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A PINE PINE
by Charles E MinshallOur neighbors behind us
Have pine needle mines.
They come from their trees
Called Monterey pines.
On any windy day
We are inundated,
With the pine needles
That have come to be hated.
They cover our roofs
And fill all of the gutters,
Many swear words they've caused
In mind and in mutters.
11/11/2005 Posted on 11/12/2005
Copyright © 2024 Charles E Minshall
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 11/12/05 at 07:05 AM Enjoyed this...and I don't envy you. Those are l o n g needles. Thanks. |
| Posted by Michelle Angelini on 11/13/05 at 01:06 AM Oh yes, Charlie I love this because I've lived in places where the California live oaks (the one with the leaves with little stickers in them) shed worse than an angora cat!
~Chelle~ |
| Posted by Mary Ellen Smith on 11/13/05 at 01:18 AM I hear the frustration in this...what a mess huh. |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 11/14/05 at 12:39 AM Hahaha! A humorous reminder of Fall and the tasks peculiar to the season! |
| Posted by Graeme Fielden on 11/16/05 at 03:51 AM although those pine needles are no fun, this poem certainly is. Nice work, Charlie :) |
| Posted by Jean Mollett on 09/18/06 at 02:21 AM Hi Charles,
I do like Pine trees, but the needles can make a mess. I heard they make good stuff to put on the flowerbeds. etc. I sure love the pine cones. :) |
| Posted by Jean Mollett on 09/18/06 at 02:22 AM Great write, Charles. |
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