Until I’m finished with Part Deux of "My Series of Unfortunate Events", can we talk turkey? Cause if we do, you might just walk away with a FREE Butterball turkey!
This year we’ll be playing host to my husband’s family for Thanksgiving, and I was most grateful when the Butterball people decided to help me by footing the bill for the main dish; I can only hope mine turns out as pretty as theirs.
If you’re hosting a Thanksgiving meal, the Butterball site is FULL of helpful information–recipes, how-tos, even a calculator to determine what size bird you need based on the number of adults, children and THEIR APPETITES! Whizbang, I tell ya…whiz!bang!
Guess what? TWO readers have a chance to win a $15 certificate for a Butterball turkey, too. All you have to do is write a poem related to Thanksgiving–a couplet, haiku, limerick, English Sonnet–I don’t care about form, I’m looking to be entertained. I’ll pick my top five favorites (presuming at least five people enter) and then let readers vote. You may enter as often as you’d like (if you’re crazy like me and can’t stop at one!), but every poem needs to be commented separately.
Comments will close Tuesday @ 11:59 p.m. and I’ll post the five contenders by Wednesday at noon EST.
Here’s the proverbial “ooh ooh! pick me!” entry for the day. {waves hand wildy to say “hi”}
Oh turkey, come here.
Smoked, deep fried, oven roasted.
I do salivate.
I’m gonna delurk-y
in hopes of winning a turkey.
Can I pay with words
for one of Butterball’s birds?
Yeah, it’s bad. So bad it’s good right? 😉
Why do your contests
have to be
always tied
to poetry?
I think and try
and try and think,
but in the end
my efforts stink.
Never-the-less,
here I am.
Hoping to serve more than
Holiday Ham.
See what I mean?
This is so lame.
But thanks for hosting
this little game.
PS. I know that your contests are NOT always tied to poetry, just so you know. 😉
So you say you want a poem about turkey
But it’s just not my thing…I like jerkey
But for this one grand ole day,
I think I will play,
Since I have 7 monstrous mouths to feed…yes, it’s worky. 🙂
(Good think I just reviewed limericks with my own kids…no joke. 🙂
Too fun!
Here’s an attempt…(sad to say it’s a true account)
Dressing, pies, and potatoes I can do.
I’ve made homemade cranberry sauce, too.
But I really must confess.
At cooking turkeys, I’m not best.
Though I’ve dried out and ruined quite a few.
my feathered friend
i see you
over there, behind the fence.
so trusting, so gobbly.
When you hear the car
you come arunnin’
the boy hops out to pet you.
so sweet, so plump.
our friends gather
bellies expanding
“mommy, have you seen Tom Turkey?”
so trusting, so simple.
“no, honey, I haven’t. Use your napkin, you’ve got some gravy on your chin.”
Turkey is in the oven,
All made with lots of lovin’
Whipping mashed potatoes and fluffing the stuffing
Cooling the pies and watching the hungry eyes
Saying our blessing and filling the plates
Setting the table for a night of thanks
That’s all I could come up with my lil’ (monster) angel (Gabriel 21 months old) running around!
phillipsonlygirl at gmail dot com
Family makes turkey by the book
We usually take a side or pie
But, if we have to cook
We like our turkeys fried.
A little free verse Ode to Thanksgiving (and little boys):
this thanksgiving my son
is friends with the wild
turkeys that roam our property.
the supermarket. full of frozen turkey,
the boy does
the math.
mom are those the same
turkeys at home?
no, they are different.
but still
turkeys?
yes.
he will eat ham instead
this year
(don’t tell him about wilbur)
My Love, My Love, My Butterball
Oh succulent, juicy Butterball
into deep love I always fall
your crispy skin, your juicy wings
I dive within, my true heart sings
Oh Butterball, sweet holiday
A flawless meal for turkey day:
I think mine eyes will never see
white meat as lovely as you offer me.
What a cute idea so why not join in on the fun…?
http://theopenwindow1.blogspot.com/ – complete with pictures!
Wynot
Butterball Gerty and Turkey legs Clarence-
Honeymooned on a 1954 Honda.
Went to a farm pond for a Thanksgiving day picnic.
Lots of folks came by, roasting wild turkeys on a spit
They ate hors’ d’ oeuvres’
of pickled pigs feet and head cheese,
Drank champale (or old moon shine gingerale).
After feasting- on turkey gizzards and pickled eggs
Butterball Gerty and Turkey legs Clarence went skinny dipping.
Gerty got cold and the bike breaks down.
So, Turkey legs Clarence gives Butterball Gerty
a piggy back ride back to
Wynot ?
Miss Robin wants us to write about a turkey
So her readers will comment and not just lurkey.
With free gifts coming our way from Butterball
This contest might just turn out to be a free-for-all.
Poor bird known as Meleagris Gallopavo
Will soon be in the crosshairs of my crossbow.
Plucked and stuffed his body soon will be
Baked in my oven for my family and me.
Now turkeys are known to be dumber than dirt
With that wattle and snood, he looks quite pervert.
But try as I might to shoot with my arrow
He looks quite small about the size of a sparrow.
Those eyes how sad and his feathers did tremble.
This funky bird that’s our Thanksgiving symbol,
Had captured my heart in a compassionate way
No way could I shoot him on this Thanksgiving day.
So the dressing won’t bake inside of a bird
There’s other meat to savor so lately I’ve heard.
Where’s the fat pig we can have for our ham?
Forget it. I can’t shoot him. Please open the SPAM !
Composed by Swampy instead of doing her chores this 11th day of November, 2008 !
Robin, can I use one I wrote for a book? Or is that cheating? I’ll see what else I can come up with, too.
Finally: A Thanksgiving Grace
I’m thankful
for my puppy
and his soft and watching eyes
I’m thankful
for my sister
even though she always cries
I’m thankful
for my baseball
and the sneakers on my feet
I’m thankful
grace is over
so I finally get to eat!
turkey, stuffing, pie,
marshmallow yams, cranberries.
please pass the rolaids.
OK, I do love a challenge, and I just wrote a column about acrostics. So here’s my new acrostic Thanksgiving poem:
November Treasures
Trees rustling, the autumn sky
Halo of cloud on moon or sun
Afternoon game, a soft lullaby
Naps on the sofa, chores not begun
Kids on the sidewalk, spontaneous songs
Family stories, dessert buffets
Uttered forgiveness, righted wrongs
Love-filled moments, love-filled days
Hmmm…I just discovered an acrostic doesn’t work so well when it’s centered :>/
There once was a bird from Nantucket
Whose thighs were the size of a bucket
On its backside was scrawled
The name BUTTERBALL
And we fear since it’s gone that Pawtucket.
There once was a Turkey named Fred
who feared that he soon would be dead.
So he grabbed a big brush
some ink and with rush
painted his feathers all red.
“Turkeys are brown,” Fred did thought
“no one will see through this plot”
but down came the rain
and with it Fred’s gain
all his hard work was for naught.
In the end Fred died on his chest
along with all of the rest.
But at least Fred did know
as his soul left to go
that he was a Butterball, they’re best.
Here’s a poem 4 ya:
All year long I don’t hear from you,
Cousin Joe, Aunt Greta, And Great Uncle Lou.
Come Thanksgiving, you come to my house,
Eat all of my food,
And I have yet to meet your spouse!
Next time you visit,
Be exquisite,
And bring a dish to share,
Or I’ll put this wishbone you-know-where!
HaHa! That was F-U-N!!!!
Have a good one!