Trump-et Sounds

Trump is playing folks

Like a hoedown fiddle player –

“Look at me, not at them,

Now dance around the square!”

His distracting repartee

Divides the GOP,

And like lemmings in a flock,

Many follow his decrees.

With insults flying fast

And issues overlooked,

Trump simply takes advantage

Of folks who can be hooked.

So, ignore the “Trump”et sounds

And focus on the race,

Let Donald be the one

With egg upon his face.

By Kathy Mansfield, 2015

Milestones

When folks my age had kids

Was Milestone Number One,

Yet doctors said for us

There simply would be none.

Instead we got a dog,

Her name was Bessie Mae,

She helped us both get through

Those baby-crazy days.

When kids of all our friends

Grew up and went to school,

In my mind I witnessed

Milestone Number Two.

I focused on our dog

And smiled at wags and barks,

Sent graduation gifts,

Watched other’s kids embark.

That’s Milestone Number Three,

At a decade and a half,

But for us it was the end

Of our dog-focused path.

As I viewed Facebook pics

Of teens dressed for prom,

I said goodbye to Bessie,

The one who made me “Mom.”

Those milestones with my Bessie,

Though they've come now to an end,

Might set the stage for more

So my broken heart can mend.

What will be those milestones?

Only God can ever know,

But I trust in God with faith

That through them I will grow.

Floppy Ears

(Written several years ago, but posted today in honor of Bessie Mae, 17 years old; 1998-2015)

A floppy-eared basset hound

Turned my life upside down.

Her mournful glance and howling bay

Thrills my heart every day.

Big fat paws and stubbly legs,

A cold wet nose and eyes that beg,

Ears that drag across the floor –

I never loved a creature more!

At night she snuggles in my bed

And makes a pillow for my head,

But when the night turns into dawn

She’s up and stretching with a yawn.

Her wagging tail says, “Let’s go!

Got squirrels to chase . . .you’re moving slow!”

Then off she waddles, nose to ground,

Every bit the hunter hound.

Now you might wonder why on earth

I’d let a dog have so much worth.

But love for my dear basset hound

Seems to have no earthly bound.

I can’t have children of my own,

The doctors say, “Cause: unknown.”

But that floppy-eared, cold-nosed pup

Fills that heart void right on up.

One day she’ll cross that Rainbow Bridge

Where bassets go beyond the ridge,

But as for now my love abounds

For this floppy-eared basset hound.

Happy Birthday (48)!

With birthday number forty-eight

I’m here to set the record straight:

The greatest gift that can be found

Is family and friends all round.

I’ll take the gifts; I’ll take the cake;

I’ll take a trip down to the lake,

But what I will remember best

Is time to love and time to rest.

I slept in late and ate my fill,

I had some time to just sit still.

I heard the happy birthday song

And stayed with Mom all day long.

I’ll walk the dog and talk to Rick,

The dinner menu is my pick,

And when I go to sleep tonight
I will have spent my day just right.