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Author Archives: The Crazymad Writer

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About The Crazymad Writer

FREE EBOOKS FOR ALL, that's what I say, FREE EBOOKS FOR ALL, courtesy of ME, The Crazymad Writer. Stories for children and young at heart adults. And remember, my eBooks are FREE FREE FREE!

Slug Joke

Slug Joke

“What is the difference between a slug and a bag of salt?” Bert asked his friend Fred.
“Go on, tell me,” Fred answered.
“Salt makes your food taste better; slugs, however, shrivel and up and die if they come into contact with salt.
“That’s terrible!” Fred protested. “That’s not a joke!”
“You think it’s terrible?” Bert replied, flapping his arms about wildly, with excitement. “Imagine how the poor slugs feel!”

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Posted by on April 18, 2014 in humor, humour, joke

 

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One two buckle my shoe

!

One two buckle my shoe,

Three four knock at the door,

Five six pickup sticks,

Seven eight open the gate,

Nine ten start again,

Nah, that would be silly,

I would much rather go look for slugs to kill.

(It’s funny old world, isn’t it?)

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Posted by on April 17, 2014 in humor, humour, poems

 

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That’s Joe

Slug

That’s Joe

There once was a slug called Joe

Who wished he were fast, not slow

Until one day, while alone

He saw a snail struggling, carrying its home

Now he slimes about happy: That’s Joe

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A Funny Thing Happened The Other Day

Snail at the Crazymad Writer's blog

A Funny Thing Happened
The Other Day

I saw this sleek snail in the green grass one day,
A flyboy, he was, I do have to say,
For he whisked himself past as fast could be,
In a shell of many colours, a flyboy was he.
*
I had hardly perceived that he had even arrived,
Before he disappeared into the sunset – I tell you no lie!
That snail of many colours, as bold as could be,
Was a flyboy for sure, so flashy was he!
*
He made me so sad, as sad as could be,
For I am a slug, not flashy, that’s me,
No shell to impress with colours and bling,
Just a poor, boring slug and it’s a terrible thing.
*
But I do have this plan, a means to an end,
That could make so cool, like snails and their friends,
All that I need are paint and a brush,
A golf ball and glue – not really so much!
*
With these said items, I will make myself grand,
Painting the ball, gluing it on my back is my plan,
Then I’ll parade myself round as proud as can be,
Like the snail of many colours and just as flashy, hee hee.

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Posted by on April 17, 2014 in humor, humour, poems

 

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Oh, To Have Legs…

Slug

Oh to have legs like insects and things,

To walk on all fours is something I dream,

Or even just two, like HU-MAN THEINGS.

Would make me so happy, would realise my dreams

*

I dream of the day, I grow legs and see,

What it feels like to walk, not slime so lowly,

You see, I am a poor slug with no legs at all,

A garbled old thing, just slime and slow drawl.

*

Now don’t get me wrong it’s not all bad, I confess,

There are some perks living in a damp mess,

But I cannot help wonder about legs, I admit,

Oh lord give me legs, be it two, four or six.

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Posted by on April 17, 2014 in humor, humour, poems

 

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Is it Spring yet?

Squirrel at the Crazymad Writer's blog

Is it Spring yet?

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Posted by on April 17, 2014 in photos

 

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Ah…Grasshopper

Grasshopper

Ah…Grasshopper

(His beady eyes are watching YOU).

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Posted by on April 17, 2014 in news

 

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Smokestack Pollution

Smokestack Pollution

Phew, what a pong!

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Posted by on April 17, 2014 in photos

 

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Thank God it’s Friday…

Thank God it’s Friday. No, wait a minute,

it’s not Friday, it’s only Thursday – ARRRRGH.

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Posted by on April 17, 2014 in humor, humour

 

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Whispering Jesse – John Denver

Whispering Jesse – John Denver

I often have wandered in deep contemplation
It seems that the mind runs wild when you’re all alone
The way that it could be
The way that it should be
Things I’d do differently if I could do them again

I’ve always loved spring time, the passing of winter
The green of the new leaves and life goin on
The promise of morning
The long days of summer
Warm nights of loving her beneath the bright stars

I’m just an old cowboy from high Colorado
Too old to ride anymore, too blind to see
I sleep in the city now
Away from the mountains
Away from the cabin we always called home

I dream I left there
On an old Palomino
Whispering Jesse rode right by my side
I long to hold her
To hear her soft breathing
The touch of her cool hands on my fevered brow

Whispering Jesse still rides in the mountains
Still sings in the canyons
Still lives in my heart

Words and music by John Denver

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Posted by on April 16, 2014 in John Denver

 

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