Poetry with Grandkids

 Hi All...  It's 

And... it's a week with grandkids!  We love it... the only drawback is our waning energy.  Still, what memories we will have!  Crafts, which this week included slime and some undefinable goop, paper plate frisbee, bowls made from paper plates and yarn, and many origami projects... and then there were card games which occasioned silly, ridiculous and hilarious interchanges, an afternoon bowling, and all that food! We ate well. 

I challenged my two visiting grandkids, Paul is 12 (almost 13) and Claire is 11, to write me some poetry for my blog. Here are their wonderful submissions...

Paul's Poem 

We love spending time with our grandparents

But my opinion, you’ll have to take

That of our visit cake was the best part

Thus this ode is to marvelous cake

Oh, the light, sweet, fluffy interior

The part which is hard to bake

I think you would find superior

To anything but more cake

Sure, the grandparents took us bowling

And will bring us to play in the lake

But really, how does that compare

To the marvelous, fabulous cake?

© Paul Duncan Eastlund

A beautiful ode to such a simple cake, right?  This is that last of the Sand Cake, from an old Danish Recipe, very much like a pound cake. The only rising agent is the egg whites, which are beaten to a peak. It is made simply from butter, sugar, flour, eggs and a little vanilla. No need for sugary frosting. This particular cake is made with cassava flour due to wheat intolerance, and is rich in eggs, so it even makes a good breakfast.

Getting a recent photo of these kids is tricky. They play shy to the camera. So... we sort of cornered them for this one. I think it's rather cute. (See the red case behind Claire?  That's her lizard, Spike.)

Here's Claire's poem:

A Girl's Demise

By Claire Eastlund

I like ooey, gooey slime

But I can’t think of a rhyme

This poem is wasting my precious time

And it doesn’t even pay a dime

If I had a choice I would be asleep

Knocked out and snoring in dreams so deep

If a tank rolled by I wouldn't make a peep

My notes ‘bout this poem piled in a heap

I would dream about slime jumping from the page

Red as an apple and frothing with rage

It chastised me for putting it in a cage

And made it so I would never see old age

THE END

Slime made with white glue, shaving cream & borax

Today's round-up is at Carol's Corner. Click the link to find more poetry...

Be happy, be well, and always be hungry for a poem.