Chocolate Moose Girl
A Sunday brunch one day went me
when she I saw, at table three.
From my mind to forget, never nor maybe.
For on this radiant sunny Sunday afternoon
in the Botanical Garden, my favorite room
sat at a table, grandmother and she.
The walls lined in fragrant ferns of green
baroque blossom ladies in gilded frames seen.
Her simple beauty profile delicate cherry flourish tree.
Now this vision alone, fulfilled my eyesight hunger greatly
when added she did this simple act make.
To her pink full lips a taste took she.
When delicate and slow she lifted
her chocolate moose to mouth she gifted.
From the moose chocolate, I know previous take.
The finest ever no chief could bake,
Satisfying, soft coolness, still lingering in me.
A sublime sexual treat,
then look I did, toward her feet.
When out rolled her toes
from brocade slippers of gold, I see.
Her barefoot toes ached
to reveal her pleasure
with each spoon to lip,
delight, same measure.
My mind to forget, never nor maybe.
There once was a lady named "Mom"
Who had a hard time keeping calm.
But she knows how to sew
And garden and mow
And she's a farmer on facebook.com
She's a grandma to Mel and Harmony
She's a young wife for "Gramps" who's 70!
She calms the waters
Of her four lovely daughters
And best of all she puts up with me.
. Slammed by
A MOTHERS LOVE
Mother always called me a lousy kid, with a shove
I was the only kid she wanted to get rid of
On my head she always smacked me hard.
She would always slam me calling me a retard
My mother gave me the best slamming love.
((( my mother the best slammer there ever was)))
WE ARE THE WORLD
Slam back at any country, at any given event
I feel bad for any so called President.
"WE THE PEOPLE" the Republic and the Democrat.
Slamming each other talking crap.
In a world full of slam and argument.
((( The world toughest fight is slam not war )))
Our teachers kept on and on how we where wrong with a fuzz.
She just stood there and slammed each and everyone of us.
Making us write an essay on broken rules.
Kept us all after school calling us stupid fools
Who knew teachers where allowed to slam and cuss?
((( Teachers words of slam can ruin any future )))
Have you ever heard of a poet blocker.
All they are is a slam stocker
They over abuse their blocking right.
Trying to make other poets fight.
Always trying to slam a point across, like a mocker.
((( Hating against any form of poetry is a slam it self )))
Can you guess that slam is just a risky business
Picking out the best slam words from the rest.
Testing out a form we don't know how to let it flow.
Darn the soup for putting slam on the box below.
Even the best have join my slamming contest.
((( Thank you Soup for SLAMMING us with your A-Z list-form)))
When tired from sweeping with the storebought broom
I'd lean against not wanting to resume
Momma said, "Nusing your bab?"
I would sweep, under breath crab
Now would love to hear her say, "Clean your room!"
(Momma would say nusing not nursing..Bab is instead of baby..)
With only one look it ruptured my spleen
The ugliest creature I've ever seen
You'd know if you ever saw
It's called my mother-in-law
And smells like the gas produced from a bean
I wish I could be a fly on the wall,
When my poor old mother gets the phone call,
“He’s here at the bar
Quick bring us your car,
Your husband just got in a brawl”
Hiding in mummy's tummy, kicking happily away
I'm kissing you warmly, clapping and singing in play
They say in a few weeks
I'll be able to kiss your new cheeks
I can't wait for the morning I'll lift you in a sway
Mama eagle’s dear chickies were ill,
so she told them to lie very still.
“You just wait here for me,”
she said most tenderly.
Then she flew off to get them a pill.
Baby eagles, like most kids, detest,
taking pills. Mom returned to the nest
with dead mice in her bill
which concealed the crushed pill
Doctor Stork had prescribed with good rest!
For John Freeman's
"Pure Thoughts On Nature Poetry Contest"
The old woman in the shoe scandal
who had those kids, too much to handle.
Now that they are full grown
and she is home alone,
she'll down-size to a sandal.
Limericks croisés : Once a Mother Professor and Daughter
for Farid & Zafir
Once (a) Mother Professor and Daughter
Came to Paris to see a Poet Mister
He took them on a lope
From Opera* to Procope*
Till their feet got thicker with blister
He took them to see Doctor Goethe :
Said Devil was shooting thorns from Under
They went to Mephisto*
To calm down their sore toe
« Une belle épine du pied , Mister »
« Vous m’enlevez »,* said learned Mother.
« How can we repay you », said Daughter.
« Not a care, I dare hope,
I’ll take you to Procope. »
The bill for trout, veg-dish and butter
Came to more than what they could then pay.
« Don’t give us this ol’ Napoléon lay !
You’re not wearing Bicorne*! »
« Yes, but for Devil’s thorn ! »
« Leave us your Mephisto shoes or pray ! »
So Mind-Full Poet took them upstair(s)
To prostrate long at Table Voltaire*
Philosopher weighed plea
Said : « This Poet like Me ! »
Mephisto shoes freed from Procope lair !
• Opéra : The National Academy of Music in Paris where ballets are still performed ; opera performances having been moved to the new concert hall in the Place de la Bastille.
• Procope : One of the oldest cafés in Paris, founded in 1686 (and opened in 1689) by a Sicillian whose Frenchified name was « Procope », at 13, rue de la Comédie Française, Paris-75006.
• Mephisto(pheles) : In Goethe’s play : Faust, one of the principal devils. Happens to be a brand name for shoes under the pretexte that it is better to have the Devil under-foot rather than in the boudoir.
• « Vous m’enlevez une belle épine du pied » : French for, according to Collins (bi-lingue) Dictionary : « You have got
me out of a spot. » Literally means : « You have extracted a painful thorn from (the sole of) my foot. »
• Bicorne : two-cornered hat
• Napoléon lay : Napoléon as a young officer is supposed to have left his « bicorne » hat as a pledge for the meals he ate there and could not settle with cash. The hat is displayed in a glass case at the entrance till this day, for the future emperor had far more interesting things to do – like conquering a continent – and could not take the time off to reclaim it.
* Voltaire : The great French philosopher, author of the satirical
novel : Candide, became a Freemason just four months
before his demise. He was a frequent visitor to the Procope,
and his table is still displayed on the first floor of the
café-restaurant at the top of the ornate stairway.
The décor of the place is preserved exactly as it was realised in 1835.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013