Since 2010, I’ve been writing poems to accompany my annual holiday cards to friends and family. Enjoy!
2026
— COMING SOON! —
2025
It’s holiday and bowl season.
So, Hawkeyes, raise a beer!
Our Victory Polka, though, insists
In Heaven, beer does not exist.
That’s why we drink it here.
Ode to Hawkeyes
Let’s drape ourselves in black and gold to show our Hawkeye pride.
Then scream, “Go Hawks!” to all we pass when we step foot outside.
In my years as a Hawkeye fan, a lot of greats passed by,
But none live larger in my mind than legend, Hayden Fry.
He blessed us with the Tigerhawk and locker room of pink.
The French fry isn’t Hayden’s, but it should be, don’t you think?
We now enjoy Kirk Ferentz in his 27th year.
As Big Ten football’s most wins coach, he gives us cause to cheer.
Although his nepotism did leave some of us in doubt,
The offense now seems back on track with Brian Ferentz out.
Coach Bluder’s women’s B-ball team made two trips to the ‘ship.
With most wins in the Big Ten, Lisa Bluder is the $#!%.
A stadium, a statue, and the Heisman say it all.
Nile Kinnick was the greatest, when he handled the ball.
The list of greats is lengthy, there’s Chuck Long, and there’s Chris Street.
Tennessee Williams and Gene Wilder are part of the elite.
Most recently, on Carver’s court, the one who lit the spark…
The greatest Hawkeye of them all might well be Caitlin Clark.
2024
In the movie, Field of Dreams,
Ray builds it, so he will come.
Shoeless Joe then asks one day,
“Is this Heaven?” “No,” says Ray.
“It’s Iowa.” (Where Kent’s from)
Ode to Iowa
Some call it the Hawkeye State, though Cyclone fans may not agree.
Hawkeyes usually beat the Clones, except this year, surprisingly.
The Goldfinch, with its bright plumage, is Iowa’s state bird.
It’s black and gold, like Hawkeyes, but it poops a white-ish turd.
Much corn is found in Iowa, in farm fields far and wide,
The scary thing is Children of the Corn who hide inside.
The state name has a consonant, but sadly, just the one.
Three quarters of the name consists of vowels, ain’t that fun?
Much like that single consonant, we had another loner.
Hoover’s our only president, but his term was a groaner.
Two rivers flowing north to south mark east and west state borders,
While at the top and bottom, a straight line keeps things in order.
Trekking between the borders is each summer’s RAGBRAI run,
Though an eight-day July bike ride doesn’t seem like too much fun.
A favorite summer edible is corn upon the cob.
Just grease it up with butter and inhale it like a slob.
Did someone mention butter? Have you been to our state fair?
The pinnacle attraction is the butter cow found there.
Yes, Iowa is home to me, and there’s no place like home.
So, in my ruby slippers, I’ll wrap up this kickass poem.
2023
It’s that time of year again.
Holidays are drawing near.
Let’s indulge and celebrate.
Overtop your dinner plate.
We’ll live like kings this year!
Ode to Kings
Mufasa taught his son, Simba to act like a king oughta.
But Pumbaa and Timon believed in Hakuna Matata.
So they advised no worries for the rest of Simba’s days.
Yet Simba realized better and he changed his foolish ways.
The King and I is timeless. It stars Anna and the King.
But this king is quite grumpy and acts like a ding-a-ling.
Though Anna tries her best to teach and has mad dancing skills,
She can’t prevent the king’s dirt nap when he falls deathly ill.
King Charles was a prince for over 74 years.
Then Queen Elizabeth passed on and left us all in tears.
Now Charles is the king and I guess we’re OK with that.
Yet we still miss Elizabeth ‘cause Charles feels quite flat.
The king of horror, Stephen King, writes lots of scary books.
He tackles unique subjects with suspense that really cooks.
Cujo, Christine, and Carrie were possessed by something odd.
Eventually, their downfall gave us reason to applaud.
There’s B.B. King and Carole King, and there’s Burger King too.
But no amount of kingly charm compares at all to you. 😉
2022
On these, bleak, lifeless, winter days,
You may daydream of summer.
To hell with it, let’s hit the links!
Gas up the cart and chill the drinks!
Too cold you think? Oh, bummer.
Ode to Golf
While I no longer do, I used to play golf as a kid.
It’s one of few athletic undertakings that I did.
Though how athletic should we call this game of golf we play?
You walk (or drive) the course and enjoy beer along the way.
Just swing a club and hit a ball into a tiny hole,
And do it 18 times per round. That’s the entire goal.
Take no more strokes than necessary to stay under par.
If not, you’ll get a bogey. Golf terms sure do sound bizarre.
Do you recall the movie that paid homage to the game?
It was an 80’s classic, and Caddyshack is its name.
Groundskeeper Carl prowled the course to trap his nemesis.
But the gopher proved too crafty. Poor Carl always missed.
Some years ago, I saw a pro event with the real goods.
Among the pros attending was the greatest, Tiger Woods.
I like Tiger and Rory, but my fave is Adam Scott.
He’s one hell of a golfer, and he’s also very hot.
So, if you are a golfer, good luck to you come this spring.
If not, then best of luck with whatever makes your bell ring.
2021
The holidays are here again
With all their warmth and light.
It’s been a year without Dad here.
The season lost some of its cheer.
Its colors aren’t as bright.
Ode to Colors
While it’s my favorite color, blue is also how I feel.
A year to mourn the loss was insufficient time to heal.
Dad still should be here with us, and his absence makes no sense,
But time insists we move on and discuss him in past tense.
At low points, I grow angry until all I see is red.
It’s hard to make sense of a world that’s turned on its head.
I dreamt the world rallied ‘round those most needing protection.
Instead, it turned its back and walked the opposite direction.
It’s John Deere’s green and yellow that remind me most of Dad.
I see him on his tractor and recall the fun he had.
Parading ‘round the county and out ploughing in the field,
Or hoisting grandkids on his lap to let them take the wheel.
All colors of the rainbow shown through Dad’s soul here on earth.
He lived life with great purpose and knew what this life is worth.
I’ll try to take my que from him approaching the new year,
And maybe, through my actions, help his spirit reappear.
2020
It’s that time of year again.
Soon Father Christmas will be here.
Then quickly, in a couple weeks,
Onto the scene Father Time creeps,
To usher in a brand-new year.
Ode to Fathers
Dedicated to Bill Bride (March 24, 1943 – December 7, 2020)
I was very blessed to have a dad I loved a lot.
Yes, when it comes to fathers, I myself, hit the jackpot.
They say nobody’s perfect, and I guess that may be true,
But Dad, you came darn close, and that’s why everyone loved you.
At heart, he was a farmer, and a car salesman also,
But most of all, he’s Dad, to me and Phil and Monte Joe.
His favorite place to sit was on a John Deere tractor’s seat,
And from that perch, his happy place, Dad’s world was complete.
He had a devout spirit, centered upon God above.
That spirit shown through every day and showered us in love.
As easy going as they come, Dad rarely raised his voice.
When in a jam, friends looked to him, if given any choice.
Our life without him in it absolutely makes no sense.
I may pretend I’m dreaming, as a form of self-defense.
He will be with me always, though his time on earth is done,
And nothing makes me prouder than to say I’m Bill Bride’s son.
2019
Are you as happy, as am I?
This season really rocks!
So, this year, as I wish you well,
I’ll take a cue from SNL.
It’s my d*** in a box.
Ode to Boxes
A box is quite a common thing, but it can hold such joy.
This time of year, kids open it to find a favorite toy.
A tiny box holding a ring can make a person’s day.
It means a life of wedded bliss is not too far away.
Sometimes a box surprises you when opening the lid.
Jack-in-the-box can traumatize an unsuspecting kid.
A box can house a rodent that you want to relocate.
Just poke enough holes in the lid so it won’t suffocate.
A box of chocolates holds a treat we quite enjoy, and yet,
As Forrest Gump learned from his mom, you don’t know what you’ll get.
Come February, that sweet treat comes in a heart-shaped box.
Present one to your sweetheart, and you’ll score big, you sly fox!
To think outside the box is viewed as quite a skill to tout.
But mimes get stuck in boxes, and they can’t think their way out.
No matter what is in each box you may receive this season,
Rejoice, ‘cause someone special gave it to you for a reason.
2018
The season is upon us,
With its music so melodic.
What better way to celebrate
Than with a nod to my home state?
This year, I’m going gothic.
Ode to Goths
I traveled to the house that was made famous by Grant Wood,
And there, in elf attire, fork in hand, I proudly stood.
It’s plain to see, the Gothic House is pretty as can be,
And it inspired thoughts of gothic-ness to come to me.
Folks spruce it up each season, making things so bright and gay,
But goths choose to express themselves in quite another way.
It isn’t brightly colored clothes that they throw on their back.
Instead, they stick to just one tone, and dress themselves in black.
Sometimes, underneath their eyes, they will apply mascara.
Their smoky gaze can pierce your soul if you lock eyes. I dare ya!
Ha, ha, I joke. That is not true. The goths are just like us.
Except for their complete and utter lack of cheerfulness.
I should not jest, this is the season of eternal hope,
And poking fun at goths makes me look like a silly dope.
So in your travels, near and far, should you cross a goth’s path,
Offer them a dirty joke, and try to get a laugh.
2017
Please forgive the language.
I don’t mean to offend you.
It’s the holidays already,
So I dressed as Cousin Eddie,
And my RV’s full of poo.
Ode to Poo
It comes in different shapes and sizes. Every one’s unique.
To see what your turd looks like, just stand up and take a peek.
It’s often brown in color, though not always, heaven knows.
For mine turns black as midnight after eating Oreos.
It can smell of rotten eggs, or of a deceased opossum,
But squirt Lysol in the air, and you’ll smell cherry blossom.
With luck, it slides out easily, but it might take a push.
Beware, ‘cause pushing can result with hemorrhoids in your tush.
It sometimes sneaks into your pants along with a loose fart,
And then you’re saddled with the job of cleaning up that shart.
As babies, we could lay a brick without a single care.
Our diapers caught it all, and Mom or Dad would soon be there.
But as adults, the process isn’t nearly that much fun.
If we don’t wipe it well enough, our undies get a run.
I know this talk is impolite. The subject is taboo.
But maybe we should lighten up and celebrate our poo!
2016
Sometimes opening a gift
Can leave you in despair.
It’s no Red Ryder BB gun.
I hope Aunt Clara’s having fun,
‘Cause I’m a pink nightmare.
Ode to Faking It
At certain times throughout our lives, our gut reaction shows.
Especially at moments when the situation blows.
Although your shrink will tell you it’s not good to hold it in,
To spare another’s feelings, you must sometimes fake a grin.
Perhaps your child shows a dreadful picture she has drawn,
And all your energy is spent just stifling a yawn.
In an effort to avoid her crocodile tears,
You must confess the drawing is the best you’ve seen in years.
What if your spouse asks, “Hey, don’t you admire my physique?”
And truthfully, you know that he is really rather weak.
Instead of saying, “Honey, you had better hit the gym”
You smack him on the ass and say those glutes look good on him.
So as the holidays draw near, please learn this lesson well,
And if your gut reaction is, “Oh screw me! What the hell?”
Instead, just take a moment’s pause, then turn your head and say,
“Thanks darling. It’s the perfect gift. I’ll wear it every day!”
2015
Some folks think that less is more,
And too much is just tacky.
I however, disagree.
So won’t you come along with me,
And let’s get freakin’ wacky!
Ode to Overindulgence
There’s something to be said for reigning in and holding back.
But I propose, instead, we all just cut ourselves some slack.
Why restrain yourself from what you really want to do?
Regret for not attempting it will come back to haunt you.
It’s time to dig down deep and step it up, for heaven’s sake.
Don’t just stop at one piece, you can eat the whole damn cake!
Is there a pair of pretty shoes you noticed at the store?
Instead of buying one pair, why not take home three or four?
If you think one glass of your favorite brew will be enough,
You’re wrong, but drinking four or five will make you extra tough.
Your spouse and you may think that one or two kids is just fine.
Why not pop out enough to make your own offensive line?
So on this holiday you can sit back and be uptight,
Or vomit Christmas spirit with more gifts and bows and lights!
Yes, everything in moderation makes a lot of sense,
But so does cutting loose at times and sparing no expense.
2014
I sat in softly falling snow,
Reflecting on the year gone by,
And then a thought occurred to me.
“Oh dear, I kinda have to pee.
Do these tights have a built-in fly?”
Ode to Pause & Reflection
Amid the hustle bustle of this busy time of year,
It often seems the need to rush quite drains us of our cheer.
In an effort to appreciate this magic season,
I suggest a thoughtful pause and a return to reason.
Instead of fighting other shoppers for the perfect toy,
Kidnap a squirrel from a tree and give that to your boy.
Don’t be kitchen bound all day ‘cause you think you’re supposed ta
Have the in-laws take your car and drive to Ponderosa.
Must every holiday parade have you there in the crowd?
Why not stay in, call up a friend; then read to them aloud.
Instead of driving to the mall, try Santa on the phone.
Just dial up a friendly senior at the nursing home.
Why bother with the needles and the mess of a real tree?
Frank Costanza’s Festivus pole is good enough for me.
So don’t stress out. Please slow things down. Enjoy the holidays.
Just don’t wake up on New Year’s Day within a foggy haze.
2013
Although you may not believe me
This card has not been photoshopped.
When I jumped way up in the air
The shot was snapped before I dropped.
Ode to Jumping
It’s better to jump in the air, than stay upon the ground.
The view is sweeter from up there as your eyes gaze around.
Most anyone can learn to jump. It can be done with ease.
For goodness sake though, when you land, be sure to bend your knees.
A variation of the jump is skipping, don’t ya know.
Just walk and jump in fluid motion everywhere you go.
But let’s get back to jumping now, ‘cause it is mighty keen.
The best enhancement to jumping must be the trampoline.
The trampoline allows for jumping higher than before,
And with its help a flip or twirl isn’t such a chore.
There is one form of jumping I dislike for what it lacks.
I find no joy in jumping when I’m doing jumping jacks.
Bungee jumping is a feat that some folks find appalling.
It isn’t so much jumping; it seems much more like falling.
Jumping in its many forms should be appreciated.
Kris Kross will make ya jump, jump, but that makes me sound dated.
2012
Check me out with Mr. C!
He was quite a sight to see
What do you suppose will be
Placed by him beneath my tree?
Ode to Santa Claus
As the special day draws near, I take a moment’s pause.
Who exactly is this man we know as Santa Claus?
He has a beard of snowy white and nose of cherry red,
And what a funny looking hat he wears upon his head!
If I did not know better, I would say he’s quite deranged.
I’m thinkin’ in the brain department, Santa got shortchanged.
Who on earth in their right mind would do what Santa does?
Harder still to understand, he does it just because.
Santa puts up with the elves, and with the reindeer farts.
Then each Christmas Eve, from Mrs. Claus, he sadly parts.
He’s morbidly obese, you know, but still, he plays the game,
Inhaling milk and cookies so the children know he came.
He lugs a bag that holds a toy for each and every child.
To say his back is out of whack is putting it quite mild.
Although we may not get it, there is one thing that I know…
This world would be much drearier without his, “Ho, ho, ho!”
2011
Although the belly is my own,
It is slightly overblown.
I puffed it out and held my breath,
So you would laugh yourself to death.
Ode to the New Year
As is the case with every year, it went by way too fast.
Now I sit here pondering the 12 months that just passed.
My powers of recall are just not what they used to be.
Excuse me for a moment; I must pause to go wee wee.
I’m back, and I feel quite refreshed after that bathroom break.
You know what I could go for now, a piece of carrot cake.
Of all the types of cakes there are, I like carrot the best.
Don’t ask me why, ‘cause carrots in the raw, I quite detest.
I like to juice the carrots though, and add some apples too.
A daily dose of that can really soften up one’s poo.
It’s better to be regular than plugged up, don’t ya know.
That’s why I try avoiding cheese, although I love it so.
Yes indeed, this year flew by in the blink of an eye.
We’re all a whole year older now, which makes me want to cry.
In summary, what is the one conclusion we can make?
Carrots are delicious in the form of juice or cake.
2010
The rear in the photo is not my own.
It is entirely made of foam.
I hope it did not make you groan.
Won’t you please enjoy this poem…
Ode to Christmas
It’s that time of year again, when Christmas bells ring through the air.
Out of me and my two brothers, only my head still grows hair.
Egg nog and hot chocolate are tasty treats this time of year.
On the drive to Iowa, I’m careful to watch out for deer.
Caroling is a fun way to spread the Christmas joy around.
This one time my number 2 was so big it would not flush down.
Santa and his eight reindeer traverse the globe in just one night.
I don’t get a lot of sun; therefore, my skin is pasty white.
What can be more beautiful than a bright, shiny Christmas tree?
My red beard makes me resemble Mitch from Modern Family.
It’s perfect to wake on Christmas to a gently falling snow.
Some folks whistle by inhaling, but when I whistle, I blow.
Christmas is the time of year to cherish those we love the most.
In addition to oatmeal, for breakfast, I enjoy wheat toast.
It’s my wish for you this Christmas to have all you can dream of.
Most importantly, of course, I simply wish you lots of love.