Tag Archives: poetry

An Ode from Naughty to Heath

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Our goat Heath died back in July of 2014. Although this is not current news, as I was not writing at the time, this milestone did not make it onto Brown Road Chronicles. To those that have not been around since the beginning of this blog, Heath was one of the first two goats we had here at Brown Road and half of the “World Famous Goats” Naughty and Heath, stars of many-a-story as BRC was growing into an epic World Famous blog. Heath was a storied creature with painted fur, regal horns and an exquisitely coiffed beard. If you are interested, some of the highlights are here:

Goats in Coats

A Primer on the Rampant Stereotyping of Hillbilly Goats

When Goats Eat Remotes

A Cease and Desist Letter to  McDonald’s from My Attorneys

Lost… Goat Style!

A Moment in Time

Brown Road Chronicles T-shirts

Heath was an old goat and died peacefully of old age. He had been failing for some time and although the thought to put him down was constantly in the back of our minds, he seemed mostly content and so we put off the inevitable. He laid on his side one night in a stall in the barn, unable to get up, and we knew nature would take its course.

In good hillbilly fashion, we cremated him the following evening in a large bonfire, while we sat around and reminisced. Kim and I drank a bunch of wine and got drunk and cried a little bit. That night when I went into the barn I saw Naughty scratching something into the dirt floor while the other goats watched. I sat down on a stump of wood in the barn, sipping from my glass and waited for him to finish before running inside and grabbing a note pad and pencil.

This is what it said:

Oh Heath, my friend, I’ll miss you now, so here I share this simple ode
To honor thou, the life we shared in grassy fields on old Brown Road
Transcendent summer days we spent in speckled sun and dappled shade
And hunkered down inside our barn when winter brought its white cascade

Our days went by with scarce a thought what legacy we’d soon behold
But fame it grew in local lore with anecdotal stories told
In fictive tales and epic yarns of life amongst the Warner brood
Your star shined bright amongst the breadth of stories read and photos viewed

But battles, though we may win some, against thine adversary, age
That time must come, when all that’s left is that which dons the printed page
So I move on to coming days with Holly, Ella, Jack and Moo
But filled with cherished memories of special times I spent with you

Yeah, I was impressed too. RIP Heath, we’ll keep the Brown Road Chronicles legacy going!

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In a Pickle

Have you ever tried to grab,
A pickle from a jar?
Its swimming in the juice.
Down very, very far.

First you try your hands.
Five finger grabbers each.
Your hand goes in the jar.
But that pickle’s out of reach!

The pickle glares back at you.
On it’s face, a smirk!
You come to the conclusion.
Your hands aren’t going to work.

You go into the drawer.
That holds the silverware.
You glance back towards the jar.
And see that pickle glare.

You grab yourself a fork.
The longest you can find.
You have a plan in place.
You’ll sneak up from behind.

You reach into the jar.
That pickle’s oh so near.
You jab down with that fork.
As if you had a spear.

But that pickle has a plan.
It gives your fork the slip.
It dodges and it weaves.
You try to keep your grip.

You jab down with that fork again.
You’ve got something to prove.
You just can’t seem to catch it.
That pickle’s on the move!

Then finally you connect.
You spear it with the tines.
You start to lift that pickle,
From deep in its confines.

But when you’re just about to,
Get that pickle from the jar.
Something awful happens
Something so bizarre!

Your progress gets impeded.
A challenging impasse.
That pickle is too long.
It catches on the glass!

It falls off of the fork.
And dives back towards the juice.
Once again that pickle,
Is free and on the loose.

You hear that pickle laugh.
It’s averted your attack.
You close the pickle jar.
And decide to put it back.

You know you’ve been defeated.
You gave it your best shot.
Instead you eat an Apple.
‘Cause they don’t fight a lot!

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A Noisy Old Place

My old house is a noisy old place…

Sometimes my house makes a whispy-whish-woo
When windows are open and winds blowing through
And sometimes my house makes a-rat-a-tat-tat
When rain’s pouring down on its roof like a hat

And sometimes my house makes a zoom-zooma-zoom
When it’s hot and there’s fans blowing air ‘round the room
And sometimes my house makes a crackity-pop
When it’s cold and the woodstove is burning non-stop

And sometimes my house make a ticka-tick-tock
When gears are wound tight on the grandfather clock
And sometimes my house makes a meepy-meep-beep
When alarm clocks go off and wake us from sleep

And sometimes my house makes a clump-a-dump-bump
When water gets pulled through the well by the pump
And sometimes my house makes a clinky-clink-clank
When hot water goes through the pipes from the tank

And sometimes my house makes an eeeky-squeak-creak
When stair steps are loose or the floor boards are weak
And sometimes my house make a thumpity-thump
When a cat on a windowsill chooses to jump

And sometimes my house makes a gushy-gish-gush
When stuff in the toilet goes down with a flush
And sometimes my house makes a gurgly-goo
When stuff in the toilet can’t make it quite through

And sometimes my house makes a whesha-whish-whesh
When the washer is getting our clothes clean and fresh
And sometimes my house makes a hum-de-dum-dum
When the dryer spins clothes in it’s rotating drum

And sometimes my house makes a…

Yakety-yak and a ticky-tak-talk and a chitty-chit-chat and a smoochity-smooch and a lovey-bug-hug and a sniffly-sniff and a hacky-yack-hack and a tooty-toot-toot and a giggly-goo and a sing-sangy-song and a laughity-laugh and a… zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz… and so many more!

And those are the sounds that I most want to hear
The sounds that my house enjoys all through the year
The sounds of my family, the big and the small
Those are the bestiest-best-sounds of all!

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The Dad Store

A little boy named Jonny, got tired of his Dad.
He went into the Dad Store, to see what else they had.
The choices were so many, of every shape and size.
All with different skill sets, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

He stood there in the Dad Store, feeling sort of lost.
He didn’t know quite where to start or what a Dad might cost.
His confidence was waning, he turned back towards the door.
But in his way, a salesperson said “welcome to our store!”

“I’ll help you find a Dad today, let me show you ‘round.”
“‘Cause when it comes to Dad Stores, we are world-renowned.”
“I’m only here to help you, I don’t work on commission.”
“I’ll help you find a Dad today, just give me your permission.”

Jonny said “I guess so, please show me what you’ve got.”
“I didn’t bring much money, I just can’t spend a lot.”
The salesman looked at Jonny, a big smile on his face.
“We’ll work within your budget, you’ve come to the right place!”

“Let’s start here with the athletes, the ones who teach you sports.”
“The ones who’ll have you spend your days on fields and rinks and courts.”
“They’ll teach you lots of lessons, to take one on the chin.”
“And why it so important, to always try to win!”

“Over here’s the wealthy Dads, the ones with tons of money.”
“They’re always at their offices, on rainy days or sunny.”
“They’re mostly not around much, not when you want to play.”
“They’ll buy you lots of stuff though, new gifts for every day.”

“This aisle is the Brainy Dads, the ones who’ll be your buddy.”
“When hanging out means books and such and lots of time to study.”
“Report cards with a load of A’s, your only affirmation.”
“They’ll push you to a 4.0, a Harvard education!”

But Jonny didn’t want these Dads, with all their quirky rules.
He didn’t want that pressure, of money, sports, or schools.
“I only want a Dad” he said, “who’ll love me every day.”
“Regardless of the grades I get or all the sports I play.”

“I want a Dad who’ll hug me, when I’m feeling down.”
“I want a Dad who’ll make me laugh by acting like a clown.”
“Who’ll teach me to be brave enough to try things on my own.”
“Who’ll be the closest friend I have, when I feel alone.”

The salesman looked at Jonny, digesting what he’d heard.
He paused for just  a moment, before he said a word.
“I’m sure that we can find a Dad, the one you just prescribed!”
“With all those special qualities, the ones you just described!”

Then Jonny said “I’m sorry but I think I know who’s best.”
“I think I know a Dad who’s so much different from the rest.”
“That’s the Dad I have at home, who’ll stand so far above.”
“That’s the Dad, no matter what, the one I’ll always love!”

Happy Father’s Day to ALL the amazing Dads out there! Whether we realize it or not, we provide an integral part of the package that helps our kids grow into caring and responsible adults. Thank you  for being a loving, involved father to your kids, you ARE making the world a better place!

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