Tag Archives: rhyme

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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tyme4rhyme.com

Tyme4Rhyme

So I’ve built a website to house just my poems and rhyming stories, www.tyme4rhyme.com.  The purpose, I guess, to have a site that I can use to promote just that side of my writing (without the sometimes sordid stuff that goes on at BRC!), a link I can send to someone, that sort of thing. I’ve slowly been adding existing posts over the last two days. Not  sure if I like the format yet.

I’m going to leave all of this stuff on BRC, and will continue to post most rhyming stories to both sites. But I may post some shorter poems only to this site. We’ll see, it’s a work in progress.

‘Cause that’s just what I need… another website to worry about… 🙂

Oh… and if you know any starving illustrators who you think would like to draw a pic or two per story in exchange for credit on the site, please send them my way!

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Rhyme Tyme

Let me preface this post by saying…

This is not one of my traditional posts. You will not laugh, you will not cry, you will not be overly entertained. This is just a little self promotion, perhaps a little self reflection, perhaps a little request for input.  I realized today as I was adding my latest rhyming poem, “Things on me are changing…” to my page “Rhyme Tyme” that I now have 18 poems on this page. As I am close to reaching my 200th post, that’s roughly 10% of my posts that have been rhyming stories, which is either really cool… or which means I have a serious mental illness.

Anyhow, I’ve never really added them up, I just add the links as they are published and hope that some naive reader happens by and hits the page and reads some of them.  Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to happen very often. Today, I added them up and was frankly kind of impressed with my little self!

During my recent six-week hiatus from blogging, (which I was happy to discover that many of you noticed) I have to admit to going through one of those blog-polar spells, where on a daily basis I wondered what the point of this whole writing gig is and why I spend so much time on it. It happens every once in a while, as I suspect it happens to all of us. As usual, something clicks and the ideas and the motivation come roaring back and the posts start flowing again.

My motivation?

I think about this a lot and although it’s a complex mixture of ingredients that get me to the keyboard, for the most part, it’s a need to entertain, to write something that has an impact on someone, that makes people laugh or smile or cry or think. The interaction, the comments, the “likes” the subscriptions, the tweets… that’s the reward and just like when we get a paycheck, or a thank you, or a pat on the back… it makes us feel good and keeps us going.

But there’s also, in the back of all of our minds, that idea, that maybe… just maybe… we can write something good enough to be noticed on a larger scale.

I have always felt if there was anything remotely marketable from my blog, out in the real world, it would be some of the rhyming stories I have written, either individually or as a group. Some are these are personal, some are fictional, some are influenced by stuff that happens in my life.  Some are legitimately kid’s stories, some I would classify more as “kids stories for adults!” As these poems will no doubt continue to grow in numbers, I wonder sometimes if I should do something with them.

What? I don’t know. Sometimes I consider consolidating them all onto a separate site geared specifically towards rhyming stories, but the thought of building and maintaining a second website is horribly overwhelming to me. On the other hand, I do feel badly that, for the most part, they will continue to be housed here on Brown Road Chronicles only to rot away like a field of dead zombies during a zombie apocalypse!

So… if you have a few minutes today and want to  read some fun rhyming stories, please check them out. If you are a parent, share them with your kids… or share them with your dog… or your turtle… or whatever.  If you don’t want to, that’s okay, I won’t be offended, I’ll just hold a grudge  on you for the rest of my life.

Kidding…

A few favorites of mine:

From One to Ten

Mr. Smither was in a Dither

When Goats Eat Remotes

The Snow Globe

The Tale of Slobenia Isle

Roadkill Stew

Or click on the Rhyme Tyme link and you can see all of them.

Have fun… and of course… THANKS, as always, to all of you that read this blog on a regular basis!

 

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When Goats Eat Remotes

If you’ve ever had goats, you know they will eat almost anything.

Well…

On Monday my goats ate ten Root Beer floats.
Now when they poop,
It looks like bean soup.

On Tuesday my goats ate all of my coats.
Now when they’re old,
They’ll never be cold.

On Wednesday my goats ate all of my boats.
Now when they pee,
It smells like the sea.

On Thursday my goats ate my anecdotes.
Now they tell stories,
And deep allegories.

On Friday my goats ate all of my votes.
Now one of their goals,
Is to go to the polls.

On Saturday my goats ate all of my quotes.
Now they both speak,
With lots of mystique.

On Sunday my goats ate all my remotes.
Now when they fart,
My TV shows start.

So we took them to the vet…

And at the vets suggestion…

So they don’t get indigestion…

On Monday my goats will only eat Oats…

Because that’s what goats are supposed to eat!

 

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The Dolly with No Head

Let me tell you a story that will fill you with dread.
A tale of the dolly who had no head.
A horrible creature that haunts in the night.
If you were to see it, would give you a fright.

A dastardly tale of lies and deceit.
A memory I’ve tried to keep fairly discrete.
As not to revive those visions I feared.
As not to have people think I am weird.

This dolly, you see, was missing its head.
And somehow it chose to live under my bed.
I never knew, ‘twas it a girl or a boy?
Just a horribly, frightfully, disfigured toy.

Why this dolly picked me, I never quite knew.
Surely there was some other kid who was due,
to have his room haunted, to be filled with fear.
By this dolly who seemed to never appear.

T’was never a sight for my frightful wide eyes.
Looking under the bed seemed profoundly unwise.
So I’d leap to the mattress, climb under the spread.
To avoid being grabbed by the dolly with no head.

So how did I know that this dolly existed?
I’ll tell you the story, beware it’s quite twisted.
I was told by my brother’s that the dolly was there.
Living under my bed and that I should beware!

Then one night I mustered up all of my grit.
With the biggest flashlight my hands would permit.
I entered my room which was darker than black.
I turned on the flashlight, to deter an attack.

Then I crouched on the floor and with chattering teeth,
I inched toward my bed and I peered underneath.
Alas, nothing scary was there to be seen.
From the front to the back or the space in between.

So this moral I learned, you shouldn’t ignore.
What you hear from your siblings is probably lore!
There’s likely no truth to what they have said.
Especially if it involves a dolly with no head!

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A Ghostly Tale

Our old house is sometimes creaky.
Sometimes noisy, sometimes squeaky.
We love it still with all its quirks.
So long as all the plumbing works.

We live there happily undaunted.
Although we’re told the house is haunted.
Our guess is that it’s just a hoax.
Though spirits are elusive folks.

There’s a story ‘bout a ghost that’s told.
She harkens from a time of olde.
We think her name is Abbie Hill.
Albeit we haven’t seen her still.

See, Mrs. Hill and her loving spouse.
They used to own this big old house.
They built it as their family grew.
Way back in Eighteen-Ninety-Two.

Now why she’d rather stick around,
than head off where she should be bound.
The answer, surely no one knows.
But this is how the story goes.

The previous owners told this tale.
To us, before we closed the sale.
They saw her at their kitchen table.
They swore this story was no fable.

She sat there in a kitchen chair.
A fancy bun up in her hair.
She wore a nineteenth-century dress.
Her image had a slight fluoresce.

Then just as fast as she’d appeared.
Her ghostly apparition cleared.
It took all of their common sense.
To explain this strange experience.

Then one night as the wife was sleeping.
She awoke to find the ghost was peeping,
at her, as she lay in bed.
A sight that filled her up with dread.

But this ghost seemed not to bear ill-feeling,
as she played this game of brief revealing.
Then with a touch of Laissez Faire.
She vanished quickly in the air.

So when we heard this new disclosure.
We had to keep our strict composure.
We loved this house with all our might.
Why worry about a ghostly sight?

We bought the house with nervous laughter.
And moved our stuff in shortly after.
Wondering then, to what extent,
We’d see our ghostly resident.

But so far she has not presented.
Apparently she’s quite contented.
To share this house on old Brown Road.
This home with which we’ve been bestowed.

And now we’ve lived here many years.
Shared smiles and laughs and hugs and tears.
Regardless if we’re rich or poor.
We hope we’ll live here many more.

And if our ghost decides to show.
In all her radiance and glow.
I guess we’ll have to let her stay.
To haunt us for another day!

Most of you have read the full Ghost Story here!  If you’d like to read more about Abbie Hill, check out the link! 🙂

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From ONE to TEN

I once thought that ONE was enough.
Me by myself with only my stuff.
But I met a nice girl and love it was true.
We had a big wedding and then we were TWO.

We once thought that TWO was okay.
She and I hanging out every day.
But we drove by a sign that said, “kittens for free!”
We took home a kitten, and then we were THREE.

We once thought that THREE was not bad.
There wasn’t anybody we wanted to add.
But then we decided to get just one more.
A friend for our cat and then we were FOUR.

We once thought that FOUR was just fine.
One cat was her’s and one cat was mine.
One day a beautiful baby arrived.
A sweet little girl, and then we were FIVE.

We once thought that FIVE was alright.
Though space was getting a little bit tight.
But we wanted to add one more kid to the mix.
Along came a boy and then we were SIX.

We once thought that SIX would suffice.
Not a bird or a hamster or a snake would entice.
Then we decided two dogs would be great.
We skipped over SEVEN and went straight to EIGHT.

We once thought that EIGHT would be plenty.
At least it was only eight and not twenty.
Then one of our dogs, she went up to heaven.
Suddenly we were back down to SEVEN.

We once thought that SEVEN would be ample.
Add any more and we’d surely be trampled.
“Would you like two goats” asked a friend of mine?
We took home the goats and then we were NINE.

We once thought that NINE was tidy and neat.
Though we were looking for something to make us complete.
Our daughter liked riding a horse now and then.
So we bought her a horse and then we were TEN.

For now we think TEN is all we can handle.
If we grow any bigger it would sure be a scandal.
But someday we may add some more, I suppose
Then we’ll have to start counting on our fingers AND toes!

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