Poetry Battles With Grandma

After I linked to this bad poetry contest that the Jobsite Theater folks put on, to win tickets to see March of the Kitefliers, my grandma put in her two cents, and we've been sparing ever since.

Grandma:
I read your poem, darlin'
And it really made me cry.
It made me realize
Writing is not your forte to survive!

You're a darlin' daughter
And a computer whiz,
But, at writing poetry
You created a mahnificent Fizz.

Me:
Bart, he jumped on her lap
And then tried to kiss her, that chap
We are just friends
and that's where it ends
She said as he let out a yap

Grandma:
It's true Bart landed in my lap
And lemme tell ya', that was quite a flap.
He wanted to kiss
This 93 year old miss
Who warned "you'll set yourself up for a slap."

Me:
My grandma, she is an Okie
It really is no jokie
she loves the red dirt
and she loves to flirt
but the old men from OK are pokey

Grandma:
Grandma is old and getting grey
But who says she still can't play?
Home from Kansas, washed her clothes
Now off to Utah she goes!!

Leaving Thursday on the big, big bird
Stopover in Phoenix and then on again,
Salt Lake City at a quarter of five
If there's no bombing and we're still alive.

Me:
It must be nice to be free
All the places to see
but I have a job
and it makes my head throb
Can't wait til I'm ninety-three