Drageda

You Don’t Have to Stink to be Good!

After nine months of Hockey
Big Fred finishes a great season
done with the sweating,
the workouts and freezin’
done with the traveling,
time to reorganize his trunk,
done with the hockey bag,
and it really stunk!
Fred re-tapes his stick
at the end of each year,
takes his bag to the cleaner
where they sanitize his gear
goes away on a holiday
stays off ice the whole time
when he gets home he’s recharged
thanks to well planned downtime
Big Fred’s itching to play
now that he’s back
so out comes his hockey bag,
when he gets a whiff of that sack?
“what!, this can’t be mine,
it smells really nice!
I’ll have to play pick-up
to stink this gear up on ice
He proceeds to the arena
feeling big, ready and tough
walks into the dressing room,
all the players smell rough,
they peek above their hockey skates
at Freddie’s rose scented gear
sarcastically they ask him,
“you don’t play much ’round here?”
Smart Fred says very little
‘why give them a clue?’
nods in the affirmative,
thinks, “I’ll shock all of you”
Shinny starts on time
the Referee drops the puck
Fred wins the first face off
skates like a Mac Truck
speed and agility
like hockey ballet
his opponents stand stunned,
“man, this guy can play!”
Big Fred takes a shot
it goes in the five-hole,
and that was the first of six beautiful goals,
while shaking hands
Big Fred laughed where he stood,
then sarcastically told them,
“you don’t have to stink to be good!”

By Barbara Tremblay Cipak, Copyrighted

A Hockey Poem:
Is the incredible stink of hockey equipment a badge of toughness, of working hard…well here’s a poem to put this one away.

Too Deep

My husband says my poems are too deep
Complains they are too elusive
So forgive me please
This one’s for him
I’m keeping it simple for stupid!

Twenty long years ago I was struck by cupid
Got me right through the heart
Grown wiser since then
Tore it down to size
Now it’s a three inch dart

Don’t get me wrong you’re a fabulous guy
And I’ll always love ya honey
But if I had to do it over again
I’m telling you straight
I’de have to do it for money

Worry not my sweet you will always be
My little balding eagle
You’re always there
With your food dish in hand
Much like Charlie’s Beagle

I’ll stop teasing you
after all you gave me four perfect sons
They’re gorgeous like a seaside tide
Don’t get excited babe
You must have figured out
They get that from my family’s side

Ok Ok I’ll say something nice
You really are a great father
But before your head swells
Remember this, it takes a real man
To make a daughter

So this love poem is for you
All these compliments yours to keep
Can you tell how much
You’re appreciated now
Or was I just a little too deep!

From “the wife” (hee hee)
“You know I love ya honey”

By Barbara Tremblay Cipak

Poem, Joke: Alright, I wrote this as a joke for my husband. He finds my poetry too deep, so I decided to dedicate this “simple” poem to him. Ha! Ok, he laughed. I mean really! when I have to create a grade school poem for the hubster to appreciate it…I give up. Not. So this is for the man of my dreams *ahem*.

The Honey Do List Gone Wild for Unemployed Men!

Wash the damn car
Seal the driveway
Clean the air filters
Empty the vacuum bag
Cut the frigging grass
Organize the garage
Paint
See that chair, don’t sit in it.
The dishes are piling up, let’s get ‘er done.
But wait, it’s raining, get the clothes off the line, FAST.
Look in the fridge, what do you see? Nothing?
Get busy, here’s the list, off you go. Have fun.
What took you so long! Gheesh.
You what! You bought a new lawnmower!
Let’s do the math. The square footage of the house is like
ten times that of the lawn, so why didn’t you buy a new vacuum?
Just wondering.Shrug.
Here’s the credit card, go buy the kids their school stuff.
Did you get the mail today?
About that credit card, don’t you dare!
You’re back already?
What! The car broke down!
Take the car in.
How much? Here’s the other damn credit card.
Your son wants a new video game.
Don’t you dare!
Fix that leaking tub.
You can’t fix that leaking tub?
Hire a plumber that takes a credit card.
About that credit card.
Did you see the hydro bill!
Too bad we can’t use the credit card.
Wait. I think we can.
The little guy wants some more candy.
Use the card.
How much is our house worth?
I was just wondering if there would be enough equity
to pay off the credit cards.
About those cards.
Fill up the car. You really need the card for that.
How much?
Can you walk to hockey?
Beer. We need beer.
At least we’re getting airmiles, yippee.
We need a new roof
We need new windows
When will the patio be finished?
About that credit card.
Credit card declined.
Now what?
Who’s your favourite realtor?
Me? “Grin” Yeah I got a Listing.

By Barbara Tremblay Cipak

Poem, Humor for Unemployed Men: Hey guys, you know there is some pathetic truth to this poem. Just wanted to make you smile. My honey barely cracked one when I read it. I wonder why?

Since My Family Never Reads My Poetry

I’m gonna tell you all their wicked little secrets
wait til you hear this stuff
*rubs hand in evil twist*..
I mean, since I don’t have to worry
about them ever finding…THIS WEB PAGE!
Payback’s a bee-ouch.
You won’t believe what your eyes are about to smell
hold on to your suntans and get ready,
I call this: “Reality Poetry”..
oh yah baby, it’s gonna curl your nose hairs.
All their juicy tidbits or rather
idiosyncrasies
gone awry
every twitch they make,
on www display.
ooooh, you will be so entertained and I will be so
therapied. <—(Move over Colbert, this word’s mine)
It’s going to be my finest moment and face it,
you WILL need some popcorn for this.
I’ll wait.
Go get some.
Now…..for the ‘piesta-resistance’
Get out the tissues,
cause you are going to cry from laughing.
Ok, first my Seven children…
umm what’s that snear dear reader,
“I’m contributing to over-population, am I?”
I heard that thought.
Seven children, and who’s reading this…YOU.
Yes, my web-child, you.
All the tales of holy cow are about to reach you.
Take a deep breath and hold on
for the wildest ride of your life…
Here Goes:
One is sort of like ‘you know’,
and three are like ‘exactly that’,
two are..unhuh..you guessed it!
and one is everything you’re thinking!
Tune in next week.
When I spill about everyone else…
stayed tuned.

”alla famiglia!”

By Barbara Tremblay Cipak, Copyrighted

Since My Family Never Reads My Poetry:
Ok. Who’s reading your poetry? Is it your family? Well, if they aren’t, here’s a little “www” threat you can toss their way Plus I figure I have a good shot at having my poetry whipped out at my funeral - great stuff here for the Eulogy: Gonna call my first poetry book - “Things to Read After I Bite It”