The House That Grandpa Built
I promised a bit of Christmas hash. Well, other than a long overdue family reunion, this was the most exciting thing that happened.
HEED THIS WARNING: I am not a poet. Other than song lyrics, I rarely appreciate poetry, but these pictures and the story associated begged for something special. Since they are my pictures and the girl is my kid, I feel responsible to fulfill the call. Literary agent Chip MacGregor loves bad poetry. Last year he celebrated his birthday by inviting people to send him their worst poetry. What you are about to read is not good enough even for such a contest. It is quite possibly the worst poetry ever written by someone not in second grade. (Although, since I admit to its horrendous nature, is it better than bad poetry that believes itself to be good? Nah, it’s just bad. Read on.)
The House That Grandpa Built
by Tanya Dennis, renowned poetic dunce
This is the house that Grandpa built.
Brick facade and shutters of black,
Keep looking; you’ll find nothing it lacks.
From trees and bushes to bright red door,
an open staircase and details galore.
All in the house that Grandpa built.
These are the rooms inside the house.
Three stories high, wallpaper and more,
built-in bookcases, carpet, wood floors.
Two fireplaces make it complete.
Oh, but there’s more that makes it sweet,
All in the house the Grandpa built.
A bar-b-que grill for more than one.
The slate patio looks like fun!
Did you see the toilet? the mirror? the sink?
So many details brought one to the brink.
This is the girl who when she saw
ran fast as she could down the hall
with tears in her eyes
and bladder of insufficient size
all because of the house that Grandpa built.
Poor Ellie, overwhelmed, itchy and red,
soon covered in hives from toe to head.
The gift of her dreams
was too much it seems.
Oh, the house the Grandpa built!
Once the Benadryl kicked in,
she grabbed her dolls and their kin.
Dressed in pjs with flowers
she played there for hours
with the house that Grandpa built.
A Christmas celebration we’ll never forget!
It ranks with the one when we had her leg bones set.
Yes, maybe this holiday is too dangerous for us.
A broken leg, pnuemonia, and hives — what a fuss!
So, what is the moral you should hear?
Always keep your first aid kit near.
Posted on February 5, 2009, in Christmas, Just for Fun, picture, writing. Bookmark the permalink. 6 Comments.
You are so cute!
My grandfather had built me a dollhouse. It now stands (barely), shingles falling, wallpaper peeling, furniture missing, in my parents house. I’d love to see it alive again.
Is that what she got for Christmas this year? I didn’t see it, where do you keep it? How awesome!
It stays at G’ma and G’pa’s place. Rick’s dad also built a whole train table for the boys. Ellie is the only granddaughter, so she’s a little spoiled, not that she minds!
Excellent Poem! And that house is amazing!
Awful! Truly bad! We connoisseurs of bad poetry can recognize greatness. Thanks!
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