+ bleu clair rhapsody et la symphonie de (relocated) [crickets] + » Poems by ECB

Christmas Presents

rhapsody — Mon, 22 Dec 2008 02:23:50 +0000

THE PRIVATE LIFE OF SANTA CLAUS

BY

ERNESTINE COBERN BEYER

The Revolt of the Little Tin Soldiers

Santa, one year, was upset, so I hear,
And his nerves were most terribly jolted,
When one wintry morning, without any warning,
The little tin soldiers revolted.

The Captain, black-booted, clicked heels and saluted.
“I speak for my regiment, Santa!
We’re refusing to go through the sleet and the snow
To Kalamazoo or Atlanta!

“My men and myself shall remain on the shelf.
I know this is strictly forbidden,
But we don’t like our suits or our helmets or boots –
So, on Christmas, we plan to stay hidden!”

Cried Santa Claus: “STOP! Who’s running this shop?
I never heard sillier chatter!”
He sharpened his scrutiny. “This, sir, is mutiny!
What in tarnation’s the matter?”

The captain of tin raised his little tin chin.
“Our uniforms couldn’t be duller!
We’re ashamed to be seen in this poisonous green!
We think we’re a horrible color!”

Santa replied with a grin hard to hide,
“Your color’s your only complaint, sir?”
He loosened his buckle to let out a chuckle.
“Well, that can be altered with paint, sir!”

Smiling a lot, Santa got out a pot
And worked with his paints for a minute.
Having mixed up a shade guaranteed not to fade,
He dunked the whole regiment in it.

And so, Christmas morn, no longer forlorn,
The soldiers looked ever so jolly,
Each with his puny form decked in a uniform
Brighter and redder than holly!

*******************************************

Tommy’s Letter to Santa

Santa Claus, dressed in the loudest of vests,
Was reading his mail full of Christmas requests,
When he found Tommy’s note (rather smudgy to see)
Which said, SANTA, PLEASE SEND A BONNET TO ME!
“A bonnet?” thought Santa. The rest of the note
Said, SANTA, PLEASE BRING ME A SILK PETTICOAT!
AND PLEASE BRING A DRESS OF A COLOR NOT GLOOMY–
A BABY IS COMING, SO PLEASE MAKE IT ROOMY.
Santa glanced at his wife and remarked with a wink,
“This Tommy deserves something special, I think!
He asks for some presents,” he smilingly said,
But not for himself–for his mother, instead!”
Santa’s wife reached for a jar on the table,
A jar which had “MAGIC” inscribed on its label.
She then found a box, sprinkled magic inside it,
And helped by old Santa, she carefully tied it.

When Christmas day dawned, very sparkling and pleasant,
Tommy discovered his gaily-wrapped present.

He opened it up and stared for a minute,
The box was quite empty! Not one thing was in it!
Then he noticed a card–and surprised to his socks,
He read, “Merry Christmas, my lad! Shake the box!”
Dazed and bewildered, he put on the lid,
And rattled the box just the way he was bid.

Well, I give you my word that he’d no sooner done it
Than out fell a stylish and flattering bonnet!
He shook it again, then he stared, goggle-eyed,
For out fell a dress that was seven yards wide.
Next came some rompers and booties so small,
They seemed to be made for a real baby doll!
But that wasn’t all! Came a jumping-jack toy
And a book and a sweater just right for a boy!

Far off, Santa Claus and his missus were sitting,
He with his corncob and she with her knitting.
Their magical radio brought them the joys
Of the lad still delightedly finding his toys.
“That’s Tommy,” said Santa Claus, beaming with pride,
“He’s shaking our box with the magic inside!”

********************************************

Funny Face

Santa, it seems, had been working all day,
Preparing the toys he would take in the sleigh.
Weary, he glanced at the dolls on the shelf,
All of whose faces he’d painted himself.

Pleased with his work, he consulted the clock
And began to unbutton his paint-spattered smock;
But he paused as he noticed one doll he’d forgotten.
Her face was a blank little blob of white cotton.
He chuckled: “‘Twould be the unkindest of tricks
To leave you in such an unfortunate fix!”
Her cheeks were so pale that he gave her a blush,
Then painting her face with his talented brush,
He remarked: “You’re the prettiest doll of the year.
I must fetch Mrs. Santa to see you, my dear!”

As Santa departed, a gremlin came in.
And moved toward the doll with a mischievous grin,
Seizing a brush, he proceeded with haste
To give her a look that was more to his taste.

Dear Mrs. Santa, good-natured and chubby,
Then entered the room on the heels of her hubby.
Seeing the doll, Santa gasped with a blink:
“I never painted that comical wink!”
By jingles! A gremlin has been here, I think!”

Mrs. Santa consoled him. “Her smile is so sweet,
And her wink’s so delightful, she’s really a treat.
She’ll make people chuckle, she’ll fill them with glee,
And laughter’s good medicine, don’t you agree?
She’s so funny, my dear, I know just what to do–
Why not give her to kids who have colds or the flu!”
On Christmas, he did this, I’m happy to tell . . .
And the little sick children all laughed themselves well!

Labels: Thank you to Ernestine’s daughter Barbara Beyer Malley for permission to post

It’s that time of the year again! :D

rhapsody — Sun, 23 Nov 2008 10:54:34 +0000

From Read Me a Rhyme, Please!

(linked to the right:)

Holiday Dinner

By Ernestine Cobern Beyer

Sing ho for the turkey of pleasant renown,

Sing ho for the stuffing, deliciously brown,
Sing ho for the gravy, potatoes, and greens,

And ho for the cranberries, biscuits, and beans!

Sing ho for the celery, salad, and pickles,

And ho for the cider that tingles and tickles!

Sing ho for the walnuts and jellied preserves,

And ho for the pudding that grandmother serves;

Sing ho for the cookies fresh out of the range,

And ho – I mean WHOA! Don’t you feel a bit strange?

Labels: Poetry by Ernestine Cobern Beyer

The Magical Hat

rhapsody — Fri, 31 Oct 2008 18:45:18 +0000

By Ernestine Cobern Beyer

Patrick was hunting, one Halloween day,
Through a trunkful of treasures long hidden away,
When much to the pleasure and profit of Pat,
He came on a wonderful magical hat.

Well, quite as if this were his usual habit,
He put in his hand, and he drew out a rabbit.
Pleased, but not thrilled into shivers and chills,
Pat muttered: “That trick is as old as the hills!”

Then thoughtfully scratching his smart little head,
“I think I will pull out some people!” he said.
And he did! From that hat so imposing and tall,
He pulled out a lady in bonnet and shawl.
A dignified man and his neighbor came next,
And one or two more whose expressions were vexed.
“I,” said the lady, “was having a nap!”
“And I,” said a man, “was at dinner, young chap!”

“I,” sniffed the neighbor, “was feeding my cats!”
“We hate,” they all cried, “to be pulled out of hats!”

With this, looking ever so grumpy and glum,
They jumped in the hat out of which they had come,
And–pffftt!–they all vanished! “Now, that,” approved

Patrick,
“Is what I would call a remarkable hat trick!”

The Magical Broom

rhapsody — Fri, 31 Oct 2008 18:42:01 +0000

By Ernestine Cobern Beyer

It was Halloween night when I noticed my broom
With which I had lately been sweeping my room.
Seeing it move, I remarked with surprise:
“I cannot and will not believe my own eyes!
A broom doesn’t move from its place by the shelf!
A broom is a broom!” I declared to myself.

Yet it struck me as strange when I noticed, my dears,
That the broomstick was growing a couple of ears;
And I have to admit that I turned rather pale
When all of a sudden it sprouted a tail.
Said I to myself: “I am dreaming, of course!
A broom doesn’t turn itself into a horse!”

Refusing to look at the broom any more,
I hurried away, and I opened the door.
But there I was stopped by a queer little sound.
I paused with a shiver, and glancing around,
I lectured myself in my sensible way:
“You’re hearing things, silly! A broom doesn’t neigh!”

Little I knew! ‘Twas uncanny, of course,
But the broom had become a complete little horse!
He pawed at the carpet and whinnied at me:
“Hop up!” he invited, as plain as could be.

So I climbed on his back as he wanted me to,
Then out of the window he happily flew!
Feeling as if I had saddled a breeze,
I clung to his mane as he hurdled the trees.
Gracefully rising, he headed for Mars,
And the street that he galloped was cobbled with stars!
Now suddenly witches appeared in the night
And followed behind like the tail of a kite.
Uttering horrible cackles and croaks,
They swooped all around in their fluttering cloaks.
Heavens to Betsy! A spooky parade—
But somehow or other, I wasn’t afraid!

As my broom and I traveled that shimmering land,
The Man in the Moon waved a glimmering hand
And cheerfully hailed me, inviting me, please,
To stop for a bite of delicious green cheese;
But before I could answer a yes or a no,
We were sliding the sky to the valley below.

I was back in my own little cottage again.
I looked at my broom very sternly, and then
Said I: “I have never been out of this room!
It couldn’t have happened! A broom is a broom!
And untangling a cloud from its bristles—-once more,
I stood it aslant in its place by the door.

A *Quote and a Poem

rhapsody — Sat, 23 Aug 2008 14:23:36 +0000

“Any scene…can be more clearly and freshly
seen when it is seen upside down.”
G.K. Chesterton

Which brings to mind…

The Remedy

By Ernestine Cobern Beyer

A certain king of great renown
Saw everybody upside down.
It much disturbed him day and night,
So topsy-turvy was his sight.

To try to cure the good king’s eyes
There came a doctor old and wise
Who dosed the king with horrid brews,
And poured red pepper in his shoes.

These things the patient king endured,
But when the doctor cried, “You’re cured!”
His Highness blinked and glumly said:
“Sir! Must you stand upon your head?”

Came other clever doctors, then,
Distinguished and important men.
“The Cold Cure is the very thing!”
Said they, “Let’s try it on the king!”

They promptly wrapped him in a sheet
With lumps of ice at head and feet.
Although it was a famous one,
This cure was very little fun.

“You’re healed!” they cried. “Without a doubt,
Your sickness has been frozen out!”
But they were wrong- for all that froze
Was just the royal nose and toes.

Well, being men of great resource,
They tried the Hot Cure next, of course.
But though they baked him toe to brow,
His sole response to this was “OW!”

Then came a wizard, tall of hat,
Who cured the king as quick as that!
He simply turned him upside down
And stood His Highness on his crown.

“Hooray!” The king’s relief was vast.
“You all look right side up, at last!”

* Quote from the St. Austin Review,
May/June 2008.

Labels:

From Poetry with a Purpose

rhapsody — Fri, 20 Jun 2008 23:11:14 +0000

*****Meranda*****

by Ernestine Cobern Beyer

Long ago, and far below the

sea’s gigantic gale,
Meranda lived~ a mermaid with
a most becoming tail.
Her face was sweet and merry, and
her voice, enchanting, very,
As it mingled, light and airy, with
the ocean’s somber scale.

King Neptune heard and was so stirred,
he called his wizards three.
“I want to keep Meranda’s song! It
must not die!” said he.
“Come, wizard and magician! Show
your skill and your ambition.
And grant the wish I’m wishin’! Catch
this lovely song for me!”

The wisest of the wizards did not have
to ponder long.
Said he with verve, “A shell will serve
to hold Meranda’s song!”
His brothers cried, “Be quiet! You’re a
fool! You can’t deny it!”
But the king replied, “Let’s try it! This
will prove him right or wrong!”

Meranda, then, began again her
captivating art.
She held a shell and sang to it while
Neptune stood apart.
She charmed the king completely with
the tune she trilled so sweetly–
And the shell retained it neatly in its
iridescent heart.

Go find a shell and listen well and
tell me what you hear.
Though wave and wind have dimmed and
thinned that singing, once so clear.
Through walls of pink and yellow you
will hear the ocean’s cello…
And a murmur, soft and mellow, will
whisper in your ear.

*Meranda is from Poetry with a Purpose
compiled by Barbara Beyer Malley.
& a special thanks to Michelle the Mermaid
from Justitia, for playing the part of Meranda.

Labels: Reposted

Springtime poems

rhapsody — Thu, 27 Mar 2008 10:48:41 +0000

from Ernestine Cobern Beyer-
with many thanks to her daughter,
Barbara Beyer Malley.

Easter Parade

Doff, my soul, your sober dress,
Heart, wear your fairest frills.
He must have loved all loveliness
Who dressed the daffodils!

In My Garden

Pausing on my lawn, I glimpse a bird,
And in its singing, Lord, I hear Thy Word.
Nearby, I see a lilac bush in bloom,
And feel thy presence in its faint perfume.
And when I see thy smile, my spirit thrills –
Though what I look upon is daffodils.

Spring

As in a small reflecting-glass
The sun’s rays fiercely focus,
So Spring is captured in the grass
By one important crocus.

More springtime poetry

rhapsody — Thu, 27 Mar 2008 10:40:05 +0000

Lesson in Spring

by Ernestine Cobern Beyer

Who places credence in the tomb
And bows too long in grief,
Must argue with the clover-bloom
And contradict the leaf.

The Tree of Heaven

rhapsody — Thu, 20 Mar 2008 10:35:33 +0000

(an Easter Ballad)

By Ernestine Cobern Beyer

The trees flung up their branches
And in the dark they cried:
“On one of us long, long ago,
The Lord was crucified!”

A weeping sapling murmured:
“Alas, how can I grow?
On one of us the Savior died.
I would I did not know!”

And all night long a sighing
Became a brimming flood;
Petals fell like teardrops,
And sap ran forth like blood.

Until at dawn of morning
From whirling clouds of flame,
A Voice consoled the forest
And comforted its shame.

“Blame not, O trees, your brother,
For this I say to you:
The tree that was to be the cross
Knew not for what it grew.

“It loved the sun, the starlight;
It sheltered nesting birds.
Its boughs were stirred with music,
It sang with leaves for words.

“In innocence and beauty
It grew from day to day,
And in its peaceful shadow
I often knelt to pray.

“Then came that grievous morning–
The day men did the Wrong.
They stripped me of my garments,
The tree, of leaf and song.

“I died. I rose to heaven
Where cherubim shone bright
And stood in dazzled wonder
Before the Glory Light.

“And while the angels gathered
To welcome me and sing,
I bade the tree to Paradise
And God’s eternal spring.

Beneath its boughs the cherubs
New-come to Heaven play
Until their eyes, grown stronger,
Can bear the Glory Ray.

“So harken, tossing branches!
Let every tree adore
The Cross that is the symbol
Of love forevermore.”

Then cried the little sapling:
“Sing out that all is well.
Ye twinkle-footed rivers,
Run ’round the earth and tell.

“Rejoice, rejoice, my brothers!
Come praise with windy lute
The Tree that bore the Savior.
(O blest and piteous fruit!)
Praise, praise the Tree of Heaven
Nor let one leaf be mute!”

The Leprechaun

rhapsody — Fri, 07 Mar 2008 12:58:17 +0000

*By Ernestine Cobern Beyer

I met a little leprechaun.
He gasped and quavered: “Ooo!
I’m seeing things! Be off! Be gone!
There’s no such thing as you!

“You can’t be real, you ugly thing,
So I’m not scared,” he said,
“Though you have neither tail nor wing,
Nor horns upon your head!”

I looked at him, then ran, my dear,
As would, I think, have you,
‘Cause people sometimes disappear
When leprechauns say: “Boo!”

***************************

*From the wonderful book of
poetry for children,
Read Me a Rhyme, Please!

& with many, many thanks to
Ernestine’s daughter, Barbara
Beyer Malley, for permission to
post:) *K*s