July 6th – We’ve been at camp for five days and we miss home. We miss Mom and Dad and Little Sis. We miss our friends. More importantly, we miss our Internet connection. Write a ten line poem belying what what you hate about camp. The first nine are your complaints; the tenth line is the “Oh, never mind, this place isn’t so bad.” revelation.
STAYING ON THE TRAIL
July 4 – NIGHT LIGHTS OVER THE LAKE
July 3 – IN THE SUMMERTIME (MUSIC)
POETIC BLOOMINGS 
Responses
GET ME OUT OF HERE!
I hate the chilly nights,
I hate that there’s no lights.
I hate the bugs out here.
I hate to feel this fear.
I hate the woodland noises,
I hate the lack of voices.
I hate my cabin mates,
I hate the things I hate.
I hate it that the ground is damp.
Never mind, we’re visiting the All-Girl’s Camp!
(C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2014
“I hate the things I hate” ha, LOVE that.
This sounds like a fellow who has his priorities straight. I loved reciting this.
oh, perfect ending! what a great twist!
HAHAHA! I know you so stinkn’ well. I knew you’d bring the girls’ camp in there!! 😀 !
Chuckle, chuckle!
As usual, Walt, you hit the spot! Mine is here: http://vivinfrance.wordpress.com/2014/07/06/dearest-faddah-wordle-168/ it needs the illustration!
Glamping out; ah, that is style! Thanks for the insight.
That just might even change Misky’s mind about ‘camping’.
Yes, I could manage those conditions, I think. ;D
CAMPING’S NOT ALL IT’S CRACKED UP TO BE (etheree)
Bugs;
black bears;
bruised bunions;
poison ivy
and poison sumac;
a hole in the pup tent
and raindrops finding the hole;
mockingbirds chattering all night
and mice in sleeping bags. Irritants,
all of them, but stars give succor to souls.
copyright 2014, William Preston
I simply love this, William.
Finding the positive in the negative. Nice William.
I love this – yes the stars in an area of low light pollution make all the little niggles nought. Not that I could call a black bear a little niggle, but then we don’t have those in Northern Europe.
Are you far enough north for wolverines?
not yet, though there are wolves in the Pyrreées and even a couple of bears. But that’s more than 1000 km South of here.
I’m shivering with you, including the stars
Oh, yes. Yes to every line! 😉
Wonderful, William, with a perfect ending.
Change of Heart
Hello muddah, hello faddah
this is me from camp Granada
I’m so homesick, I’m so blue
I even miss my sister sue
and the cookin’ is atrocious
made me barf quite ferocious
their lasagna is not like dad’s
had to cut it with an adz.
The lifeguard is a handsome lad…
Oh, never mind, it’s not so bad.
This broke me up, especially the thought of that tough lasagne. Wonderful.
I could sing this!
http://www.oldielyrics.com/lyrics/allan_sherman/hello_muddah_hello_fadduh_a_letter_from_camp.html
It is a song that I plagiarized sort of… 🙂
absolutely, that’s why it’s such fun.
Let’s sing along–and meet the handsome lad
Teeheehee! We are kinda sorta on the same path today, Debi. Cute one!
Precious from the Worthless
Stealth mosquitoes without a conscience.
And where’s the toilet paper?!?!
Hungry raccoon ninjas with claws.
Aimless bees armed with venom.
Demonic arachnids with sticky hands.
Flatulation ambushes in closed tents.
Anemic cell phone signals.
Poison IVY! (even the plants attack here).
Port-o-potty bathrooms from the gates of hell, or alter-universe.
But the precious times with family and friends is well worth it (God help us).
Benjamin Thomas
You have given me a new phrase, “flatulation ambush.” I enjoyed the poem, but I loved that one.
Yup to all of it. Camping is an oxymoron kind of occupation.
I agree with Viv.
Port-o-potty bathrooms from the gates of hell, or alter-universe… they are awful but better than a prickly bush.
Best of all, God help us. even the those precious times can test us. . .
Ohmigosh, yes … where’s the toilet paper?!!! That, mosquitoes, and lack of privacy are my worst camping nightmares. 😀 Good one, Benjamin!
MISSING HOME
Camp Wattcha Dewin’s got me in a knot.
I wake still sleepy from my lumpy cot
And the chow they serve is never real hot.
Counselor Van Camp I don’t like a lot.
I miss my home, my comic books too.
Did I mention my girl named Mary Lou?
She’s sweet and she’s kind. What can I do?
I miss her smile. I hope she’ll be true.
Big boys don’t cry no matter how sad.
Tonight we’ll watch movies. Camp ain’t so bad!
#
For me, this is fun to read because of the monorhyming; sort of a short Skeltonic. I get the picture of a pretty sorry camp if movies are a pick-up.
And me without a clue of monorhyming (I can guess) or Skeltonic. . . liked it any way
I like the way you wrote this – expert rhyme and metre.
wattcha dewin and van camp. Love it.
“Camp Wattcha Dewin” is so darned cute! “Counselor Van Camp” … hahahaha! Good, fun piece!
From Camp Critter
We call bathrooms “bat”rooms because they’re often hanging there,
and Camp Ritter “Camp Critter” for the raccoons, bugs and bears.
I’m tired of leaky tents and the mud from when it rains.
The onslaught of horseflies is doing something to our brains.
The fish smell nauseates me when we swim in that cold lake.
And the credentials of the counselors surely must be fake.
Cooking breakfast consumes hours and then it’s time for lunch.
My air mattress has gone flat with my blankets in a bunch.
I’m fearful for our lives, when in the woods we roam.
But with all the fun we’re having, I’m not ready to go home.
This is uproariously funny, and even the last like sounds tongue-in-cheek. I love it.
tee-hee-hee
Every line is fun, but this one is out-of-the-ordinary and such an observance: “Cooking breakfast consumes hours and then it’s time for lunch.” HAHAHA
Don’t think I want to go to Camp Critter even if there is some fun involved. Fun poem
Hilarious, Connie!
Air mattress? That’s not camping – that’s glamping! Good poem.
A CAMPER’S LAMENT
The campground sets my skin afire
A black fly’s bite—no cricket choir
What’s fun about a bumpy bed
Who likes cold water’s spray on head
I’m soaked when rain crawls in the tent
And who could like the toilet’s scent
Canned food for meals becomes grotesque
And most of all I miss my desk
Add drunken neighbors late at night
Pace changing, dif’rent, life’s all right
What a hoot, Darline! I especially like:
“I’m soaked when rain crawls in the tent
And who could like the toilet’s scent”
😀
I love the images and sounds here, especially the rhyming of desk with grotesque.
My weekly report
Dawn has cracked my bones !
They made us clean the toilets right after so called ‘lunch’!
The sun is always blazing mad!
Shadows have stinging voices and hairy legs!
Birds are so misbehaved!
The counselors have dragon eyes everywhere!
Campfires cast an eerie spell!
No one laughs at my jokes!
Even the Mosquitos pick on me !
But these trees with healing hands !! – I think I’ll stay awhile:)
Such a “kid” voice and fun/creative observations right up until the final line in which there is even a twist in the voice. Good job!
Birds are so misbehaved!
The counselors have dragon eyes everywhere!
So funny!
Yes, those stayed with me too. Wonderfully funny piece.
funny! Reads like a kid’s complaint, all right to the !!!
(maybe add ALL CAPS)
This is the camp from …. But we are not allowed to say the last word/
At the camp from …the tents are made of
Old bed sheets and the rain comes right trough them.
There is no indoor plumbing & we have to walk
A mile to the outhouse.
No plumbing.
We bathe in the river which is all muddy.
We only get to bring 1 blanket and at night
Everything freezes.
Not enough batteries for our flashlights.
All we have to read are old Archie comic books
From the previous century.
We can’t get a signal on our phones or anything electronic.
We are learning how people lived in the Dark Ages.
Marian, this is brilliant! The title is adorable and every line sounds like a kid’s complaint. Love this!
learning how people lived in the Dark Ages… ha, I guess it seems that way to kids. My oldest asked me when she was four if we had towels when I was little. What?
This place never left that Dark Ages, it would seem. Some is a bit painful for this old person to read (” … Archie comic books / From the previous century.”)
The first line sets the cranky tone for the whole poem, which had me giggling. I’ve discovered that camp in US doesn’t mean the same at all as the word camp in UK – or France, and you poem made a lot of the difference very clear.
Very. Clever, Marion. I love that last line.
THAT BOY
With good looks and muscles he’s brimmin’.
It shows when he’s out there a’swimmin’.
He’s staring at Susie
(that life-guarding floozy!)
He thinks he is God’s gift to women.
And not that I’d notice, but hey –
He’s flirting with Rosie and Faye,
Katrina, Deb … Gee,
Now he’s flirting with ME?
Now I’m thinkin’ this place is okay!
© Marie Elena Good
ahhh, true love. Ain’t it grand?
😉
Oh, great take, this.
Thanks Bill. And in case you haven’t been back to Poetic Asides to soak in the love … CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!!!!!!!! There is no one more deserving, for certain.
Thank you, but you know, you are my model.
That’s the spirit!
Amazing how thing can change.
Day 6 of My Captivity
We march everywhere…my legs ache.
Poison Ivy is the camp plant…I have spots that itch.
Mosquitos are the camp mascot…I have more spots that itch.
I have a stomach ache every morning…from holding my pee all night.
The raccoons got into the garbage…kept us all awake last night.
Someone tripped me as I was running off the dock…I did a belly flop.
Someone put honey all over the floor…when we got up we had honey and ants stuck to our feet.
We think there is a bear eating kids here because boys keep disappearing.
My pocket knife is missing.
Gotta go it’s time for lunch! I love the food!
Well, at least something positive. This sounds just like a complaining kid!
Probably just as the poet intended. Love it.
Oh-so-much of what I hate about camping presented in ways that make me cringe! 😀
The food was probably the worst aspect of camping for me as a child.
To Whom This Should Concern:
After discerning thought I’ve learnt this camp
Is not for me. I’m every bit soggily damp,
And rust is eating through my boot’s clamps.
My sleeping bag is smelling rank after a prank
By that silly Janie Lee Potterhouse, and ants
Waltz about here like they own the place.
My sweatpants are mostly sweat, and my feet
Are now a shade of eggplant, and how am I
To bathe whilst standing on a muddy riverbank?
Now don’t misunderstand, I’m not all swank
Or posh, but I’m not at my best with my hair
Hung smelly dank. And cold beans, cold beans!
I swear that I can’t eat one more cold bean!
I’m a pitiful tramp who sleeps on the ground,
A tramp who eases cramps from my back
And legs come each and every dawn. But …
Look on the brightcide, like that song says:
“Always look on the brightcide of death.”
This is my pleadacide, my begacide.
‘cause I’m struggling to see the brightcide.
I hate camping.
Just brilliant, especially the rhymes, internal and ending, and the new “cides.”
Hear, hear! And I’m with you, Misk. Hate camping.
Thank you, William!
Brilliant. I get the message – there is NO bright cide.
Love your phrases in this!
Thanks! 🙂
Dear Gram
Bible Camp is not so great
It’s hurry up and wait, wait, wait
The food is bland and always cold
The bathroom’s full; I have to hold
The shower’s never hot enough
I don’t like all this outdoor stuff
I wish that I knew how to swim
Then I could cool off after gym
The sing-a-longs are not for me
‘Cause no one here can sing on key
I cannot sleep with all the noise
My cabin’s full of farting boys
I miss my room and my soft bed
The pillow where I put my head
My toys and friends and my pet cat
Ain’t none of those things where I’m at
But mostly I miss you and Gramp
Why did you send me to Bible Camp
Oh well, I guess you needed a break
So I’ll tough it out for you alls sake
Don’t worry that I’m rambling on
Camp will be over before too long
I’ll tell you more next time I write
I gotta’ run, it’s movie night
© 2014 Earl Parsons
This is so enjoyable, and even a bit sentimental (“I’ll tough it out for you alls sake”).
Love this, Earl! The cadence just marches on at a steady beat, until “Why did you send me to Bible Camp,” which doesn’t break rhythm, but does break cadence … adding to the sudden turn from complaint to questioning, slightly hurt feelings. EXCELLENTLY penned, IMHO.
This poet evidently speaks from bitter experience! I love the structure and rhythm of the poem.
Hello Mutter
Bug bites scratchy
Sunburn itchy
All the campers getting bitchy
Rainy humid
Dry and dusty
Why are all the cabins musty?
Spiders spinning
Lizards, snakes
Always eggs, not Frosted Flakes
We tied the counselors to stakes! :)
OHMIGOSH!!!!! My favorite of the day!!!
Oh, yes; mine too.
great rhyming
(Poem w/image: http://lettheballoonssailmeaway.wordpress.com)
{My husband would have been a glamper, so I imagine this}
My Hero
“No honey, those assembly pieces must go somewhere!”
“Mom! I found these extra pieces, inside Dad’s chair!”
The ants are marching in? Well, you parked on Their hill.
…Okay, I know, my containers do spill.
Please don’t leave your wrappers lying around.
Like you, they know, where goodies are found.
Potty breaks at night— don’t forget your shoes…
…Those bears, you know, are hungry too.
Rising with the sun… I’m the only one.
Lying next to you at night, we catch up on reading, by lantern’s warm light.
The tenderness of that last line, and image, is so touching. Thanks for this.
Thank you, William ❤ !!
I loved writing this one!
Grass blades scratch my legs
Please take me home, I’ll eat my eggs
Mosquitos are as big as Smart cars
Possibly new arrivals from Mars
Constant shrill of counselor’s whistle
Want to squirt him with a water pistol
You cannot believe the crummy food
Looks like its has been pre-chewed
Today we had races in the pool
Well, it sure beats going back to school!
[…] Creative Bloomings-GRANADA CAMP FOR WAYWARD POETS – “HELLO MUDDAH, HELLO FADDAH” […]
Star-Struck
There’re pincher bugs
giant slugs, spiders
and stinging bees.
There’re rashes,
nasty leaches
and the pond is slimy.
There’s lots of poison ivy,
vicious mosquitos,
giant June beetles
and unbelievable starry-skies.
Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2014
That about sums it up for me.
Nice save at the end!
I’m late to the party again. Here’s my little song, though in rough draft only. Enjoy!
Camp Iwanna
Hello world, why’d I come here,
Where the rain dissolved sun’s sear?
Do I hafta tread water
Just to prove I’m your daughter?
Did you know there’s no bathrooms,
And on the walls they grow mushrooms?
Pullin’ pranks has become my pastime;
I’ve learned uses for green pond slime,
And with two weeks left I’ve begun to think,
It’s now time to push those counselors to drink.
Love this, Claudsy!
Thanks, Sara.
Hopefully, I’ll gt back to leave my own comments in a little while.