small, dark object in the sky

When the speck gets close I see it’s a little black duck
Circling my part of the lake, looking for a place to land
I sit very still, not to alarm the little fella
And he landed on my boat, the other end.

We both sat there, not making a move
Eye to eye, man and duck, feeling kind of klonk
The little duck jerked when my bobber took a plunge
It opened its beak and said, “Quonk!”

I threw my head back in surprise and tipped up my hat
The duck sounded like goose with a honk
I chuckled a bit, just thinking about it
And he did it again, I heard, “Quonk Quonk!”

My bobber started running so I grabbed my pole
I didn’t know whether to laugh or feel sad
I gave a mighty pull, the fish came out flying
And hit the strange little duck in the head

He fell off the seat to the bottom of the boat
I grabbed him as the fish flopped and jerked
I held the little fella and stroked his back
He came to, looked at me and said, “Quirk!”

I carefully put him back on the seat, he wobbled a bit
Shook his head, stretched his wings and looked back
He came with a Quonk, then he said “Quirk” and took off high into the air
And I yelled, “Good luck little fella, I hope you find your Quack!”


Three Broads from the USA

Wayno, the Water Buffalo, met his buddy Wally at the river
He said, “How are you doing, Wally? How’s it going today?”

“Well, Wayno, I’m doing fine and things were same o’ same o’
Until the tourist buggy came by with three broads from the USA

“I could see them holding cameras and pointing them at me,
And I heard one say, “I hope he smiles and looks this way!”

So I looked their way to smile, but I couldn’t help but laugh
Wishing I could take a picture of three broads from the USA.”

Note: hope you had a wonderful trip!


“Tell me, August, are you an important month? You have no holiday!
I mean, are you special for anything I ought to know?

“Well, let me see.” August said, “The main thing is I am the get-ready month.
Trees will soon be turning and the Harvest Moon will be full.

Summer days are growing shorter, but some remain quite hot.
Children are getting ready for school and summer fun is winding down.

Though I never claimed to be special, neither am I very wild.
Number eight I am, mild and wonderful; bringing summer’s curtain down.”



Hey Sheridan! Where are you going?
I’ve never seen you scamper
Are you moving with your house
Or is that your popup camper

You are moving much too fast
You are working up a sweat
Leaving a clear set of tracks
It’s a trail and it is slightly wet

What’s that you say?
You are too busy to talk?
Ok, Sheridan. Continue, friend
On your morning, sliding walk.


Grampa’s Tooth

Grampa’s got good looking teeth
They’re mostly his he will say

Never had much trouble
Until a cap came off one day

Now a trip to the dentist
Is something he doesn’t like to do

So he fixed the cap himself
With several drops of super glue

He was so pleased over what he did
He celebrated by singing a song

It worked great for a long time,
Until he woke up one day and the cap was gone!


Don’t Mess with Granny

Granny is a spry old gal, weighs near hundred pounds soaking wet.
Four score and a few more, healthy, wants no help, needing none

Adored by family and friends, independent as she can get
And occasionally something she does surprises everyone

Recently, helping her husband in the yard, getting late
She took the wheelbarrow full of weeds to be dumped on the pile

It was the last load of the day, she thought, opening the gate
She emptied the load; glad the task was done for a while

She grabbed the barrow’s handles and for reasons nobody knows
She started running with the old barrow towards the shed

Suddenly it stuck in the ground and granny flew head over toes
It happened so quick she did a flip with thoughts better unsaid

Fortunately, she only had a few bruises, small cuts and sorrow
Her husband hurried right over to see if she was ok

“It could have been worse,” he said, “you could have broken the old wheelbarrow!
But your flip was beautiful! It sure made my day!”

That’s the last thing he remembers. He’ll be out of the hospital tomorrow!



In the land of Sillyopolous
Strange as strange can be

I heard a silly character say
“Are you spidling me?”

You might just be wondering
What does spidling mean?

It’s a new word for sure
But it’s nothing obscene

Spidling is a combo word
Between spoofing and kidding, you see

So when someone talks strange to you
Just say, “Are you spidling me?”



Out of the hills came two-gun Pete
Riding Morris, his near-sighted horse
Who sideswiped a cactus on the way
“OW!” Pete hollered, it hurt of course,
“Watch out, Morris, be more careful,
They really hurt, those cactus and fences!”
He rode into Tombstone to the eye Doc’s place
And happily rode out on Morris,
who was wearing new contact lenses.
whinnied Morris.
He’s happy, too, of course!


Pinellas, the Porcupine

On the trail of the lonesome pine
There’s a sad story I want you to hear

It’s about Pinellas, the porcupine
He’s so lonely, he’s shedding many tear

You see, Pinellas has no friends
Except Stanley a happy, wild-eyed stink bug

He’s a challenge to all his feelings
And at best or worse, Pinellas never gets a hug.

I so wish I could help Pinellas, you see
But I really don’t know where to start

Unanswered letters to Smoky the Bear
Gave Pinellas a serious broken heart

So Dear Abby, you are my last resort
Can you help Pinellas find a friend?

Honestly, there is something I cannot do
It hurts me too much, to hug my friend again.


Cat Questions

If I pull the cat’s tail will his ears get any shorter?
If I grab him by the leg will he kick and scratch at me?

If I grab him by the neck will he holler to get away?
Why’s he hiding under the bed? Why won’t he play with me?


But Blowing Winds are Changing

I’m looking into nature’s beautiful blue sky
At a stack of clouds, so very tall
It looks like Yogi bear without his hat
But Blowing winds are changing; it’s not a bear at all

The high wind has shaped the head
The nose is longer; the body is now rather small
It looks like a standing artic fox
But Blowing winds are changing; it’s not a fox at all

Very interesting, see how those clouds are swirling
Pictures moving without a call
It looks like a white poodle sitting upright
But Blowing winds are changing; it’s not a poodle at all

It is fun watching the wind painting the sky
Moving clouds around the blue at its beck and call
It makes me laugh to see a giraffe or a hippo floating by
But Blowing winds are changing, no clouds, no nothing at all