The Second

Wow, now this is like time travel. I came from the end of this blog, back to the beginning to make an observation. Observation: The beauty of being in control of this blog is, when I write something really embarrassing I can go bcak and edit it out later. Okay, now back to where I started.

I think before you read this next poem, you should reflect on the fact that I teach elementary school. Now this one (poem) contains references to partying, alcohol, and deception. Though it appears to be written at the maturity level of a third grader, the content isn't appropriate to that age. Luckily, men, me being one of the aforementioned, stay at that maturity level for roughly ... hmmmm, add that to that, subtract one, multiply by three ... for life. If you care to read more of this ridiculous commentary, I will likely continue after the poem.


Where Do the Ducks Go

Where do the ducks go
When my pond freezes over?
Clear, or covered with snow
I need my closure.

They can’t have gone South
as it’s too far away.
I know they’ll be back
In one of two day.

I’d ask my friend Kim
She’s the sciencey kind
But I really don’t want that,
I’ve something stranger in mind.

I think that just maybe
They’d steal a big car
A stretched limo with heat
And a well stocked bar.

They’d drive into town
Maybe take in a show
Then they hit the best dance club
They could, you never know.

I do know one thing
Oh yes, let me tell ya
They better watch what they drink
and avoid the tequila.

I never have seen them
Cut loose on the stuff
But my grandma once told me
A tale of a bluff

Her dad an inn owner
had needed some “pil-ahs”
He had all the cloth
But none of the “fil-ahs.”

Then in came some ducks
avoiding the cold
Some of them youngsters
Some of them old.

Great granddad, he thought
And came up with a bluff
He’d drink those ducks under
and collect all their fluff.

The duck now they steer
of alcohol clear
They count all their drinks
no matter how cold the year.

But that still leaves me wondering
about the ducks from my pond
Maybe I should ask Kim
“Where have they gone?”

K.G.
Brandon Myuse


So, I don't really have anything else to say. However, if you would like to hear more on my theories of male maturity (remember, I'm an expert, as I "are" one), you can see my posts in my other blog K.G.'s Really Insightful Theories on the Maturity Process of Men (It's kind of oxymoronic). I've written the theories, but haven't created the blog yet. Never fear, though. I am studying quantum mechanics, and intend to make the blog prior to now, after I have finished my studies and have all the time travel "bugs" taken care of. Don't worry, you won't feel a thing as I "whoosh" past you to before now and create that blog before you read this. It will be painless ... I think ...?

The First

New Year

Of last year I have no complaint
Many paths I chose.
Problems were, but did not taint
Each sun still rose.

K.G.
Brandon Myuse

Don't worry, they won't all be one stanza long. Though I do like Haiku and Limericks, so there likely will be a few.

My name is Ken Goree. I just thought I would like to start with a pseudonym. I'll stick with "Brandon" for a while, but I think I might tire of him eventually.

I already feel like he's plagiarizing my work. A bit like a co-worker who turns in your report to the boss, as his own work. Or the funnier version, like one of my students erasing someone else's name from that other person's homework and turning it in as his own. I love it when this happens, because the kids that do this typically have horrid handwriting, and since they want to get a good grade for their stolen work they usually pick one of the most successful students. If you didn't know those students are usually girls with beautiful flowing script who dot their "I"s with little hearts or smiley faces. It makes my detective work pretty easy. Oh, and they rarely do a good job completely erasing the name.

If Brandon really starts to get on my nerves I can simply, quickly and neatly dispatch him. No one would need to know. Someone might say, "Hey, what happened to that guy Brandon, the one that kept writing poems every day?" No one will answer though, because that someone will sitting alone at her/his computer looking at a blog called "Poem-a-Day Place," which has started to be maintained by a guy named Ken. No one would have to know that I "did away with" Brandon ... no mess, no fuss, no muss.

Enjoy the new year. I hope you enjoy my posts as well, and return often. If in anyway I make you laugh, or occasionally help the sun shine on your heart and soul, I will feel well rewarded for my effort.

Notes of encouragement are very appreciated, as are politely worded critiques. I can use all the help I can get.

Be well, in this new year.