This is a story, short, but true
About a woman who had eyes that were black and blue.
About a man who can eat things ten times his size,
And a dog who was considered to be amazingly wise
They lived in a land of shades of four,
And lived in a cave which had no door
But that's not the point I want to make
Because the things I just said are truly fake
But the story is of a man who juggled his head
And when he got bored he'd play dead
He had one friend and his name was Tom
Tom made a bomb which killed his mom
He became very dull, empty, and grim
But moving along, for the story is not of him.
It's about a woman who had turn green
Sick from all the beauty she had seen
Wait! The story is not about her either,
This story pertains to a boy eating a beaver
O'boy, I just can’t get this right!
I think it’s about a girl who lost her arm in a fight.
Or of a guy who collected decapitated heads,
Or of a baby who sold bear traps as beds.
Once upon a time the sun lost its shine,
Once upon a time we all came from slime
I better make this story end right now,
Before I tell the story of the man who birthed a cow.
My grandson asked if back when I was young
I had ever done anything naughty or wrong
I said shut the door put on listening ears
And Ill tell you a tale of rank shivering fear
One night at midnight I sneaked from my bed
To a neigr knocker fastened a thread
Old Mrs. Murphy, ninety and living all alone
That she was a witch was really well known
I pulled the string and the knocker did bang
Then over the garden wall lithely I sprang
When the old woman limped to the door
Finding nobody there she ranted and swore
Again and again I pulled that on the thread
As over and over tears of laughter I shed
Then the moon clouded and all turned dark
A cold hand of fear icily fingered my heart
A voice rasped lowly filling me with dread
‘I’ve got you now and soon you’ll be dead’
I was then dragged to Mrs. Murphy’s door
Feeling more terrified than ever before
The door was opened I was pushed inside
Nowhere I could run nowhere I could hide
There in the kitchen the old woman sat
Black cloak and hair, black teeth and hat
Our neighbour then sat me down on a chair
The witch held me still with malevolent stare
Pointing long sharp nailed finger I felt the spell
As she spoke of hot flames and rotting in hell
I promised to be good and meant it sincerely
I’ve been good ever since, well almost, nearly
(5th in contest,’Childhood memories’ by Crystal Wilkins)
It seems ages since we met over your long, golden hair
an hour glass on the table keeping the meter.
It seems like too many dress up doll days when we played
take me to the river but don’t get our feet wet.
It seems we lost our inner selves painting our faces
painting our nails, singing karaoke at the bars.
Oh, to regain those lost years of our youth, unwrinkled skin
turn back all the pages, like winding gold on a spindle.
Instead we have just leaves, grieves, and grandchildren
with their laser guns, plastic skin and smug attitudes.
They never challenged gamey little midgets with foul intent
they had us to pad them safely with money, love and scent.
Dear Rapunzel, do please let your hair down one more time
and play climb out of the cellar and up the apple tree with me.
Signed Your Dearest Play Mate.
Hugs that we once shared, lasted just a glimpse in time
If only I could read her mind, and imagine what I'd find
Would I find a woman of truth, or a woman of trust
Or a woman with a mind, whose mind has turned to rust
To drift into another's world, and promise them the earth
Hugs that we once shared, does it really make them worth
They only lasted a glimpse of time, happened they never should
If I could turn back time, your damn right I would
CAN YOU SPEAK WOMAN?
I can speak French and sometimes Chinese
I can also speak cat with some ease
When he miaows at me as he goes
I mimic his call and he knows
When the dog barks I reply
Even the horse and I see eye to eye
But I can’t speak “woman”
It’s beyond the speech power of a man.
I can’t talk for hours about shoes
And discuss the merits of mauves or blues
Or share the humour of how pink bows
Don’t go with green pillows
And go all weepy over Meryl Streep
Or wax lyrical over some punk-rock creep
Or persuade some guy to discuss flowers
Rather than the size of the nuclear powers
.. . . . so she said. . . . so then I said. . .
And she whispered. . . . and her face went red. . . .
No it’s impossible to spend hours on the phone
I’d rather sit watching football all alone
It’s futile me trying to pretend
An interest in what gift to send
Or remember birthdays wi th accuracy
Such a task would drive me crazy
God save me from female speech
Let me speak “man”, I beseech
Just let me sit alone and grunt
Or maybe shoot, fish, and hunt
And talk to the dog about football facts
Or maybe to the car while I wax.
Cat and Mouse: hide and seek
This could take an hour or week
No one wants to seem too bold
So we put our love on hold
A peek here and a peek there
Wondering if we really dare
Wondering what the seconds bring
Wondering if the phone will ring
Wondering, wondering: peek a boo
You’re hiding…. but I SEE you
I see past that great big wall
Your heart’s ready for the fall
I know that you caught the bait
But I sit and wait and wait
I’m patient, got time of day
But oh, what if you get away!
Cat and mouse: hide and seek
Oh, my knees are getting weak
Oh, this heart’s sure to explode
The waiting’s gone to overload
One more second's just too much
No time for cat games and such
Hide and seek…is getting old
Here I am! My love is bold!
Ready? You'll be caught real tight!
Cause boy, your just out of sight!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
I’m on a planet with a golden kiss
It shimmers with glory, such bliss!
As I zoom in, it turns into a dark land
Peep in, I’m afraid, I cannot stand!
In darkness, I see a bright glowing tower
Inside, a plethora of so called ‘man’ power
Zoom in; I see ‘beast’ kind disguised as ‘man’ kind
Alas! Not a single kind beast could I find
I hear roars of uncivilized beings
And moans of so-called weaklings
I see a trail of emotional turmoil
Those 7 deadly sins wrapped in a dazzling foil
Gifted to humanity, his power, his grey matter
It separates humans from animals and allows us to shatter
The once created planet with a golden kiss
Will it ever show the signs of holy bliss?
The Sundress, As A Marital Aid
By Rick Rucker
Before we begin, I am a “little” weird,
In case you have not “heared,”
When my Lover wears her mini sundress,
Her bare skin, I cannot wait to caress,
Her womanly delights, just out of view,
My lust for her, she does renew!
The enticing expanse of her bare back,
The gossamer-thin fabric accents the curves that she does not lack!
When she has it on, and we are walking,
I am nearly incapable of talking,
As any woman will tell you that you ask,
No man can begin to multitask!
I have on my mind just one thing,
An activity that makes me want to sing!
Walking behind her, I can see,
The sensual goddess in front of me,
Of her, I have no favorite part,
All of her does over-speed my Heart!
As I watch her stroll along,
I am reminded of “Pretty Woman,” the song,
She makes me so proud that I could shout,
Then sing, and dance about!
If other men knew what I have waiting,
When she and I get home, it is me they would be hating!
She has found the secret to a happy life,
This woman whom I have asked to be my wife,
She can do such things to me,
My senses so overloaded, that I can hardly see,
We are lucky that what she does cannot be put in a pill,
Our country’s production would come to a standstill!
Half of our population, would die very soon,
The men would take a bunch of the pills, then swoon!
Luckily, I do not have to take that pill,
I have her next to me to thrill,
I give her a red, red Rose,
She gives me cause to curl my toes!
Removing her sundress is an art,
As I do it, exploring each newly-exposed part!
It must not be done it too fast,
I want this ceremony to last!
In fact, in a day, I may remove it from her several times,
As this really “rings my chimes!”
As I told you, I may be strange,
But this part of the day, I would not change!
If your lover wears a sexy sundress,
She is wearing it for you, I would guess,
Tell her you would be happy to help her take it off,
If you are lucky, your clothes she may help You doff!
If your love life is a little staid,
Help her buy a sundress as a marital aid!
What is this curse when you're ignored
in time you care?
What kind of tempest that might be too much
for a man to bear?
What is the reason; and what is the logic
that one gets hurt?
When he's just showing his true affection
to the one he loves.
When he's expressive that she is cherished
and so adored,
She's not responsive and so implying
that she is bored.
Then he would message to greet her mornings
and to wish her well
She would not answer for a usual reason
that she left her cell.
Would it be too much for her to text back
that she is fine?
Is she afraid that it would surely cost her
Doesn't she know that she's just too lucky
for being loved?
Most girls are crying and are still hoping
for a sincere lad.
What if he's fed-up? the insult is too much
that he departs?
Boy, what a pity if you cannot handle
the irony of a woman's heart..
Date and Time of Writing
November 14, 2011
10:03am – 10:34am
It's a gloomy day and, as usual, manning alone my shop. Customers are not coming in and I was so bored that I was hoping to hear tones from my cellphone as I was waiting for a reply of the message that I sent the last night yet. From there I try to relate to myself on how a lover feels when his messages are ignored by the girl he adored and cherished. Oh what a pity…
THE WOMAN WHO WOULDN'T LISTEN TO HER HUSBAND
She would not think the way he did
How could one be so very bright
Give all her passion to a cause
How could she have such skewered sight
He tried maneuver her with love
He tried to shout a bit and then
He thought he’d slap some sense in her
That’s when she left and said AMEN.