Here is a little bit lighter of a topic for today: I am going to share a few poems with you, but first you need the background story. . .
The year was 1999, me (7 months pregnant with Garrett) and my husband of 4 years moved in with my parents while we waited for our house to be built. My father worked for the Navigators, and met with men one on one to disciple and encourage them in their walk with the Lord. It just so happened that the best time for him to meet with guys was for breakfast before they headed to work. SO, my dad would get up around 5 am and leave the house. My bladder (since I was ‘with child’) usually woke me up shortly after he left each morning. Once entering the facilities, I was greeted with a little, shall we say ‘friend’ every morning in the potty from my dad! Being ‘with child’, one is less likely to be tactful about things of this nature and after about a week I explained to him one night over dinner that I didn’t want to flush his waste every morning!!!
His response to me at dinner was a smile, and on the toilet seat the next morning I found a piece of paper with a poem written on it (with said ‘friend’ looking at me)
In a rush, no time to flush.
Don’t say a word, just flush the turd!
Left for work, could do no other,
If I pulled the handle,
I’d have waked your mother.
~Signed: The Bathroom Poet
Needless to say, I awoke her with my laughter! However, he was just getting started!
The following morning this greeted my eyes . . .
Little poopie in the pot,
Should I flush or should I not.
It’s covered with water
And doesn’t stink.
My mind is whirling
And I can’t think.
To flush it now could be a mistake.
For people in the house it might awake.
I have decided , I’ll flush it down,
Before I leave and go to town.
If it wakes you up I am so sorry.
At least you heard the whole of the story.
It wasn’t careless and without a thought.
That I flushed this poopie down the pot.
~Signed: The Bathroom Poet
I WAS ROLLING! He is just so witty and hilarious sometimes…
Mom and I got together after breakfast that morning, and we decided to attempt to write one of our own and this was the result:
My writing ability does not compare
To the Bathroom Poet who is losing his hair.
But I shall try my very best,
In doing this I do not jest.
My thanks to you the Poetry nerd,
For flushing down the morning turd!
A few days later (after a few days of silence), this was the last I heard from “The Bathroom Poet”.
Little poopie in the stool,
Waiting here for my whirlpool.
He pulled the lever, soon I’ll be,
Slipping, sliding, filled with glee.
Here it comes, “Oh what a blast”
Down the chute and sewer at last.
The rides a kick, but when it ends,
I float around with all my friends!
~Signed: The Bathroom Poet
My dad kept the original copies all these years and photocopied them for me at Thanksgiving a few years ago so I could relive the ‘good ole’ days! I bet he didn’t think that they would end up on a public website for everyone to read!! Ha ha.
Oh, and if you visit this entry and don’t have SOME kind of comment, you just aren’t human!
I hope you enjoyed reading them as much as I enjoyed remembering them!