When trite accidently oozes out

Hi everyone,

Taxes are done! Making headway on revising a story. Thinking about the second poem for the planned new group. Got some rain we need. Our cherry tree is in gorgeous full bloom. Our poor old tree-that-won’t-finish-dying is still leaning stubbornly into the wind. Is this nice or what? (Kurt Vonnegut’s uncle used to say that and I love Vonnegut’s work.)

Today is a one meeting day so I’ll have maybe eleven hours to work. That should get me another fifteen or maybe twenty pages revised. Stand back, world. I have a full pot of coffee and I’m feeling my oats.

Oh lord. Did I really say, “feeling my oats?” That’s just SO yesterday. Jane, you’re going to take me to task. I can feel it! Sigh.



14 comments on “When trite accidently oozes out

  1. Feeling My Oats

    “Feeling my oats,” said the old horse,
    reaching for the cereal bowl,
    piling on bananas,
    pulling out a spoon.

    “Feeling my oats,” said the old cow,
    stepping from the stanchion,,
    mixing up a milkshake,
    gazing at the moon.

    “Feeling my oats,” said the old sow,
    mashing up the fibers,
    swilling round the barnyard,
    “They are a great boon.”

    “Feeling my oats,” said the old farmer,
    reaching for his dear wife,
    underneath the coverlet.
    “You will feel it soon.”

    ©2017 Jane Yolen all rights reserved

    • To Jane who inspires us.

      Feeling My Oats, #2

      “Feeling my oats,”
      said the old writer,
      sitting at the keyboard
      greeting the day.

      “Feeling my oats,”
      said the old artist,
      sipping on her coffee,
      sketching away.

      “Feeling my oats,”
      said the old editor.
      “Is this version better?
      I can only pray.”

      “Feeling my oats,”
      said the young reader.
      “Someone made a book
      for me to love. Yay!”

      (c) David L. Harrison

      • Is This Version Better

        Said the editor.
        Said the writer.
        Said the second chief.

        Said the plumber,
        Said the hairdresser,
        Said the second wife.

        Said the old boyfriend,
        Said the recent widow.
        Said the convert of belief.

        Said the programmer.
        Said the musician.
        Said the dead man
        about life.

        ©2017 Jane Yolen all rights reserved

      • Much Better

        The editor
        told the writer
        who told the second chief,
        “Much better.”

        The plumber
        told the hairdresser
        who told the second wife,
        “Problem solved.”

        The old boyfriend
        told the recent widow
        who told the convert of belief,
        “For sure.”

        The programmer
        told the musician,
        “Like the dead man,
        it’s dissolved.”

        (c) 2017 David L. Harrison

    • Back to Oats
      For Mary Nida

      The farmer said,
      “It’s time too plant my oats.”

      The young man said,
      “It’s time to sow my oats.”

      The old woman said,
      “It’s time to feel my oats.”

      The old man said,
      “It’s time to gum my oats. “

  2. Morning Update!

    Don’t start your day with a bowl of oats,
    that’s old fashioned and cliche!
    Wait in line for a cup of Joe,
    That’s how it’s done today!

    Good day to you, David! Although I must say – I prefer oats to coffee! (especially with this darn dry socket! Still feeling the pain, and quite tired of it!)

    • Thank you for joining the fun, dear Susan! I can’t believe you’re still suffering from your dry socket! So sorry. What kind of relief can you get, and when? Soon I hope!

  3. Advil – LOTS of Advil! Went in yesterday to have some medicated gauze packed in – it fell out. Ugh! Best medicine? Being with kids and listening to the funny things they say! Off to sub at a mountain school today! Great kids, and close to my house!

    • Yow! You’re having way too much trouble with this thing. I’m surprised that you can manage to sub when you’re feeling so bad. Good luck!

  4. OK–avert your eyes if you are for our new president and his “ideas.”

    Speaking of Mr. T.

    What once was solved
    Is now devolved.
    We’re not evolved
    It seems.

    You’re not absolved,
    Just too involved
    In messing up
    our dreams.

    We want a country
    safe of course
    But not the course
    you take.

    So please dissolve
    your angry tweets,
    and think of what’s
    at stake.

    ©2017 Jane Yolen all rights reserved

  5. Hmmm, nobody touching that one with a 10 foot pole!
    Perhaps if we build a wall to protect us from it…?
    Oh, wait, wasn’t it a couple decades back we broke down the Berlin wall?
    Break, build, its all politics at our expense.

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