My volume will rise
I’m not messing around
Timeout is soft
Naptime is weak
It’s got to be something
That doesn’t sound meek
I want them to know
I’m nobody’s stooge
My wrath should be epic,
Unforgettable, huge
The Earth will tremble
The mountains will rock
Is a year without food too much?
Just to pick up a sock
CLEAN UP YOUR ROOM
Clean up your room
Clean up your room
Clean up your room
Clean up your room
Clean up your room
Clean up your room
Clean up your room
Clean up your room
How many times do I have to say it?
THE SPACE ON YOUR HEAD
Something’s not right
Something’s amiss
On your face
I sense an emptiness
Something’s not right
As I contemplate
Your strange smile
Makes me hesitate
Something’s not right
Was it something I said?
Then I notice
The space on your head
Something’s not right
Now I’m fully aware
Beaming pride obvious
You cut your own hair!
COOKIES ’N’ CRIME
Guilty
You condemn
Guilty
By pointed finger
Our cookie culprit caught this time
Don’t let the mystery linger
Your brother can’t refute the crime
Trust your pointed finger
Guilty
Say your chocolate lips
Guilty
By pointed finger
Earnest with obvious lie
Crumbs reveal the ringer
But you’re confident there’s no alibi—
For a pointed finger
CHAPTER 4:
PLAYTIME & OTHER MESS-MAKING ADVENTURES
When toys cover the ground like snow and food coats every other surface, it’s time for the kids to start a new project! Usually with gallons of glue and a bazillion broken crayons. This is a little poetic homage to all the games and activities that make more work for Dad.
Even if you’ve seen it all—
you’ll never see it coming.
Stark Raving Dad (Tenet)
THE MASTERPIECE
All that cutting
And meticulous care
Glue
Just the right shapes
In just the right places
Glue
The utmost concentration
The required contemplation
Glue
You step away
Your masterwork through
And your priceless art
Perfectly stuck
To the kitchen table
THE MEASURE OF A TAPE MEASURE
You created your own universe
Inch by inch
A simple tool—
Pulled to epic lengths
Twisted to brave frontiers
The walls of a fort
The boundaries of a space station
The edges of imagination
And finally—
The distance of irritation
Stretched to max length
Fifty feet of calculated fun
Woven around fences,
Bushes,
Bicycles,
Chairs,
Railings,
Trees,
Tables,
Spickets,
Posts,
Flower pots,
Tomato plants,
Wheel barrows,
And barbecue grill handles
The only thing it can’t measure—
Is Dad’s patience
It extends far beyond that
THE LIFE OF A SQUIRT GUN
Bright colors, now faded
Resting quietly on the lawn
How soon the joys of summer
Have come and gone
Full of life and laughs
Just days before
Now, abandoned weapons
That don’t squirt anymore
Cracked, empty plastic
Leaking the fun
Can’t take the pressure
Of boys on the run
Dropped without sadness
When you’re on the go
Waiting for Dad to move them—
So he can mow
KIDS SHOULD NEVER HAVE SHARPIES
Kids should never have Sharpies
Even if you appreciate wall art
Kids should never have Sharpies
Even if you like stick figures
On your coffee table
Kids should never have Sharpies
Even if you’re cool
With neck tattoos
Kids should never have Sharpies
Even if you like to wash them
With your clothes
Seriously, permanent is forever
And Dad isn’t laughing at that mustache anymore
DIRECTIONS FOR KICKING A BALL
There’s only one way to kick a ball
And that’s really, really hard
If you want to smash it far
Kick it really, really hard
If you want to blast it high
Kick it really, really hard
If you kick a ball at all
Kick it really, really hard
But you probably should have listened
When Dad told you to kick it in the yard
Because that lamp is really, really broken
BOYS & STICKS
There’s nothing better
Than a stick
A few feet long
But not too thick
Something to poke
Something to swing
A powerful weapon
To rule as a king
No fancy game
You can buy at the store
No flashy gadget
That costs a lot more
If you were smart, Dad
And a little more swift
You’d wrap this up
As a birthday gift
QUALITY TIME
Is six hours
Putting together a Lego space station
Really fine?
Can we still call it
Quality time?
I haven’t seen anyone in forever
Digging through tiny pieces
Alone
Glaring at bits of plastic
Lost
A pile of torture
Daring me to realize
We’re only halfway done
And suddenly
Here you are
Telling me—Mom’s a lot more fun
THE PICK
Finger in nose
I saw you pick it
Now you’re wondering
Where to stick it
Hand… slowly… drifting
Toward the couch
But then—
You flick it
BRUISES & BUMPS
I’ve seen bruises
And I’ve seen bumps
I’ve seen scratches
And I’ve seen lumps
I’ve seen stitches
And I’ve seen spills
I’ve seen doctors
And I’ve seen bills
But what is brotherly love—
If it doesn’t come with a shove?
THE HARDEST THING IN THE WORLD
If you’ve ever stepped
On a small, square block
In the dark at two o’clock
It’s more than a shock
It’s harder than rock
Your jaw will lock
To stifle the scream, and whimper ins
tead
Why did I get out of bed?
Emblazoned brightly with an “A”
Nestled near an apple
Impassionedly I have to say
It really hurts like crapple
CHAPTER 5:
SANITY & OTHER THINGS GOING DOWN THE TOILET
These poems delve into the things that drive Dad insane! He’d write more, but he needs to turn off every light in the house, pick up dirty socks in the front yard, then get the plunger… again.
Be the bigger person.
Using your size and weight
is a huge advantage.
Stark Raving Dad (Truism)
ODE TO THE PLUNGER MAN
Dear Dad,
You’re always there
When something’s stuck
Be it Q-tips
Or a Dixie cup
Our hero fighting crayons in muck
More enemies rising as it fills up
Army men, a rubber gator,
Bouncy balls, the Caped Crusader
The only constant
In this stopped-up crater?
Half a roll of toilet paper
With a gurgle of greatness
Then a mighty lunge
Triumphant!
You make your final plunge
ROAD-TRAPPED
Help
We’re trapped in a car
An hour travelled
And we’ve gone too far
A quiet ride
Lost in the past
Praying for an end
Now driving too fast
Tortured by tantrums
Splattered by spills
Seatbelt prisoners
Losing our wills
Can we survive
This titanic task?
Our road-trip vacation…
At long last
ALWAYS DRY YOUR ROCKS
Always dry your rocks
Just listen for the knocks
Washing, spinning, every one
When Mom shouts
You’ll know they’re done
In the dryer, warm and waiting
Silent after clanging, banging
And once she frantically stops it—
You can put them back in your pocket
LAMENT OF THE KNOTTED SHOELACES
Your intricate knot
A sinister plot
To test a father’s skill
Twists upon turns
Tangled and mangled
Devised to break my will
Contorted fingers, bent to the fight
Brow furrowed, pulling with might
Feeling the heat
The clock is ticking
Sweating through shirt
Your laces constricting
But I’m the one who let you choose
Stating proudly, you can tie your shoes
Now we’re late
We need to go
My lesson learned—
Stick with Velcro
PRESSING DAD’S BUTTONS
Crackers become crumbs
Clickety-clack
Crumbs become crushed
Clackety-click
Crushed becomes crud
Tippity-tap
Crud becomes crammed
Tappity-tip
Crushed cracker crumb crud
Mixed with drool, made with ease
Crammed into all my computer keys
That’s how you press Dad’s buttons
THE CALM BEFORE THE SMELL
Behind the wheel
I savor the calm
One perfect moment
When nothing is wrong
But look again
That grimace is telling
Use your senses
That’s horror you’re smelling
Trouble onboard
And there’s no escape
Trapped in a car
Reaching panic state
Voices rising
Mom even nagged
How could you forget—
The diaper bag?!
I HEAR EVERYTHING YOU SAY
I hear everything you say
If I want to
Otherwise you’re talking to yourself
Or yelling for no reason
Or just turning red
By the way
I heard you whispering to Mom
Through four walls
Fifty feet away
When I was supposed to be sleeping in bed
SCAMPERING SOCKS
Dirty socks
Lounge on the floor
Dirty socks
Hide behind doors
Dirty socks
Loaf on the stairs
Dirty socks
Hang off chairs
But dirty socks scamper
When you look in the hamper—
Because you never find dirty socks there
TURBULENCE IN 13B
The thrill of flying
Thump!
The love of airplanes
Thump! Thump!
The joy of travel
Thump!
The wonder of tray tables
Thump! Thump!
The marvel of tight spaces
Thump!
The grimace from Seat 13B
Thump! Thump!
Let’s call it turbulence
Thump!
GETTING OUT THE DOOR
The biggest problem
With going to the store
Is actually getting out the door
Do we really need snacks
And the mighty Thor?
Do we need that rubber snake
And those weapons of war?
Then, we’re loading, strapping,
Prepping for snags
Packing tissues, wipes,
And the diaper bag
Finally, we make our arrival
An epic journey of survival
But there’s one thing we missed—
The list
CHAPTER 6:
FOOD & OTHER THINGS KIDS DON’T EAT
Like a teething biscuit mashed into your computer keyboard, food rarely ends up where it should. Parents constantly battle spills, sticky fingers, and picky eaters. But not eating French fries?! C’mon!
Some things are just easier… when you ignore them.
Stark Raving Dad (Aphorism)
SERVED BETWEEN YOUR TOES
There’s just something
About noodles on the floor
Squishing between your toes
As you walk through the door
A rubbery-wet texture
Grimy, slick, and turning gray
My compliments to the chef—
They feel al dente
BETTER BUTTER
Open the lid and behold the treasure
A golden spread of past meals’ pleasure
Flashes of crimson
Streaks of brown
Bits of flavor, all around
Like muffin crumbs, jelly
And grated cheddar
All making our butter
So much better
WHERE PEANUT BUTTER GOES
Peanut butter
Goes great on sandwiches
Cabinets, counters
And refrigerator doors
Peanut butter
Goes great on toast
Chairs, doorknobs
And smeared on floors
Peanut butter
Goes great on crackers
Coffee makers, couches
And carpeting
Honestly—
Peanut butter goes great
On everything
And so does jelly
MANNERS BY THE MOUTHFUL
It’s no big deal
Talking with your mouth full
It’s just a meal
Malfing wiff yorsh mouff flll
It’s just Dad always getting mad
Talshing weff yrrff mouff flll
I
t’s just food in the way
When you’ve got things to say
Talshnng wrsh yurr mouff ffllll
It’s just a small amount
Sometimes slipping out
Dalshnng wrrf yrrr mrff fffll
At least the dog doesn’t mind
Talking with your mouth full
FEEDING TIME
Staring at my plate again
Wishing I could eat
Wiping up milk that’s spilled—
And dripping in my seat
Followed by refills
Spooning out orders
Washing kids’ faces
And serving as porter
Now there’s no time
So I’m cramming food down
I’m told to stop dawdling—
And ditch the frown
WASTE NOT, WANT NO MORE
I am going to drink this milk
Because we’re at a restaurant
And I paid five bucks
I am going to drink this milk
Because I’m tired of waste
And I’m ending the squander
I am going to drink this milk
And the half-eaten surprise
Hidden at the bottom
But next time—
I’m not going to drink your
Leftover milk
EVIL, EVIL BROCCOLI
You just sit and glare at me
Between us both
Evil, evil broccoli
Warm, healthy veggies to eat
Silent, waiting there
Evil, evil broccoli
A line drawn with a timeless foe
Staring back
Evil, evil broccoli
Once leafy, green, and oh-so-good
But an hour later, you taste like wood
Evil, evil broccoli
Just scrape it in the sink
Don’t tell Mom
Evil, evil broccoli
THE ICING ON THE FACE
Blue hands
Blue lips
Blue face
Blue icing all over the place
What could be better than frosting?
Certainly not cake
Stark Raving Dad Page 2
