<![CDATA[PAGE & SPINE - C-NOV-DEC\'13]]>Sun, 18 Feb 2018 09:04:23 -0500Weebly<![CDATA[CRUMBS ~ December 27, 2013]]>Fri, 27 Dec 2013 15:51:58 GMThttp://pagespineficshowcase.com/c-nov-dec13/december-27-2013Does anyone else hear a disturbing resemblance 
between The Little Drummer Boy and Ravel's Bolero?
- L. Oliver Bright

               Deep Thinking

On nature’s creations poets solemnly expound
From the mighty oak to the humble aloe
And like them my verse could be deeply profound
If I just weren’t so gosh darned shallow

                                                          - Rick Blum
copyright 2013


I love Christmas lights -- white, red and green. 
Wait, that's the traffic going to back to the mall!
 – Jenny Harp

<![CDATA[December 20, 2013]]>Fri, 20 Dec 2013 16:01:26 GMThttp://pagespineficshowcase.com/c-nov-dec13/december-20-2013We have Santa Monica, Santa Maria, Santa Barbara, Santa Anita 
... and Santa Claus.  
Anyone else notice something odd?
- L. Oliver Bright

There once was a reindeer named Dancer
Who paired in the traces with Prancer.
The reindeer turned pink.
Ole Santa did wink.
What happened?  Miss Prancer won’t answer.

                                                     - Emily
Snowflakes circle softly
As they fall from the sky
I watch them in awed wonder
Till one plops in my eye.

                                          - N.K. Wagner
<![CDATA[December 13, 2013]]>Fri, 13 Dec 2013 16:08:17 GMThttp://pagespineficshowcase.com/c-nov-dec13/december-13-2013I believe supper is a meal I should be able to enjoy in my slippers.  
Dinner cramps my toes. 
– L. Oliver Bright

There was a girl made to take Latin, 
She hated exams that she sat in.
Her words convoluted,
"Carpe diem!" she hooted.
And fled with the class to Manhattan.

- Jenny Harp

All alone with prowlers in the house. 
Damn squirrels. 
– Charles Lucas

<![CDATA[December 6, 2013]]>Fri, 06 Dec 2013 16:17:01 GMThttp://pagespineficshowcase.com/c-nov-dec13/december-6-2013I believe a mid-life crisis is merely puberty’s festering last fling. 
–L. Oliver Bright


The pretty young circle said to the triangle, "Whats your angle on this?"
"Angle? I don't have an angle!" he replied. And he stomped off perplexed.
Square shrugged and told her, "Oh, he's just being obtuse!"

                                                                                                              - Jenny Harp

There once was a fella called Shirley.
He hated his name, it was girly.
He met a gal, Fred.
And Fred he did wed,
And since, nevermore is he surly.

                                                       -Jenny Harp

<![CDATA[NOVEMBER 29, 2013]]>Fri, 29 Nov 2013 09:46:04 GMThttp://pagespineficshowcase.com/c-nov-dec13/november-29-2013I believe Canada has its own Thanksgiving Day . . . 
when they celebrate
“We’re not fifty-one!  We’re not fifty-one!"
Can you blame them?
– L. Oliver Bright

                                                                STUFFING, THE UN-DRESSING

     I believe more food is wasted on Thanksgiving than any other day of he year (I have no scientific proof, but it stands to reason).  Why?  Thanksgiving Dinner has become too convenient, too easy to come by and too cardboard to truly enjoy.  Just look at the quality of the typical holiday meal we give thanks for.
     We buy turkey by the pound . . . and pay for it the same way.  Butterball is to Thanksgiving what Hallmark is to Valentine’s Day . . . hey, we lick the envelope, right?  And if we’ll let our tongues slurp glue in the name of love, what won’t we tolerate in the name of thankfulness?  Besides, gravy covers a multitude of sins … as well as the table cloth.
     It’s a good thing, too.  Look at the other mediocrity that graces our table. ‘Dressing’ and ‘stuffing’ are geographically-specific terms for breadcrumbs and sage.  Ever-versatile potatoes are mashed!  Mashed potatoes are the Plain Jane of every Thanksgiving Table.  A tuber injustice!  Neither are candied yams as toothsome as advertised.
    Then there are the veggies.  I believe green bean casserole is the new definition of ubiquitous.  Indian pudding should be sent back to Calcutta . . . with our deepest thanks.  (Oh.  It’s not…?  Well, thanks, Mom.) And all foods named ‘squash’ need new P.R. firms.
     I believe tryptophan is a myth.  It’s all that heavy fork-lifting that puts us to sleep (and watching the Detroit Lions).  And I don’t care what Dunkin Donuts says, I believe pumpkin pie and coffee should remain separate food groups.
     But no matter what fuels it, I believe Thanksgiving is too much about the turkey, and not enough about Al Roker enjoying the Macy’s Parade.
     Of course, if Benjamin Franklin had had his way, and the turkey had become our national bird, we all might have been eating bald eagle yesterday.

                                                                       Enjoy the leftovers!

                                                                             Nikki & Ollie

<![CDATA[NOVEMBER 22, 2013]]>Fri, 22 Nov 2013 09:56:33 GMThttp://pagespineficshowcase.com/c-nov-dec13/november-22-2013Ever wonder if crows fly as straight as we’ve been led to believe--
a word to the wise, eh?
- L. Oliver Bright

The Novel Approach

 I am writing a novel.
"Why?" you say,
And I reply,
Write a novel in a month,

Curled in my recliner,
Drinking an espresso.
Quantity is the aim,
For now.
50,000 words.
1667 words a day.

Well, not yesterday,

And today,
I am baby sitting.

Maybe there is a
Write a half-novel in a month,
- Jenny Harp

Hatchet Job

     Don't you get up on your high horse. You woulda done it, too.
     I carried that man's babies, all five of you. Walked the floors with you, kept you quiet so's he could sleep, fed you, kept you entertained, made sure you done your homework, put you to bed while he planted hisself in front of the TV every night. Cuz he needed to relax after a hard day.
     I fixed his meals--grew the vegetables, raised the chickens, cut their heads off and picked 'em clean (you remember? There was a time you liked to help), because no store-bought biddy was good enough for his mama's fried chicken recipe. I cleaned his house, dressed pretty when he came home, never once told him no. You know that? Not once.
     You know I never finished school, neither, 'cause that man was in such an all-fire hurry to get hitched. He had no cause to go lookin' for greener pastures. He's in for a rude awakening, let me tell you. No one'll do what I did for him.
     But I woulda been okay. Really. I was mad, sure, but I can't deny it was kinda restful, after thirty years, to buy a TV dinner and watch a chick flick without nobody complaining about it. But when my mama's diamond disappeared from the safe deposit box, I knowed what he did. Gave it to his tramp. That's when I said: enough is enough!
     You didn't think I had it in me, did you? Thought I was some mousy, obedient little wifey who'd just lay down and take it. Just sit by an' smile while she charmed you all--all his friends, all his family. Thought I'd smile while she took over my house, repainted my walls, tore out my mama's heirloom roses an' put in that ridiculous tope-eye-airy.
     Well, I learned you all better, didn't I?
     See, I knew where the hatchet was, and more important, I knew how to use it. Them fancy-pants sculpted shrubberies didn't stand a chance against me. Who sculpts Buddha out of a juniper tree, anyway? Waste of good money, that. Only seemed proper to start in on the shutters and the windows.
     Do I regret it, now that I'm spendin' a few weeks in lockup? Naw. It felt good. What's that word they use? Cathartic? The look on his face was worth every blessed minute, an' then some.
     But you shoulda told me it was you taken my mama's diamond.

                                                                                         -  Kathleen M. Basi

 Copyright 2013. Reprinted from http://kathleenbasi.com/blog.

<![CDATA[November 15, 2013]]>Fri, 15 Nov 2013 15:28:44 GMThttp://pagespineficshowcase.com/c-nov-dec13/november-15-2013I believe the future is just a stop-gap measure. 
- L. Oliver Bright

First Love

     When I was six years old, I stood in my front yard and watched my best friend Bill run into the street and get hit by a car.
     My best friend Bill was the cutest little dog ever! He was jet black – all over. Even his eyes were black.  And so sparkly!  We played in the yard all day. When my mother called us for lunch, we’d go in and I always shared whatever I had with Bill.  He especially liked baloney sandwiches.
     Bill was a good dog. He never went out of the yard, but this one day, we were playing ball and I threw it a little too hard and it went over the fence and into the road. Bill chased it and ran right into the path of a car.
     That night, my father sat by my bed struggling to say something to make me stop crying.
     “You’ll have lots of other dogs,” he said. “As time passes, your memories of Bill will fade and you might even forget all about him.”
    I always thought my dad was the smartest man in the world, but he was wrong about that.
     I never forgot Bill! How could I?

    The summer before I got my first dog, I visited my paternal grandparents. My Aunt Margie, who was in her teens, had a boyfriend named – you guessed it – Bill. I fell in love with him!
     I don’t know exactly how old my aunt was but I was convinced she’d soon marry Bill and I’d get to call him “Uncle Bill.”
    That didn’t happen. And I never forgave her!
    So when I went back home and my dad brought an adorable little black puppy home and said we could keep him, I immediately said, “His name is Bill!”

    My dad was right about one thing. I did have many dogs after Bill. And I loved them all, but somehow, I think your first dog must be like your first love.
    No matter how many come after, you never forget your first.

                                                                                                - Peggy Toney Horton

copyright 2013

"The wife I love" has become "the Wi Fi I love."  This is progress? 
– Jenny Harp

<![CDATA[November 8, 2013]]>Fri, 08 Nov 2013 15:37:20 GMThttp://pagespineficshowcase.com/c-nov-dec13/november-8-2013I believe terrorism has more than one name.
- L. Oliver Bright

There now is a crowd who is ruling.
These out-of-touch folks who are drooling,
They're all in the gov'ment,
This group causing torment.
We voted for change who're we fooling?

                                                    - Jenny Harp


My only gripe about politicians is 
they’ve become so expensive 
only the rich can afford to own one. 
– Fred Waiss

<![CDATA[November 1, 2013]]>Fri, 01 Nov 2013 14:44:32 GMThttp://pagespineficshowcase.com/c-nov-dec13/november-1-2013I believe most ‘Smart’ phones are used by the woefully under-qualified. 
– L. Oliver Bright

A diet Garcinia has gripped me!
I want it to intern'ly snip me.
I've tried whacky diets,
The look-at-me try its.
I hope into shape it'll whip me.

                               - Jenny Harp

        A Leaf-ly Solution

While contemplating Autumn leaves
of every shape and hue,
I wipe my nose upon my sleeves
and ponder what to do.

Admiring nature’s tapestry
reveals a darker side.
Each leaf will soon depart its tree,
on my lawn to abide.

I’ve raked the buggers into piles,
I’ve blown them into drifts.
I’ve bagged and lugged them seeming miles.
They’ve given my back fits.

So now I’ve hit on next year’s plan
I’m proud to share with you.
I’ll tackle this job like a man
And spray on super glue.

                                           -N.K. Wagner