Welcome to Dime Rhymes — the Back-alley of Backwoods Poetry!
Growing up years ago on the outskirts of St. Louis, Missouri, during breakfast every morning the kitchen radio was tuned in to the dominant, powerhouse AM radio station in the city at that time — “KMOX – the Voice of St. Louis”, with a mostly news, weather, sports and all-talk format. The morning radio show, “Total Information A.M.”, featured a pair of men who were stellar in their jobs and radio institutions throughout the area, Rex Davis and Bob Hardy, both still remembered and well-known, though now passed.
One of their ongoing features was a fun and highly popular little segment in which they invited listeners to send in their own original short poetry works to be read live on the air by them each morning. They in turn sent the chosen submitter back a Thank You note on KMOX stationery which read – “From listeners like you, we both take heart. Here’s our dime and our thanks, for doing your part.”
An accompanying dime was taped to the note. The daily radio segment was, of course, called — “Dime Rhymes.”
This “Dime Rhymes” page is dedicated then to the memories of Bob Hardy and Rex Davis of KMOX radio fame, and to the little poet within us all.
A page of short, quick, fun little poems by myself and guest contributors. Unless attributed, poems are original and my own. Hope everyone enjoys, and maybe send in a short verse of your own to share!
“For poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry.” — Mary Oliver
“There is not a particle of life which does not bear poetry within it.” — Gustave Flaubert
My Mind in Verse (for Better or Worse!)
Once upon a time,
I wrote a little rhyme.
It didn’t take much time,
And then I sold it for a dime.
And now I’m rhyming things in verse.
A heavenly gift or just a curse?
Rhymes neither take from nor add to my purse,
And suppose they could not get any worse.
So really then reader, what should I do?
Keep putting these rhymes out into view?
And to my imaginative self be true?
Oh, I simply haven’t any old clue!
If I would put these rhymes on my blog,
Would you put me in stocks and then flog?
Because it seems that whatever (for better or worse),
My mind just keeps spinning and working in verse.
Little Tommy O’Flanagan
Oh, to see our poor little boy Tommy O’Flanagan,
Jumping a puddle and falling splat on his can again.
Off running and dripping now on his way home,
All mucky and muddy and covered in loam.
Tommy with all his wits now collected,
Is trying to sneak in undetected.
Our dear sweet but splattered little Tommy O’Flanagan,
Hoping ne’er to be caught in his latest shenanigan.
There comes a time in the life of every little mouse,
When they must decide to stop acting like a louse.
And join in with all the other little mice,
Who’ve discovered it’s much better to be nice.
What Makes A Good Poet?
What makes a good Poet?
Does one’s pen overflow it?
Take great knowledge, then bestow it?
Or deep emotion feel and show it?
True love praise and woo it?
Make good rhymes and not rue it?
Experience life and accrue it?
Struggle mightily and work thru it?
Rhyming all lifelong, not outgrow it?
Take a risky chance and not blow it?
Or with great action, to and fro it?
Discover a creative seed and then sow it?
So wondering here, what makes a good Poet?
And clearly it seems, I really don’t know It.
A pine box is merely lumber,
Trees ripped and then torn asunder.
And though age is merely a number,
The box patiently awaits our slumber.
‘Tis time to shut down and head for bed,
My brain is weary and feet made of lead.
Perchance dreaming of castles and knights of yore,
And of dragons nearby, and oh how they snore!
In finem pro nunc