I Want My Mommy

I Want My Mommy

a verse 

by

Steve Fiffer and Sharon Fiffer

Mother went out

Leaving Nicki with Dad.

From the look on her face

He could tell she was sad.

“I want my mommy,”

Nicki said with a pout.

Then she went in her room

And she wouldn’t come out.

“Please Nicki,” Dad said.

“We can have fun today.

We can cook a nice breakfast

Then go out and play.”

“Well,” Nicki said,

“It depends what you’d make.

I’ll come out if you’ll feed me

Chocolate ice cream and cake.”

“Mmm, that was good,”

She said rubbing her tummy.

“But I’m still quite upset.

I still want my mommy.”

She went back to her room

And climbed into her bed.

“Would you come out for me

If I stood on my head?”

She put down her pillow

And opened her door,

Then watched as her father

Got down on the floor.

“That trick was neat

But I’m still feeling blue.

Until Mom comes home

There’s not much you can do.”

“What if I juggled

Three eggs in the air?”

“Do it while standing

On that rocking chair.”

“You did make me laugh

And I’m tempted to stay.

But I’m still sad because

Mommy’s gone for the day.”

“It’s sunny and warm

Nicki, let’s go outside.”

“I’ll go to the park

If you’ll give me a ride.”  (She rides him like a horse.)

“Now that we’re here

I’m not happy at all.”

But maybe I’d smile

If you tossed me a ball.” (The “ball” is a  gala dance.)

“I don’t mean to be bossy

Or stubborn or cross.

It’s just that when Mom’s gone

I feel such a loss.

“The sun’s not so bright

The sky’s not so blue.

I promise you, Daddy,

It’s me. It’s not you.”

“I’ll tell you a story

I’ll play my guitar.

I’ll bake you some brownies

I’ll catch you a star.”

“Look, here comes Mommy

No time to talk.”

Nicki raced out the door

And ran down the walk.

They came in the house

Watched tv, played a game.

Put on their pajamas

But it wasn’t the same.

Mom looked at Nicki

And said, “Why so sad?”

“It’s nothing,” she said.

“I just miss my dad.”

 Slipping out on the porch

Where he strummed his guitar,

She kissed him and said,

“Shall I catch you a star?”

(to be illustrated, we hope).

To Bee or Not to Bee

To Bee or Not to Bee

a verse 

by

Steve Fiffer

“Spelling’s a lost art,”

It’s frequently said.

Spell-check on computers

Makes purists see red.

I have to agree

They’ve got a point when

A class full of kids

Can’t spell ESPN.

Speaking of sports

Did you recently see

The Mavs coach told a backup,

“Spell Dirk Nowitzki.”

The sub stood by the bench

Flummoxed by the test.

And as a result

The star got no rest.

Okay, that one’s false

I have to admit.

But one thing is true:

Most folks spell like sh*t.

Except for the youngsters

Who gather each year

And tackle their Websters

Without any fear.

The national Spell Bee

I always enjoy.

This year the champ was

Sukanya Roy.

Have you noticed a pattern

Emerge in these games?

It’s harder and harder to spell

Winners’ names.

I ask what would make you

More or less tense

Spelling Pratyush Buddiga

Or prospicience?

Ten years ago Pratyush

Started a trend

That looks like it may very well

Never end

“Spell pococurante,”

Said the 2003 jury.

I move that word’s simpler than

Sai R. Gunturi.

Fast forward two Junes

When the victory lap

Was taken by

Anurag Kashyap

If your number was up

Boy don’t you wish ya

Could win spelling guerdon,

Like Sameer Mishra?

This brings us to 2009’s

Winning moniker.

Try sounding this out:

Kavya Shivashankar.

I’m guessing that

Not very many of you

Know Anamika Veeramani

Won first prize, too.

Anamika Veeramani

I’m not making that up

Spelled stromuhr last year

And took home the cup.

“Is there something genetic

About spelling?” you query.

That hasn’t been proven.

I have my own theory.

The more syllables

In a contestant’s name

The more that young person

Achieves spelling fame.

By the time

Anamika writes her name’s 16^th letter

Her competitive skills can’t help but

Get better.

I hazard to say

That’s what the trick is

To conquer a puzzler

Such as cymotrichous.

That word didn’t buckle

Sukanya’s two knees

After her worthy opponent

Botched sorites.

Runner up as it happened

Was one Laura Newcombe.

Hardly a name that

Is likely to spook ‘em.

Indian Americans

Since 2002

Have won 7 of 10

What can you do?

Applaud the work ethic

Study your sheet.

Trace the word on your palm

Ask the judge to repeat.

Dream big spellers all

Fight to be a word-ninja.

But your chances are best

If your roots lie in India.

For Better or Worse?

FOR BETTER…OR WORSE?

A story for grown-ups

By

Steve Fiffer

Some say as you age life gets better,

Well, you judge after reading this verse.

Are we boomers like wine or a carton of milk?

Is life better or does it get worse?

You cannot remember his birthday,

Your keys disappear from your purse.

You rinse and repeat ‘til the toothpaste runs out,

Is life better or does it get worse?

You can’t get a rise in the morning,

Your sex drive is stuck in reverse.

Your spouse suggests separate bedrooms,

Is life better or does it get worse?

Your mother, who’s 90, won’t shut-up,

But your son and your daughter are terse.

They prefer texting or email to chat,

Is life better or does it get worse?

Jars are now harder to open,

One last twist hurts your wrist and you curse,

You can’t open the pills to ease you new pain,

Is life better or does it get worse?

Weakened eyes make it hard to read menus,

Weakened ears make it hard to converse.

Weakened bladder makes sleeping a nightmare,

Is life better or does it get worse?

When you smile at the girl in the health club,

She thinks that you’re being perverse.

You’re nearing the end of your cycle,

Is life better or does it get worse?

Your speed dial no longer has golf pro and barber,

Instead it has doctor and nurse.

They treat you as if you’re an infant,

Is life better or does it get worse?

No matter the depth of the water,

Your belly it cannot immerse.

You float in the pool like a white whale,

Is life better or does it get worse?

You thought you would have enough money,

But the effect of the crash was adverse.

It’s hard to emerge from depression,

Is life better or does it get worse?

You’re bemoaning the downside of aging,

When you’re suddenly passed by a hearse.

Then it strikes you: despite all your problems

It certainly could be much worse.

**

So you cannot remember his birthday,

He stopped counting a long time ago.

And so what if you shampooed with toothpaste?

Your hair has a smile and a glow.

Yes you’re slower to rise in the morning,

It happens to everyone’s glands.

But isn’t it okay if once in a while

You’re happy just to hold hands?

Bless your stars that you still have a mother,

And kids who deep down really care.

They may put you on hold when you call them,

But you know that they’ll always be there.

Run warm water on jars that won’t open,

If pill bottles won’t budge don’t get hot.

Speed-dial doctor and nurse ASAP

And ask for medicinal pot.

Deaf ears are not always a drawback,

What you’d hear you might very well dread.

So pretend you agree with the speaker

By grinning and nodding your head.

Yeah the girl in the gym wasn’t buying,

But what would you do if she did?

She’s not only stronger than you are

She’s barely as old as your kid.

When the folks at the pool eye your belly,

With gallons, not ounces, of wonder,

Remember the bloat serves a function.

It keeps you from going down under.

Your 401 k has gone south for the winter,

Leaving you in the ice and the snow.

History says it will bounce back while you’re still alive.

If it doesn’t, who cares?  You won’t know.

Life is a series of moments,

Some set in stone, some unplanned.

So unless you’d prefer to be in that hearse

Why not live for the moment at hand.

Copyright Steve Fiffer 2011
(but feel free to send this link to others)