The Movin' Out Blues

Sorry for the lack of blogging yesterday, but I was at my old condo, trying really hard to get it emptied out. I did not succeed in that venture, and because people have expressed so much delight in my silly poems, I figured it was high time to get creative again while explaining why not. This is called “The Movin’ Out Blues.”

Got so much stuff left

In my old crib

Like a broken plant cart

And a Chinese bib.

I’m making three piles:

St. Vinny’s, trash, and keep,

But the first two are small,

And the last one is deep.

Can’t get rid of that sweater,

Ma Hat

Made that.

Can’t get rid of this screw,

Who knows

Where it goes?

And this key?

Well, you see,

It might open some door

That I need to

Get into,

Or maybe not anymore.

See this pile of discs?

They all have to stay,

Which one holds my novel?

Right now I can’t say.

This little stuffed frog

Was given to me

By a person who’s gone

To the Great Beyond,

So I’m sure you can see

Why it stays in my pond.

What can I get rid of?

What can I let go?

Moving out would be simple

If I just learned to say No!

Famous Hat