I'm reposting this poem, that I posted in November, 2008. It's just a silly poem, but it reminds me of my grandma, who has been in heaven these past two Thanksgivings. After I posted this to my blog in 2008, my mom read it to my grandma. She thought it was a "hoot" (I'm pretty sure that was her description! :) ) and asked my mom to print it for her so she could read it to her Sunday school class. She read it to her Sunday school class and shared a laugh with her friends. Remembering my grandma this morning, and ever so thankful for her!
How not to roast a turkey...
The Turkey Shot out of the Oven
The turkey shot out of the oven
and rocketed into the air,
it knocked every plate off the table
and partly demolished a chair.
It ricocheted into a corner
and burst with deafening boom,
then splattered all over the kitchen,
completely obscuring the room.
It stuck to the walls and the windows,
it totally coated the floor,
there was turkey attached to the ceiling,
where there'd never been turkey before.
It blanketed every appliance,
it smeared every saucer and bowl,
there wasn't a way I could stop it,
that turkey was out of control.
I scraped and I scrubbed with displeasure,
and thought with chagrin as I mopped,
that I'd never again stuff a turkey
with popcorn that hadn't been popped.