Don’t Poop in a Group – A Comic Poem

Here’s some silliness to get you past the holiday weekend. I may have been inspired to write this by the antics of my own son, John Adams, but I’m not telling (the pictures speak for themselves). There may be another children’s book in this one.

IMG_0100 (2)

Nancy and John Adams

By the way, I had some great news last week. A guest blog I wrote called, “The Healing Power of Haiku,” will run on the site Business in Rhyme on September 12. I’m very excited about the opportunity. You can find that site with lots of great posts, poetry, and other guest spots at https://businessinrhyme.com/.

Until that posts runs I give you:

Don’t Poop in a Group!
(A Frazzled Dad’s Guide to Life)

By Jason J. Michael

My Dearest Child,

“Don’t poop in a group,”
My mommy said.
It’s simply not done,
Not if you’re well bred.
Go out of the room,
Crawl under your bed,
But not in a group.
Poop solo instead.

Don’t pee on your friends.
It’s simply not nice.
They might let you once,
They won’t let you twice.
In potties, in diapers, on trees should suffice,
But not on your friends,
Whatever their price.

That stuff in your nose
You’re inclined to pick,
Please don’t use your finger,
It makes Mommy sick.
Let’s get you a tissue
And blow it out quick.
Just never your finger
Or, worse yet, that stick!!!

Now if you feel gassy,
And tooting’s a must,
Lord knows you can’t hold it
For fear you might bust.
But know it’s not classy
To trumpet your gust
In closed, confined spaces with friends.
It’s unjust!

About all that belching –
Oh, please make it stop.
Whenever you’ve eaten,
Or drank too much pop,
You sound like a backfiring car in the shop,
Or a gleeful, pink piggy
Whose swimming in slop.

And finally those words
That you speak in a gush,
Whose meanings are fuzzy,
But make grandma blush.
You learned them from grandpa,
But grandpa’s a lush.
There’s one more word for you.
It’s meaning?
No rush.

So that’s my great, big list
Of rules, little chump,
To get you past diapers
And over life’s hump:
Don’t poop, pee, pick
Toot, burp, or swear;
That’s the clump.

Now grab me that beer.
Let’s go yell at the ump!

Love,

Daddy

Don't mind me. I'll just be hiding here in the kitchen...well, you know.

Don’t mind me. I’ll just be hiding here in the kitchen doing…well, you know.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s