Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Snoring in His Sleep

I never, ever snore
I said with a straight face.
She smiled and then
With twinkling eyes
And dignity and grace,
Said... "You snore so loud
I cannot go to sleep.
It's such a terrible sound --
My God --
The angels even weep."

She said "I'm going to show you,
I'll record you in the night
Enough of your denials
We'll listen at first light."
At break of dawn
She played the tape
I thought I heard her snicker.
The sound began
Slow and low
Then louder and much quicker!

I thought it was a train
Roaring through the dark!
A violent crash,
A bomb, perhaps
Set off by a spark?
Or maybe a volcano
A tsunami
Churning In the deep
Nah, it was just yours truly
Snoring in his sleep!

© 2008 by Jacob Anson. All Rights Reserved


This is a noodle
Today's prestidigitation.
Deciphering the codes of
Existential confusion.
You'll not find conclusions.
God doesn't provide
Answers defacto
When questions collide.

It's like what they said
To you when so youthful
Keep plugging along
Do something useful.
Not that it matters
Mild, meek or bold;
You're still gonna croak
But first you'll get old!

© 2006 by Ansohn; 2008 by Jacob Anson. All Rights Reserved.

Sunday, March 23, 2008

What To Do When You Lose Something

I lost something today
Nothing important
A trifle, really.
Still, it drove me crazy.
How did it happen
Where did it go?

I searched, as they say,
High and low
But had no success.
It disappeared into
A dusty vortex of

But then there it was!
It just showed up!
The stupid thing
Sat out in the open
As if it had never left
So what did I lose?

I lost temporarily
The sense of myself
And my ability
To meet and to deal
With the daily
Confusions of life.

And the thought came to me
That this was a trifle
Nothing of value.
But what if my life
Had depended on it?
Then I'd be dead.

Now that was a worry
And my heart filled with
Dread - a dread very deep.
So, I brushed all my teeth
Said all of my prayers
And went off to bed to sleep!

© 2006 by Ansohn; 2008 by Jacob Anson. All Rights Reserved.

Thursday, March 20, 2008


By way of explanation...you'll notice that a number of these poems are recycled. They were published on my previous blog of the same name, Creative Confections, during the years 2006 - 2007.

You'll also notice that most, but not all, of the poems, carry some kind of a message -- not necessarily profound, maybe a bit profane, hopefully always kinda fun.

The poem "A Play Upon a Word," has been modified slightly from its original version.

Hope you enjoy looking at life poetically...


A Play Upon a Word

The author
Laid upon
The ground.
She was bruised
And shaken.
She said that
She was sorry,
That it was really
Quite absurd.
She fell, she said,
While she was
Trying to
Play upon -
A word!

© 2006 by Ansohn; 2008 by Jacob Anson. All Rights Reserved

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Surfing at Night

All I've got to say
About people who
Stay up all night
Surfing the Net
Writing emails...is

I understand

The only problem
I can see is
If you've got a job
Then you oughta
Go to bed...'cause

The boss may
Not understand...

Why you're so tired
So disgruntled
So plain miserable
She might decide
To replace you...

Which is definitely
Not good...

So write a novel
A best-selling one
And quit the
Nine to five
You can do it...

All you need is

Or find another
Way to live
Free, without a care
Then surf your
Little heart away...

It's better than
Being dead.

© 2006 by Ansohn; 2008 by Jacob Anson. All Rights Reserved.

Monday, March 17, 2008

A "Game" of Cat and Mouse

You look very
Handsome tonight
The cat said to
The mouse.
Wait a minute
Said the mouse
If by that you mean
I'm edible
I'll give you some
Kumquats instead.

Kumquats, shumquats
Said the cat
Come a little closer
I want you
For a movie
About a
Haunted house.
But you
Of course
The mouse
Will end up dead.

The cat was on
The move now
Eyes glowing yellow
In the dark.
Stay where you are
Cried the mouse
His back against
The wall.
Maybe you're
A liar like
All the other cats
I know.
The cat smiled
No I want to be
Your agent
I think we'll
Have a ball.

I don't know from movies
I don't know
How to act
Said the mouse.
You'll play a mouse
For God's sake
Just be yourself and
You'll do fine
Said the sneaking cat.
But like many
Would-be stars
The mouse noticed way
Too late
The cat had crossed
The room -
The last thing he
Remembered was...

I won't be in
A movie
About a haunted
I won't be
Playing the lead
They'll get a
Bigger mouse
Perhaps they'll even
Get a rat.
I should have been
More careful, 'cause
If a cat is
In the room
A mouse must know
At all times
Where that cat
Is at!

This poem was originally published on January 31, 2006

[© 2006 by Ansohn; 2008 by Jacob Anson. All Rights Reserved.]

Sunday, March 16, 2008

A Tryst in the Woods

Stealthily they parked their bikes
And sneaked off for a tryst.
When they'd gotten out of sight
They stopped and then they kissed.

He took her hand and led her down
A winding, woodsy path
She skipped a bit and smiled at him
He couldn't help but laugh

They'd planned this tryst so long ago
A secret rendevous
It was hard to get away
But they knew what to do

They sat down by an old oak tree
She leaned against his chest
He gently kissed her golden hair
A loving, kind caress.

"Wait," she said and sat up straight
"Did you hear that sound?"
"No, I didn't near a thing
"Now sit yourself back down."

She sat but quite reluctantly
Then turned and they locked lips.
He would have done a whole lot more
But they both heard a hiss.

The trees began a-hollering
They were filled with dread
Until they saw materialize
Their own three sneaky kids.

"Oh, ho," the kids said, laughing hard
You can't go on a tryst
Without your children whom you love
And whom you'd dearly miss.

The kids broke out a basket full
Of bread and cheese and wine
And everyone who shared this tryst
Had a real good time.

© 2008 by Jacob Anson. All Rights Reserved

Signs That Go to Seed

Signs like this proliferate
Ev'ry Easter season
Someone thinks that we should know
The Easter season's reason.

But they junk up the neighborhood
And they mess up our town
'Cause several weeks past Easter
They still ain't taken down.

I wonder why so many folks
Seem to feel this need
To set these sermons on the lawn
And let them go to seed.

© 2008 by Jacob Anson - All Rights Reserved

The Gospel of the Easter Bunny

(The Book of Heaven's Hare)

It is a hare-raising tale
Sorta sad, sorta funny
For once upon a time
There was a special bunny
Who brought the people joy
And taught them to have fun
Yet even as they laughed and danced
His life became undone.

An archaeological dig
In lower Percydocyair
Unveiled the previously unknown
Book of Heaven's Hare
Significantly the book was found
One foggy Easter morn
On the very day they say
That Heaven's Hare was born.

Deciphering this gospel text
Scholars have made clear
Heaven's Hare was neither sex
That's why he was so dear
Women loved him, so did men
And children loved him too
Watching him hop around
Made them feel like new.

Every other week or so
He'd gather all around
And he would teach that heaven

Was a happy hopping ground
And everyone could go there
If they would just forget
Their lust for eating animals
And feed on healthy carrots.

These lessons were so well received
They got to be a habit
All the people came to call
The hare their reverend rabbit
He spoke of the importance
Of tending to the gardens

To see that all the vegetables
Were gloriously resplendent.

But then one day some hunters
Carrying great big guns
Told Heaven's Hare he'd better go
Back to where he'd come from
Reverend Rabbit stood his ground

He wasn't even scared
He told them throw your weapons down
For I am Heaven's Hare.

They didn't throw their weapons down
They drew a bead on him
He took off hopping out of town
Things got pretty grim
They pulled their triggers all at once

The air exploded sound
And when the smoke had disappeared
The hare was not around.

All the people ran to see
If he was dead and gone
The children sobbed tearily
Then broke out in a song
Oh Heaven's Hare, Oh Heaven's Hare
We loved you, O dear Heart
We'll tend your garden faithfully
'Til this life we depart.

Suddenly, a voice, a cry
I see, I see, the Hare
He just flew up into the sky
There he is, there!
But no one else could see the bunny
Heaven's Hare was gone
Something though was very funny
Or very, very wrong.

The children saw them first
And shouted out for joy

Strewn along the bunny's path
Were brightly-colored toys

Then a girl named Mary
Who had long and good strong legs
Ran into a meadow full
Of brightly-colored eggs.

Reverend Hare, Reverend Hare
All began to chant
For they believed in Heaven's Hare
And they were adamant

Then another miracle occurred

The eggs had multiplied
And everyone realized
Heaven's Hare
had never died.

Thank goodness they discovered
This Easter Bunny gospel

'Cause lots of folks alive today
Have become infidels
They long ago gave up belief
In an egg-laying Heaven's Hare
And it is such a great relief

To have the truth laid bare.

So Heaven's Hare still lives
His Easter eggs abound
And every single brand-new Spring

You'll find them all around
Read the story once again
Of happy Heaven's Hare
The lives of those who do believe

Is eggscelent, I swear.

© 2006 by Ansohn, 2008 by Jacob Anson. All Rights Reserved

Saturday, March 15, 2008

The Poet's Art

If prosaic calls to mind
The factual and the dull,
What can "poetic" mean?
A different way
of speaking?

A different way to dream?

Stories sometimes
Must be told
Through images and light.
The truth we claim
To see so well is neither
Wrong nor right.

We tell of what
We know, or what
We sense or feel.
And often find
The Poet's word
Captures what is real.

We use the rhythm
Of The bard, the poet's lines,
The poet's art.
For hidden in the
Fabled verse,
We find our long, lost heart.

© 2008 by Jacob Anson - All Rights Reserved