Lollipops

My nephew posted this poem on Facebook. We thought it rather amusing.


Lollipops


extemporaneous poem, 3:00 a.m.

I wish I had a lollipop
I would get my fingers sticky unwrapping it
and make annoying smacking noises
Then my lips would sticky be
and colored with my mouth

I could throw it in the air
and try to catch it by the handle
minus two points otherwise
and a drop is death

Or throw it against a wall
to make it crack
or just squeeze it to death
with my teeth
and crunch it

Hold it up to different colored lights
and submerge it in liquids
to see how it glistens,
how it reacts to change.
Forbid a glimmering, fickle lollipop

Let it sit in my cheek
handle jutting out the side of my mouth
and wait until its toxins wrinkle my skin
it stretch my cheek until aches feel
and likely cause a cavity

Discover its scything edge
and regret its existence for days
as acids intaken burn
its remembrance
warm food
the incision's abhorrence

Actually i do not wish for a lollipop anymore
I would throw it away
or give it away
or let it sit away
till doomsday

Questions :
1. What is the author's central message and which stanza best exemplifies it?
2. What rhetorical devices are used to support the message and to what effect and extent is their usage?
3. Which stanza is the most unique and why? (Hint: look for tonal shifts)
4. Compare and contrast the first and last stanzas. How do the similarities and differences mark the author's opinions?
5. Specifically examine the author's use of connotation. How does the author utilize diction to convey his tone, and how does tone contribute to the meaning of the passage?
7. Are there any tonal shifts which highlight certain lines? If so, which lines stand out, and why has the author chosen to bring them to the reader's attention?

The above questions are not necessarily intended to be answered; their very existence supplements the meaning of the poem on many levels: personal, critical, sarcastic, academic, supplemental, automatic, analytical.....

Baffled

I spent much of Friday and Saturday freezing in a tree stand. Saturday morning I had been watching several young does wander though the woods around me, but choose to let them pass. About the time I was ready to quit and head for home to do chores, I hear another deer coming through the woods. It was a nice buck with a decent rack, but he wasn't real close. I had to take a quick shot through a slight opening in the trees. At the shot he bounded away seemingly uninjured. I watched where he headed and tried to follow him. I wandered quietly through the woods for 15 minutes until I saw a group of does milling around at the edge of the woods. I was downwind and they hadn't spotted me. I watched a few seconds and then the buck (which I hadn't seen) stepped into their midst. I had another chance. I aimed and fired and deer went flying out of the woods into the pasture and over the hill, out of sight. Including the buck. I went to the spot where he had been standing to look for evidence of being hit and found none. What I found though, was a quickly expiring doe. A doe???? I shot at a buck, but here was a doe! How could I have missed him again, and how did I hit a doe I wasn't aiming at? We searched the pasture looking for evidence of where he may have gone, but found none. I'm still baffled as to what happened.

Anyway, I field dressed the doe, picked up Matt's already field dressed doe and we headed for the butcher.

3 Chrisendale

In 1981 a new house was built at 3 Chrisendale. In the spring of 1982, my parents moved off of the farm into their retirement house in town (even though they were not yet retirement age).

It didn't stay a house very long. It quickly became a home, a haven, an inn, a banquet center, and a fellowship hall.

I wonder how many hundreds of meals were served here to guests, visitors, and strangers. Or maybe, how many meals were served where there wasn't a guest at the table.
I wonder how many hundreds of overnight guests were lodged in this home.
I wonder how many hundreds (perhaps thousands) of young group singles spent evenings in this house.
I wonder how many thousands of psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs were raised to Heaven from within this home.
I wonder how many thousands of times the Holy Bible was read in this home.
I wonder how many hundreds of thousands of prayers were lifted up to God from within this home.


Today was moving day. The end of an era.
My parents moved to a condo next to our church.

I remember helping Maurie Knapp, Alvin Farney, Dad, and many volunteers build this house. I would show up mid morning after chores, and get razzed by the carpenters for being late.
I remember Fred and I having the old farmhouse to ourselves after they moved out. They left us their old furniture.
I remember going uptown to eat when I was still single.
I remember the marathon family Christmases that took place here annually, as well as all the other holiday gatherings.
I remember visiting here with Grandparents, Great Uncles and Aunts, Uncles and Aunts, parents-in-law, and others who are no longer with us.
I remember all the young group activities we hosted here.
I remember the singings that we siblings and our spouses would host in February while Dad and Mom were in Florida or Arizona.
I remember many of the 26 years of hosting the Bible Class breakfast.
Although I never lived here, it definitely was the hub of the family for 26 years.

This will be a big change for my parents. This will be a big change for the rest of us.
May God bless them in their new home.

Rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation; continuing instant in prayer;
Distributing to the necessity of saints; given to hospitality
Romans 12:12,13

Finished

On a cold, blustery, damp, and cloudy November Saturday afternoon, we finished harvest for the year. It is the latest that I can remember corn harvest ending. Although it was late and the corn refused to dry down normally, it was a good harvest. Excellent yields, minimal downtime, safety, and for the most part cooperative weather made for a good season.
We are thankful and blessed.

Then said she, Sit still, my daughter, until thou know how the matter will fall: for the man will not be in rest, until he have finished the thing this day.
Ruth 3:18