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    A Downeast Sampler
    A Downeast Sampler
    A Downeast Sampler
    Ebook124 pages22 minutes

    A Downeast Sampler

    By Dale Theriault

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    About this ebook

    The author, a seventy-five year old Mainer, believes that humor is one of life's most important tools for healing. Consequently he has found the subject readily available in every aspect of daily living. In a modern world of incredible stress on fellow man (and woman ), he has taken an old fashioned approach to tickle the funny bone through irreverent humor on damn near everything. This first e-book is as titled a sample collection written in his own unique poetic style.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDale Theriault
    Release dateSep 29, 2014
    ISBN9781310689253
    A Downeast Sampler
    Author

    Dale Theriault

    Dale W. Theriault, a native of the State of Maine and retired after a forty-year career in Municipal Parks and Recreation, is providing Maine's Down East humor in several books of poetry. Topics range from politics to love, nature, comedy, philosophy, life, death, and the everyday struggle of America's residents. A graduate of the University of Maine, he was actually educated in the fifty odd years following graduation...irreverent but never irrelevant, he expresses his views on the status of current affairs.

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      Book preview

      A Downeast Sampler - Dale Theriault

      Who was that idiot Murphy,

      Responsible for the line,

      That everytime we each screwed up,

      Don't worry it's just fine,

      It's not our fault we do declare,

      For these and other quirks,

      It's that damned Murphy guy

      Who's screwing up the works,

      Jesus, he must be a geek

      For all that he does wrong,

      If he's still standing through the years

      I guess he's mighty strong,

      At least in physical stature and

      Not so much in mind,

      It's strange that he's not been the death

      Of Woman and Mankind.

      ROAD-EE-HOLE

      Driving on one of Maine's country roads,

      I saw it at the side,

      It lay in blackened rubber strips,

      A victum of one last ride,

      A lifetime filled with countless stories,

      Gathered from shore to shore,

      If it could have been retired today,

      There'd be so many more,

      Or if it had been in another state,

      Where roads are so much finer,

      Like Texas and other western states,

      Or North and South Carolina,

      Alas its fate was doomed for death

      After Northeast tolls,

      It would have been a very Goodyear,

      If not for Maine's potholes

      Reign

      Rain, the substance of rebirth

      Semen of the Earth,

      Impregnate man's domain,

      The source of life is rain,

      But not in November,

      Not this time of year,

      When torrents pouring from above

      Give cause to life's despair.

      Who calls for this,

      Did God to torment man,

      Is not impending cold enough

      To blanket over land.

      To cause one's heart to cease

      To feel the warmth of happiness,

      To chill the psyche of the soul

      And fill one with distress.

      Nature does not make earth bloom

      Til Spring's warm winds prevail.

      So, tis a shame man's spirit dies

      From her pre-winter gale.

      Springtime In the Country

      You know that it's springtime in the country,

      Cause the brooks are bubbling loud,

      And the birds that flew up from the

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