I read nursery rhymes to my kids when they were little. They enjoyed them.

 

The other day I got to thinking that nursery rhymes didn’t have to be just for children.  And so, I’d like to share with you . . .

 

 

Nursery Rhymes For You And Me—The Inspiring Dozen

 

Note: Each of the twelve new nursery rhymes has a rhyme pattern similar to that of a famous nursery rhyme. See if you can guess the famous nursery rhyme on which each poem is based. You can find the answers at the bottom of this blog post.

 

 

Larry Carey

 

Larry Carey reached for the ball.

Larry Carey was not that tall.

All the boys who had made fun of his size

Couldn’t believe Larry would get the prize.

 

Larry Carey was not a fool.

Larry Carey did well in school.

He played baseball in quite an amazing way.

Rich and famous, he’s a big star today.

 

 

Her Looks, Her Smile

 

Her looks, her smile,

A soft French kiss is my style.

In close I move, inside the car.

It must be, I’ve come so far.

 

Her look, no smile,

Should I have waited awhile?

I pull back fast, inside the car.

It won’t be, I’d gone too far.

 

Pete And Liz

 

Pete and Liz were in showbiz

To get a smile and laughter.

Pete told jokes

To laughing folks,

But Liz was a disaster.

 

Pete and Liz gave up showbiz

To have a family.

Liz loved kids

And raised them well,

But Pete was a mystery.

 

 

Handy Dandy Candy

 

The handy dandy candy sat on the closet shelf.

Then the door did open by a tiny elf.

He reached up and tried to get the candy down,

But it was out of reach, which left him with a dismal frown.

 

 

Wrinkle, Wrinkle, Aging Face

 

Wrinkle, wrinkle, aging face,

How did I get to this place?

In the mirror is this guy,

I see him and want to cry.

Wrinkle, wrinkle, aging face,

How did I get to this place?

 

When the day is done, I sigh.

My aching body asks, “Why?”

I recline in my chair and sit,

Knowing it’s not time to quit.

Wrinkle, wrinkle, aging face,

How did I get to this place?

 

 

Sally Ran A Romance Scam

 

Sally ran a romance scam

To find a wealthy man.

And she told rich guys big lies.

To win them over, her plan. 

 

Poor James came to her home one day.

Had her scheme gone amiss?

She didn’t know how to treat this,

So she blew him a kiss,

 

And thought he would go on his way.

But no, he didn’t leave.

With head held high, he waited.

For love, he did believe.

 

Sally wondered if she’d been wrong.

Was wealth the key to love?

She left the house to join James,

As heaven glowed above.

 

I’m The Man Of The Hour

 

I’m the man of the hour,

Good and bright.

This is my story.

You know I’m right.

 

Follow my every word,

I’m the man.

This is it.

I have a plan.

 

This you’ll soon discover,

For it is true.

Now let me show you

What I can do.

 

Just believe me, and see.

It is my way.

This is my game,

And you must play.

 

 

Sam Green

 

Sam Green could be quite mean.

His wife would curse and yell.

And so on their nice street, you see,

They were neighbors from hell.

 

Sam would make a scene.

Jean pointed and glared.

They stood like king and queen,

And made the neighbors mad.

 

 

Quiet Sue Chan

 

Quiet Sue Chan had lost her man

And didn’t know how to find him.

Her friend, Pat, said, “He’ll soon come home.”

She kissed him and hung up the phone.

 

Quiet Sue Chan fell fast asleep

And dreamt about seeing her man.

When she awoke, she shook in dread,

As she saw a man standing in front of her bed.

 

The man knelt down on one knee,

And said, “Will you marry me?”

She gasped and couldn’t reply.

“If you say, ‘Yes,’ my sister, Pat, will be   happy,” he said with a sigh.

 

 

Flush, Little Laddie

 

Flush, little laddie, don’t be absurd.

The potty won’t swallow you, just the turd.

And if it does, don’t be afraid.

That’s why Mommy hired a very good maid.

 

And if the maid can’t help you,

Mommy will get a skilled plumber, who knows what to do.

And if the plumber finds no way,

Mommy’s handyman will save you today.

 

And if the handyman should fail,

Mommy will throw you a very big pail.

And if the big pail doesn’t do it,

Mommy will leave the bathroom lickety-split.

 

But don’t cry son, Mommy did her best.

Mommy will call 9-1-1; they’ll do the rest.

And if that doesn’t work very well,

Just wipe your butt clean, get off the pot, Mommy won’t tell.

 

 

It’s Mind-Blowing, It’s Glowing

 

It’s mind-blowing, it’s glowing.

The conductor’s all-knowing.

He raises his hand and leads the band,

And beautiful music starts flowing.

 

 

Trickery Pickery Hock

 

Trickery pickery hock,

The thief stole a jeweled clock.

The clock glowed bright

This seemed so right.

Trickery pickery hock.

 

Trickery pickery hock,

The thief stole a jeweled clock.

The clock alarm blared,

A police siren aired.

Trickery pickery hock.

 

Trickery pickery hock,

The thief stole a jeweled clock.

He went to jail.

The clock went on sale.

Trickery pickery hock.

 

 

 

Famous Poem/New Poem

 

Humpty Dumpty/Larry Carey

Star Light, Star Bright/ Her Looks/Her Smile

Jack And Jill/Pete And Liz

Itsy Bitsy Spider/Handy Dandy Candy

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star/Wrinkle, Wrinkle, Aging Face

Mary Had A Little Lamb/Sally Ran A Romance Scam

I’m A Little Teapot/I’m The Man Of The Hour

Jack Sprat/Sam Green

Little Bo Peep/Quiet Sue Chan

Hush, Little Baby/Flush, Little Laddie

It’s Raining, It’s Pouring/It’s Mind-Blowing, It’s Glowing

Hickory Dickory Dock/Trickery Pickery Hock

 

 

Copyright © 2023 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.

We have demons in our life that haunt us. How to get rid of them can be a mystery.

 

We seek help, but can be surprised by . . .

 

 

Death By Prescription

 

     Crash! Bang! Oh, my God! What’s going on upstairs? I can’t handle the noise anymore. His erratic behavior is going to be the death of me.

     Oh, Lord, he’s coming down the steps. Now what? I cringed in fear.         

    Hide. I’ve got to hide, I thought. But before I could do so, he burst into the kitchen. His eyes bulged out. He had the meanest look on his face.

     He glared at me and screamed, “You ugly hussy. What the hell did you do with my watch?”

     “Uh.” I hesitated for a moment. “It’s on your wrist.”

     He didn’t say anything. He clenched his fists, grit his teeth, and left the house. I heard the car door slam, and then the car roared down the driveway. I trembled and struggled to catch my breath.

     I picked up the phone and dialed Dr. Learner’s number. Sophia, a respected psychiatrist, is my trusted therapist. I share my most personal thoughts with her.    

     “Hello. This is Dr. Learner’s office. How can I help you?”

     “I need to talk to the doctor, and I have to talk to her now!” I blurted.

     “But that’s not possible. She’s with a patient.”

     “I don’t care. Interrupt her.”

     “Who am I talking to?”

     “Lori Weaver.”

     “Well, Miss Weaver, I can take a message, and the doctor will call you back later today.”

     “It’s ‘Mrs.’ Weaver, and that’s why I must talk to her, now!”

     “Okay, I apologize, ‘Mrs.’ Weaver, but the doctor still can’t talk to you. So give me your . . .”

     “Are you deaf? Put . . . her . . . on . . . the . . . phone!”

     “Can you come in at four o’clock today? We had a cancellation.”

     “What don’t you understand about talking to her, now?”

     The phone went dead. I sat, trying to control my anger. And then . . .

     “Hello, Lori, what’s happening?”

     “He’s doing it again? ”

     “You’re talking about your husband, Leopold?”

     “Who else would I be talking about?”

     “Okay. Take a deep breath and relax.”

     “I don’t need to relax. I need to talk about Leopold.”

     “All right. What did he do now?”

     “He’s being himself.”

     “What do you mean by that?”

     “Don’t put me through this therapy crap. You know what I mean.”

     “Maybe I do. But I need to know if his behavior is the same as it was before, or, if it’s different. Has it gotten worse than when we talked about him at your last appointment.”

     “Worse. Much worse.”

     “In what way?”

     “He treats me like a piece of crap.”

     “Has he hit you?”

     “I wish he would. Then I’d know I mean something to him.”

     “So you want him to be abusive?”

     “I didn’t say that. You’re putting words in my mouth.”

     “Then be more specific.”

     “He yells at me, and then walks away and ignores me. I don’t exist.”

     “Do you think there’s another woman in his life?”

     “You think he’s cheating on me?”

     “I don’t know, but it’s something we must consider. He is good looking.”

     “What? How do you know? You’ve never met him.”

     “I apologize if I’m jumping to conclusions. At one of our earlier sessions, I thought you said he was handsome and had a nice smile.”

     “Nice smile? How would I know? He never smiles. You’re confusing me.”

     “I’m sorry. Let’s change the subject. When you first started coming to me, you told me your father wasn’t the nicest man.”

     “No, he wasn’t. But what does that have to do with Leopold?”

     “They both looked at other women, didn’t they? And your father cheated on your mother.”

     “Yes, my father was unfaithful. But, Leopold? He’s too self-absorbed. This line of questioning doesn’t make sense and it’s making me very anxious.”

     “Perhaps it’s best we stop this conversation. Let me call in a prescription to help calm you down.”

     “An anxiety drug?”

     “Yes, I think it might help. I’ll also set up an appointment for two weeks from today, at three o’clock.”

     “Okay. Thank you for listening. Maybe I’m just too uptight to have a productive discussion. The pills will relax me, right?”

     “They should. Pick them up this evening and begin taking them, only one per day, as needed. I’ll see you in two weeks. Good-bye.”

     “Good-bye.” I hung up the phone. I couldn’t get our conversation out of my mind. Was Leopold cheating on me? And, if he was, with whom?

     I went into the backyard and began watering my plants. I’d always found this to be relaxing. My cell phone began to vibrate in my back pocket. I grabbed it and muttered, ”Hello.” A recorded message told me my prescription was ready.

     Then it vibrated again. I tapped answer. A harsh voice said, “Lori, it’s Leopold. I’m going to be a little late. I have to make a stop.”

     “Leopold, I have to pick up a prescription my psychiatrist wrote for me. Since the pharmacy’s close to your office, could you get it?”

     “What’s it for?” he asked.

     “My anxiety.”  

     “I’ve been on edge all day,” he said. "Mind if I take one or . . ."

     “Just one. Where do you have to stop?”

     “I need to drop off some paperwork. Gotta go. See you soon.”

     Before I could say anything else, he hung up. I completed my watering and went into the house to prepare dinner. I turned on the TV to watch the news and awaited his arrival.

     Two hours passed and I became worried. And then the TV blared, “’Breaking News.’ A man driving a black Lexus died in a head on collision on Highway 55.”

     “No!” I yelled. “That’s Leopold’s car.”

     I grabbed the phone and called the Highway Patrol. They confirmed it was Leopold who died in the accident and said they were sorry for my loss. Since the cause of the unfortunate incident needed to be investigated, his body and car and its contents couldn’t be released to me for at least a week.

         A week passed and nobody got back to me. I got up the next morning and picked up the newspaper from my driveway. On the front page, the headline stated, “Driver Killed on Highway 55 Died from Ingesting a High Dosage Anxiety Pill.” The article stated that the warning on the drug container label read, “COULD CAUSE DEATH.” Because of an undiagnosed, weakened heart condition, the driver should not have taken this medication. It further specified the car was demolished, but they found a beautifully wrapped package, with a red rose on top, in the back seat. Amazingly, the package was unscathed.

     An officer appeared at my door a couple of hours later and handed me the package. How could I have believed such bad things about Leopold? He was coming home to give me a gift, probably to make up for his behavior that morning. I guess I’m the bad person, I thought.

     I hugged the package and walked over to the living room couch and sat down. I opened it and saw a card on top of the tissue paper, in which the gift was wrapped.

     I pulled the card out of the envelope and gasped for breath. It read, “My dearest Sophia, thanks to you, the awful demon will soon be put to rest, by the drug overdose you prescribed, and will no longer curse me. I look forward to our future together. All my love, Leopold.”

 

 

Copyright © 2023 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.

Are leaders made or born? Do they have our best interests at heart?

Should we follow them without question? Or should we cause them to ask . . .

 

 Why Don’t You Trust Me?

Can’t you see

I’m

a good person,

friendly,

passionate,

someone you

can count on.

I’m better

than most,

and can

be trusted

to do

the right thing.

 

You seem

to be questioning

what I’m saying,

but why?

You think

I can’t live up

to my own expectations.

How did you come

to that conclusion?

You don’t

know me

well enough.

 

I have a vision

of myself—

one others

can only dream about,

but never achieve.

From an early age,

people used to stare

at me

and wonder about

my promising future.

 

I grew up

with other youngsters

who looked

at me

in awe.

I was the “man.”

 

Why are you

shaking

your head?

You’re saying

I’m full

of myself.

You can’t

believe that.

 

I am

what I am—

a leader.

I show others

the way

every day.

I keep them

from wandering

off the path—

from falling

into the deep abyss

of failure.

My words

captivate them

and motivate them

to succeed.

 

No,

they don’t

fear me.

And, yes,

they do

as I say,

because they

believe in me.

 

What is it

about me

that makes

you cringe?

Is it because

my strengths

are a reminder

of your weaknesses?

 

Do you

have my ability

to lead others

to a haven

of peace

and tranquility?

You don’t,

do you?

Do you want

to be me?

Admit it.

 

You’re shaking,

But why?

You see me

as a freak,

you say—

a monster

who will ruin

the lives

of others.

 

You can’t

be serious.

I’m one

to be loved,

not demeaned.

I succeed,

where all

others fail.

 

And you?

Who are you?

Nobody.

Leave now

or embrace me

with open arms

because I am

better than you.

 

I

am

the leader

you

must follow.

 

I

am

the happy ending

you

will not reach

and never

know why,

unless

you

trust

Me.

 

 

Copyright © 2023 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.

Life can be unpredictable. Things happen when least expected.

 

Many questions arise, as you will see in . . .

 

 

Goldilocks And The Three Bares

 

     It was 9:00 pm and I was bushed. I’d worked a twelve-hour day and I couldn’t see straight. I wanted to crawl into bed, close my eyes, and disappear from the cruel world that controlled me. But it was too early.

     I sat in the huge brown recliner in the living room and drifted off. My eyes drooped and . . .

     “Jared, why is the dog barking?”

     “Huh, I don’t know.”

     “Well, go find out.”

     “Why don’t you go? I was almost asleep.”

     “If you’re going to sleep, go to bed.”

     “It’s too early. If I go to bed now, I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and lay there staring at the ceiling.”

     “Well, you’re up now. So go check on the dog.”

     “But I don’t hear any barking.”

     “Guess she stopped. Make sure she’s in the house. You know how the neighbors get when she’s out in the yard barking.”

     “Why is that my job? She’s your dog.”

     “My dog? She’s our dog.”

     “You’re the one who wanted a huge goldendoodle, not me.”

     “You love her, don’t you?”

     “Yeah, I guess.”

     “So make sure she’s in the house.”

     “Okay, you win, Cindy.” I brought the chair to an upright position, slid out of it, and plodded to the back door. I opened it and screeched, “Goldilocks, get your ass in the house.” She didn’t come. “Goldilocks, come now!”

     She’s not barking anymore and she has a doggie door. Let her come in that way, I thought. As I began to close the door, she came charging into the house, jumped up, put her paws on my shoulders, and began slobbering all over my face.

     “Down, girl!” I yelled.

     “What are you screaming about?” Cindy shouted.

     “Your dog attacked me.”

     “Our dog would never do that. She loves you.”

     I decided not to push the issue anymore. It was now past ten and I figured it would be best to close up the house and go to bed. Cindy must have felt the same way, because she joined me in the bedroom. We washed up and got into bed—Cindy on the right side, me on the left, and Goldilocks in the middle. If I wanted to get intimate with a female, it would have to be the dog.

     I put the pillow around my head and, within seconds, fell asleep. Then my body was being nudged.

     “Wake up, Jared. Something’s splashing around in the pool,” Cindy said, very concerned.

     “What? I was fast asleep.”

     “You need to check and make sure nothing’s wrong.”

     “I’ll do it in the morning. It’s probably a squirrel or some other creatures taking a bath. Just go back to bed.”

     “But Goldi’s not here.”

     “She’s probably out in the backyard playing with them.”

     “Well, go get her. If she starts barking, she’ll wake the neighbors.”

     Before I could move my lethargic body, Goldilocks came barreling into the bedroom and jumped over me onto the bed. “She’s back,” I murmured.

     “Don’t you think I know that,” Cindy snarled. “Good night!”

     The next morning, the sun shined trough the bedroom window. I stared into the warmest eyes I’d ever seen and Goldi gave me a passionate kiss.

     “Aren’t you going to work today?” Cindy asked.

     “Aren’t you?” I replied.

     “I asked you first,” she grunted.

     “I’m working from home. After my long day yesterday, I need my space. And you?”

     “I don’t have to be there until eleven for our office meeting.”

     Time seemed to fly by. There were no interruptions. I worked on the computer, made a few calls, and watched Goldilocks sleep in her bed across from my desk and get up to go pee in the backyard a couple of times. Nothing much to brag about.

     At 5:15 pm, Cindy entered the house from the garage. “What a day I had,” she moaned. “Nothing went right.”

     “So, tell me what happened.”

     “Later. I’ve got to get undressed.”

     I started to straighten my desk and file some papers, when Cindy came back into the room. She seemed to be holding something behind her back and had a scowl on her face.

     “You don’t look good”, I said.

     “Oh, you’re so right.” She stared at me, with daggers in her eyes. “You’re cheating on me, aren’t you!” she screamed.

     “Cheating on you? Why would I do that?”

     “I found this sticking out from under the bed on my side. And it’s not mine. So, ‘Mr. I’m Not Cheating,’ what do you have to say?”

     She held a bra in her hand, waving it back and forth. “Uh, I’ve never seen that before.”

     “Come on, own up to it, or I’m leaving.”

     “Cindy, it’s not mine. It’s too small.”

     “That’s not funny. This is our marriage I’m talking about.”

     “I know, but I don’t know anything about the bra. And I love you.”

     “Then where did it come from?”

     “I have no idea, but we’ll figure it out.”

     After dinner, I followed Goldi outside twice. She sniffed and smelled and pooped, nothing more. So I figured, it would be a calm and quiet night. We watched TV. Then Cindy headed to the bedroom and I went into the den to check my email.

     I was about shut down my computer for the evening, when the phone rang. “Hello,” I said.

     “Jared, it’s your neighbor, Ben.”

     “What’s up, Ben? Is Goldi barking?”

     “Only once or twice. But I think she may have jumped into your pool.”

     “That’s weird. She’s never done that before. I’ll go check. Thanks for giving me a heads up.”

     I hung up the phone and headed toward the back door. Goldilocks, standing by the dog door, inside the house, shook, spewing water throughout the laundry room. Everything was dripping.

     “Goldi, calm down,” I said. But she continued to shake. Come on, girl, stop!”

     To my surprise, she held something in her mouth. But, when I started to reach for it, she ran away. To her, it was playtime. I chased her into the living room and she came toward me and dropped it at my feet, expecting me to take it and throw it.

     I picked it up and almost choked on my saliva. It was a pair of women’s panties. Clutching them, I headed to the bedroom, with Goldi following me. Cindy was sitting in bed reading.

     She looked at me and asked, “What are you holding?”

     I leaned forward and whispered, “My girlfriend’s panties.”

     “Your what?”

     “You heard me.” I twirled them around with my index finger.

     “Where did they come from?”

     “The backyard, I guess. I think Goldi jumped in the pool to get them.”

     “How did they get into the pool? We haven’t used it in months. And they’re not mine.”

     “Damned if I know, but I’m going to find out.”

     I made sure all the doors in the house were locked. I shut off the outside lights, grabbed my supersized flashlight, exited through the garage to the side of the house, and moved down the pathway to the pool, with Goldi following close behind.

     Then, without warning, Goldilocks bolted ahead of me toward the hot tub. With my flashlight pointed at the tub, I froze. There, to my amazement, sat three naked young women, with Goldi standing outside the tub licking their faces.

     “Hi, Mr. Alby,” they chanted in unison.

     I gasped, covered my eyes, and hustled into the house to tell Cindy the true story of “Goldilocks and the Three Bares.”

 

 

Copyright © 2023 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.