Best Fussed Poems
A Turnip and a Cabbage
are walking down the street.
This may seem a might peculiar
as they hadn't any feet.
Before you judge and criticize,
I beg your minds to wander.
To take a moment just to see
on what the herbage ponders.
The Cabbage says, 'The sun is out,
it makes a lovely day.
It is nice to see the other Plants
we meet along the way.'
The Turnip nods approvingly,
the Cabbage is his chum.
For every day they walk this way...
they both begin to hum.
There are no words, no songs they know,
they no not how to sing.
But they cannot miss what they do not know
so no sadness does it bring.
They leave the street and find a trail
leading to a brook.
Where they find a tree, a friend of theirs...
looking at a book.
'What do you have?' The Turnip says
with interest in his voice.
'Something bad, you should not see...
I leave it to your choice.'
Tree hands the book, which Turnip takes
while Cabbage jumps to see.
They flip the pages, both in awe,
they gasp and ask the tree.
'Where did you get this?' Such a story,
we do not believe our eyes.
What Plant would write of such a state?
It surely must be lies.'
The tree responds, 'These sad affairs
happened long ago.
By a species less developed
with little wisdom to bestow.
They were unkind... some cruel and dark,
always out for more.
They hated all... were prone to cheat,
they invented a thing called War.
They fought tooth and nail for shiny objects,
over which they fussed.
Destroyed themselves... their culture gone,
a victim to their lust.'
The Cabbage and the Turnip
let out a cushioned sigh.
But Turnip strains, 'I am still confused.
What does the book imply?'
Tree thinks a bit, 'It was Nature's way
to cleanse our treasured Earth.
To fight disease and cure infection...
saving only things of worth.'
So to those of you who doubt this tale,
forgive my little rant.
But take from this most people lack...
the brains God gave a Plant.
The End
*Follow my cartoon at Webtoon Bob's Your Uncle.
So this, my cat, my confidante, my friend
His bed, empty now, I cannot discard
A photograph now on the mantel’s end
Beside his toy and a sympathy card
How long the wait, in this vast empty space
Till small sounds spare me the notion he’s back
Yet still shall I ready this special place
For friend and casket and polished brass plaque
You say he’s only a cat and he's dead
Still I make space midst old friends on this shelf
What notions strange and cold dwell in your head
When you have no love but that for yourself
Make light of my grieving if that you must
My cat I loved: As for you… not too fussed!
Three men each grew a precious rose
They all had different thoughts
Of how to raise and nurture them
Of the outcomes that they sought.
The first man shirked all effort
Just plunged a hole within the soil
His rose grew, waned then wilted
It suffered from his lack of toil.
The second man possessed great intent
By preparing fertile ground
Purchasing almost everything
Gave his rose all that could be found.
This rose developed entirely spoilt
It flourished better than a weed
Except it too deformed and shrivelled
When he could no longer feed its needs.
Our third man was a pauper
However his heart was like a king
All he had was time and love
But he knew his rose would sing.
He too prepared quite fertile earth
But he never spent a cent
He freed the dirt for solid roots
He knew this rose was heaven sent.
He spent what he could just afford
Although mostly invested time
Talked and fussed and loved his rose
No surprise it grew up really fine
This man finally met his grave
Wilted then died when he grew old
His rose still grows and prospers
It flowers so bright and so bold.
Precious gifts require attention
Only exceptions grow up wild
Treasures need time and care
Imagine each rose could be a child.
A surly old maid
had an urge to be laid
and bemoaned her virginal status
with life discontented
her plight she lamented:
"'tis not easy to live without coitus."
A scheme she invented
got polished and scented
tweaked her pointers to swing more voluptuous
with a rose-scented blanket
and aphrodisiac banquet
whisked her beau to the beach to be fructuous
Clad in scant mini
whence peeked her bikini
bent on bidding her cherry adieu
purred words mildly profane
wined him champagne
dined him fare with venereal value
To hone his libido
entrèed on baked avo
oysters, scallops and honey-glazed almond
lips enticingly luscious
sucked asparagus
sneaked a look if what matters had hardened
As was he, she became cocky:
ogled what was now stocky
with no inhibition she fussed and she flirted
our virgin opened her mouth
with one hand down south
loosened a knot and lay there unskirted
Decidedly heady
her lover was ready
to pick her rosebud unsoiled hitherto
her lush lips he fingered
where he lovingly lingered
to prepare for their kissing debut
With a bolt sat upright
said, his voice somewhat tight:
"Your mouth is a pit of infection.
I swear I was keen
but your mouth lacks hygiene
foul breath made me lose my ********."
A funny thing happened on the way to the john,
I rounded a bend and there sat my young son
Who whined and fussed to be picked up and nursed
So I had to oblige though I quietly cursed.
I continued my quest for some bladder relief
Whilst feeding my baby, supreme mother and chief
When I passed the front door, boob out, zipper down
And there stood our pastor, with an uncomfortable frown.
I tucked and I zipped, then red-faced I said, “Hi.”
He said, “I just stopped for your donated pie.”
Baby under one arm, I retrieved the said pie
And proudly returned with baked good held up high.
But the baby was squirmy and sun in my eyes
So I tripped on the dog, who is almost my size
And that’s when I found out that cherry pie flies
Right into the face of the good Reverend Wise.
Which was not a bad thing, and I do not jest
Because my little boy had pulled out my breast!
And my bladder gave up, the poor little fellow,
As I landed and sat in a puddle of yellow!
So I never did make it to the bathroom that trip
And I had to make up to our poor puppy Skip.
My son, just like always, got his milk and his way
And my husband and I became Jewish that day!
Barbed wire seems a 'thorny' subject on which to opine,
But there arose a need for such for people and beasts to confine!
Cowpokes cussed as they worked with it mutilating their hands.
Sheepherders fussed with cattlemen as it spread across their lands!
'Tis said back in 1874 Joseph Glidden, who 'bristled' with the idea,
Was awarded a patent for barbed wire to provide a cure-all panacea!
Split-rail fencing to outline boundaries was rapidly becoming passe',
To keep neighbors' straying goats, horses and other critters at bay!
Sheriffs found barbed wire handy to enforce a judge's firm dictates,
To confine hoss thieves, cattle rustlers and other such reprobates!
Inmates trying to scamper through the wire were apt to rip their pants,
Or worse, might end up in 'boot hill', caught trying to scale the fence!
Alas, sinister uses for barbed wire were found beyond bucolic meadowlands.
'Twas used to enslave thousands of innocent souls behind its menacing strands.
Thousands of men, women and children were consigned to death at Dachau,
Triblinka, Buchenwald, Ravensbruck and Auschwitz-Birkenau.
Among its many other diverse uses it has even marched off to wars,
To protect gallant American soldiers on far too many alien shores.
Mister Joseph Glidden was doing mankind a great favor, he thought.
Were he alive today he might say, "My gawd, what hath I wrought!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
It’s all of three feet long, in order it is not,
And then there’s all the other stuff she’s probably forgot,
The first thing on the list, it simply just says, ‘beans’,
Is that broad beans, baked beans, whatever does she mean?
Next is the marmalade, there’s a hundred in the store,
And if I get it wrong she’ll say, ‘it’s the one I had before!!’
There goes another ping, it’s the fifth message to date,
‘Don’t forget the milk’ it reads, ‘if you can accommodate?’
Next it is the bread - brown and white and crust,
With a helpful little note saying, ‘the thickness I’m not fussed!’
But the note that takes the biscuit states, ‘get something for tea!’
Now is that for the both of us or possibly just me?
Course the final item on the list takes me back to the first aisle,
It’s another lengthy trip, so far I’ve clocked a mile.
I reach the checkout desk and there goes another ping,
It says ‘tomato sauce, oxo cubes and a pack of chicken wings.’
The checkout girl senses, my frustration and dismay,
By honestly enquiring, if I’m having a good day,
But I look at all the stuff she is bleeping at the till
And wonder how, with three bags, I’ll ever fit it in!
At home comes the inquest of each item I have bought,
And all items not listed, I’m well and truly caught!
The marmalade is wrong, the butter isn’t light,
But think I’ve done quite well as it’s fifty percent right!
I had to find a bathroom,
A reasonable request,
I was all alone
And my bladder was quite stressed.
So I asked a man nearby,
“Do you know where a bathroom is?”
He merely shook his head,
And went about his biz.
I continued walking,
And sure enough around,
A woman with her children
Could tell me where a bathroom’s found.
She said, “I have no idea,
I’m busy you can tell.”
She fussed to shush her baby,
Who had just begun to yell.
I continued on my quest,
Moving with rapid stride,
When I found a large restaurant,
Surely, there must be a bathroom inside!
I went up to the waiter,
I said, “I really have to pee.”
Slightly irritated,
I decided to forego all pleasantry.
He said, “Oh, ours isn’t working,
Someone clogged it the day before,
But there is one a few blocks down,
About three or four.”
And so I hurried along,
Quite desperate to find the joint,
My bladder was close to reaching
Its natural breaking point.
I reached a tiny gas station,
Where the clerk mumbled to me,
“We do have an outside bathroom,
But someone lost the key.”
I turned and stomped outside,
I wailed out vehemently,
“How hard is it to find a bathroom
In modern society?”
A gentleman heard my plight,
And said, “You know, there’s a store—“
I interrupted, “Never mind,
I don’t have to go anymore.”
Balanced and perfect!
Always standing up for me.
Teaching me manners. Oh, how I fussed!!
Having French braids every summer.
My shorts and tops had to match.
Teaching me to be proud to be and say, I was American
Reading poetry to me, when I was so verynyoung.
And teaching me words to songs.
You took me to top restaurants, not left at home.
You made sure I was in the best schools.
All the time we spent at the ballet dressmaker!
My eighth grade graduation at the Edgewater Beach Hotel.
Huge windows that faced Lake Michigan,so very tall.
Thank you for a suburban,,beautiful home.
You were a Mom, I was so proud of.
Loving to all, friendly, full of laughter!
At every event, you, most stunning woman in the crowd.
What a gift to me and to my daughter!
A source of pride and love, like no other!
We all love and miss you, Mom
~~~Your birthday, May 12th~~~
4/27/2021
Three weeks into lockdown, we're still in one piece,
the house is now looking pristine,
we've dusted and shined every surface we see
now only the air left to clean.
We've searched every cranny, we've looked high and low
but still there's no sign of our Puss,
I think that last night she decided to go,
got fed up with being over-fussed.
The missus each day in her favourite pyjamas,
and slippers, just wanders about,
but when she turns round, well, it really alarms us,
there's a hole,and her bum's hanging out.
We've tried to eat healthily, bought the right stuff,
organic, and calorie free,
but now it's got boring, and I'm feeling rough
so it's baked beans on pizza for me.
A real ale delivery is next on the cards,
it's top of the list on our plans,
don't know where to put it, there's nowhere to go
since the larder is full of beer cans.
At least we're all civil, no rows or profanity,
for three weeks now we've all been stuck,
I'm off to the shops,now, quite proud of my sanity
with mask on, and dressed as a duck.
And...I ponder
Do people even care about me? Sadly, I can't see...
Sucks being bipolar,
Having episodes of madness, sadness and ecstasy...
I am numb
I can't feel anymore
I am dumb,
Wisdom out the door...
Change is a challenging chore...
I need some satisfaction
Not this...anger sensation
Action takes its time some more...
Seeing others' succeed
While I remain this weed
That sucks the life of you
I'm sorry I cussed and fussed endless
Because of what you do
You seem to smile away your sadness
I wear the mask of plastic gladness
You don't see or care about my distress
Maybe, I'm acting selfish...actually, I was
Attempting to be selfless is trust with flaws
I'm bewildered because I have become
Ignorant and blissful like many these days...these days...
Wrapped up in bed, worthless like a crumb
I'm not looking for attention in this frustration maze
I bet no one will read this..or would scroll away in inner success rays
Hear me out beyond the pained and hopeless...we all need beloved praise
Time is not by our side, only God and Christ is quite frankly
I had enough alone time, I need to belong a wee bit actually
Energy is low and under the weather
Fever above a hundred, now cooled off
Don't feel sorry for me whatsoever
These hot and cold flashes and what not is enough!
"When I saw you I fell in love, and you smiled
because you knew" Shakespeare
_________________________
After the prom my date took me to a diner,
we were still wearing our formal wear;
oh, I felt so grown up and pretty,
our faces glowed with love and happiness.
I was so excited that I trembled for I was,
on my first date;
and my new love looked so proud he was bursting.
Proudly I let the soda jerk smell my corsage,
I will never take it off no matter what;
and I pause often to sniff the scent of the flower given,
on my first date.
A man beside us watches with a smirk and a smile,
and my love sweetly holds my pink sweater and gloves.
I will never ever forget this magical evening,
and never imagined anything could feel so wonderful;
mother had fussed with my dress and hair,
she wanted me to look perfect and beautiful;
on my first date.
I felt like a princess dancing at the prom over and over,
and after a slow walk home- a tentative first kiss.
____________________________________
October 2, 2019
Poetry/Narrative/On My First Date
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1185-725-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Realism Art
sponsor, Eve Roper, Inspiration #1
First Place
Dragon was watching the nature channel, and decided that…
Communing with nature, is where, IT must really… be at!
He wanted to know: What nature is. What part is he? Is he more than that?
You’d think he’d start at home, but NO! He went to the park, of course!
The park with it’s mowed lawns, and yes, where the pigeons are, in force!
He ran to an elderly man, feeding pigeons, from a bag, on a bench, of course.
The answer: we’re all part of nature, just nature prime, cause we’re smarter.
Each one’s unique, walk in others shoes, and the answers are there to garner.
Either, he didn't know the trouble he’d stir, or wanted a new story this week.
I glimpsed a paparazzi camera, partially concealed, that he did quickly seek.
Dragon immediately chose the pigeons, and I knew this wouldn't be good.
Especially, when a wild pack of paparazzi suddenly and very quickly stood.
He picked pigeons, cause they fly like him and are slow at getting away.
Plus he’s banned from the Nature Area, after his flames burned it one day.
First he followed the pigeons and checked out everything they did eat.
He wasn't too impressed as breadcrumbs and birdseed were their treats.
Then they flew to the 5-tiered fountain for a splash and feather bath, today.
But they had to leave when Dragon joined them, toppling it clear away.
The commotion took them to tree limbs, that broke under Dragons’ weight.
The park benches fared much better, as they toppled backwards, I must say.
The bronze statue looked more hopeful, till the Park Sheriff came his way.
The Sheriff of Crazyland fussed and shouted, till they all flew quickly off.
But now, Dragon had perfected the pigeon technique: of drop a load and fly.
It as a shame the Sheriff of Crazyland, was waving and shouting so close by.
Gee! I never knew, that the Sheriff could blow steam, like our Dragon can.
Tho, apparently, Dragons’ is much hotter as the statue arm, melted and ran.
But Dragon complimented him on his steam anyway, as he deftly flew away.
I just stood there and shook my head… as there was going to be heck to pay!
Now… you know why the Sheriff and Dragon simply will never get along.
For the Sheriff has now made it possible for Dragon to commune with...
‘The New Leash Law’.
If I Could Have Gotten Your Embryo
Before You Were Born
I Would Have Sheltered You Safely
and Protected Your Form ...
I'd Have Put You In My Womb
& Flowed You Knowledge Like In A Tubric
& Patted My Expanding Belly
As I Played You Music
And As You Got Ready
To Arrive From The Birth Canal
You Would've Known My Breasts
Would Be Ringing Like Welcome Bells! ...
Eager To Suckle You
Breast Feed My Own Flesh & Nourish
So You Could Grow Strong
... In Love's Encourage
I Would've Held You In Wonder
& So Close Tenderly
Amazed At This Little Bundle,
Breathing, Piece of Me ...
And When You Turned One
Or As You Sucked Your Thumb
Or Eating Baby Food Jars of Plums
... I'd Have Given You Trumpets & Drums
... And Building Alphabet Blocks
& Superman Capes
& Stuffed Teddy Bears
& Oatmeal Cookies & Grapes
I'd Have Read You Stories
From Capt. Adventure Books
You'd Have Known You Were Loved
By My Proud Mama Looks
I'd Have Spent Time With You
Showing You How To Tie Your Shoe
Rocked You If You Caught The Flu
or Any Sniffles You Went Through ...
I Would Have Played With You
& Prayed With You
From Crawling To Walking
Paved The Way For You
Yeah, I Would Have Fussed At You
& When Needed Even Spanked You Too
& I'd Meant: This Hurts Me More Than You
'Cause You're The Little Symbiot, Mama Grew
So, You Would Have Known
You Were Loved & Treasured
You Would Have Known
Your Worth Couldn't Be Measured
Nor Compared To Anyone Else
At Any Point In Time
'Cause You Are The Best
Because You Were "Mine"
* * * * * * *
But I Never Knew You
But Believe Me If I Had ...
I'd A Made Sure You Had
A Loving Mom & Dad
And You Would've Never Been Abused
Or Treated Bad ...
But From Now On Find Your Joy
To Replace What's Sad
Written & Copyrighted ©: 9/12/2013
by: MoonBee Canady
Temporary InSlamity
Two a.m , still awake, gettin’ leg-shakes
Gaggin’, burnin’ on my mis-slam-stakes
Tryin’ to win some judge judy’s hot damn
Thank-you-ma’am for hosting this con-slam-test
As I sling slam sludge like hogs in a hookup ham-fest
Just a small-time soul slammin’ junkie motha
Hopin’ this funky slam betta than at least one otha!
Didn’t know when I started tho…
Twenty-five crappy lines could sentence me
To prison time for petty poetic crimes bro... or should I say brotha….
Cause this fussed-over cussed-over rhymin’ over-doses
Ain’t no Gun and Roses, hell it ain’t even close-es
More like prosetry psychosis
Induced by late-night deep hypnosis
Where am I??? maaannnn.. time to be poppin’ some more no-sleep no-dozes
Hope the Judge J. rules summarily
That I suffered temporary in-slam-ity illiterarily
Or had an unnecessary ca-slam-ity vocabularily
And no matter which way judge rolls, just so she knows
I didn’t write this slam ma’am… this slam is writing me (very eerily…)
So Judge Judy of poetic tort, appealing to your phoenetic court
Don’t abort this sham of a slam to the sordid slammer
Order it posted where it can be toasted on glam slam site Instagrammar
Cause tryin’ me, fryin’ me over crimey slammism
Means death of ode age in poetical prison…
© 2014 all rights reserved