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Best Hen Pecked Poems | Poetry

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The Best Hen Pecked Poems

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Counting Sheep

Oh fine little sheep
why must you bleat?
When your manger’s piled high
with strands of wheat.  

Think you of the cock
hen pecked by his flock
who must awaken at dawn
to crow from the rocks.

Or the cattle that lo
in their pastures of snow
Could use your fleece coat
when the icy winds blow.

And the pigs in their sty
should  borrow your cry
For their mud saddled backs
must itch as they dry.

But I know why you weep
oh wise little sheep
For you count off the days
‘til your wool they will reap.

Copyright © Michelle Mac Donald | Year Posted 2012

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Lennie and Half Acre

Lennie was a Hen-pecked pastry baker
Who told His wife He might forsake Her.
She nagged and was grossly obese.
He wanted it to quickly cease.
Whereupon He frosted Her Half-acre.

Copyright © Paul Schneiter | Year Posted 2015

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Red Sky over Cairo

A lifetime of waiting, stacks of National
Geographic half as tall as me, piled on
every step. A girl with nothing to do but dream.

The yellow-black jackets buzzed, I flowered
as I turned the pages. The relics of Tutankhamun
fascinated: gold, turquoise, lapis and the slaves
in mud-brick houses they live in still.

I longed to be the Pharaoh’s daughter;
I kohled my eyes.

Egypt called to me. Pyramids, deserts baking,
heat mirages, and oases of palms with still blue water.

The twenty-first century’s reality is far different.
Cairo teems with discontent, Mubarak’s campaign
posters hung from each lamppost.
Two weeks before the Arab Spring, I was there.
The only safety found behind the gun-guarded,
razor-wired gates of the upper class, and even then—

A country espousing religious freedom was killing
Coptic Christians in the streets, and bombing churches.
Cairo’s one poster child synagogue stood empty,
except for tourists—dark, decorative, haunting,
full of tales of Christ’s sojourn in Egypt?

The pyramids rose hen-pecked by pollution
through a surreal orange sky. Masked women
walk the male dominated streets. Women
live in fear in or out of the hijab.

The majesty of yesteryear, the pyramid of Giza
squats like a discard in the ashtray of desert.
Vendors and tourist litter the site.
Baksheesh is the only God in Egypt,
baksheesh and the horded water of the Nile.

First Published in here & there magazine
in the UK

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2016

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Strange Definitions

DECADENT = ten teeth CONFUSION = against melting with intensity DEDICATION = a vacation in the afterlife PURPOSE = Kitten posing while purring INFORMATION = soldiers on parade DELETED = Getting rid of Ted FEATURED = An adventure about walking barefoot SYLLABLE = Funny antics of a bull CLASSICAL = A student eating a popsicle in class MORNING = A lot more ning PREVENTING = Before letting out air PERPETUATE = Average for each pet you ate ASSOCIATED = Your bum has social skills BEAUTIFUL = Beauty filled to the top REPRESENTED = Announce Ted is present again PARTICIPATE = Average part in your hair CONSISTING = Against your sister's hurtful remarks WEAPONS = Small chess pieces DEPARTMENT = Leaving your apartment SENTENCE = Uptight delivery PUBLISHING = Getting drunk in a bar THOUSAND = Your beach CANTALOUPE = Unable to run away and get married IMPORTANCE = Buying ants from another country DEFINITIONS = Hard of hearing finitions EXPECTED = Ted who used to be hen pecked GOVERNMENT = Vote for Vern election ad POPULAR = Dad's favourite pew at church © Jack Ellison 2014

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2014

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The Hen-pecked Husband

"The Hen-pecked Husband" By M. Taha Effendi (Light Poetry) The door bell rang yet again, and yonder heard the distinct voice, of my dear old wife, full of pain, drowned all my dreams of rejoice. then came the thundering slap, that landed on my cheek now red, and as I panicked out of my nap, I realized I had wet my bed.

Copyright © Mohammad Taha Effendi | Year Posted 2010

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The Good Old Boy

Men who like men join a gentleman's club
Hen-pecked husbands play rub-a-dub-dub
Men who like food go straight to the grub
So all the rest of us head for the pub

All Blacks enjoy squeezing pigskin
Yanks love their beer, the British their gin
The ladies prefer champagne Micky Finn
Sipped under a table at Peckers Inn

The morning after should never exist
But good times are rare and not to be missed
I seem to recall a kiss and a tryst
But all said and done, DAMN!  Was I pissed!

Copyright © Rico Leffanta | Year Posted 2017

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Another Loss By Hillary

Another Loss By Hillary

 A lot of people are upset about Hillary's loss. 
Politics should be kept out off of FaceBook just like out of church. 
I am really worried about Trump. Staff he is choosing are a bunch of has beens. Stock market is already being affected. We are headed for some hard times.
The Bradley Effect and Closet voters highly affected the election.  They either told people that they would vote one way but voted another or they came out of the closet, voted, and returned back.
Many women gave into their husbands and went ahead and voted their way just to get them off of their backs. Guess you could call it being hen-pecked. What is going to happen when Trump has to go on trial in the cases of the 12 women abused? I had already heard long ago how Trump U
had taken advantage of people. 
Once in office Trump will have to expose his tax return. All other previous Presidents did this. His return is not going to be audited forever. Actually, the only one being audited is the current one and he could have released all previous ones. You can actually go on line and see the income tax returns of all past Presidents. 
Comey will be under a Congressional investigation as to why he did what he did and when he did it. He broke the Hatch Act which I know about having been a Federal employee. What would have been really interesting is if Trump would have run as a Democrat and Hillary as a Republican. 
Trump wasn't really elected. The representative of the Republican Party was elected no matter who it had been. Qualities, experience and education should be prerequisites not party affiliation. 
What amazed me is the higher your education and more satisfied you are, the more likely you were to vote for Hillary. The lower your education level was and less satisfied you were with the way things are the more likely you were to vote for Trump. The more open your mind was the more likely you were to vote for Hillary as opposed to less likely voting for Trump. 
Often it is better to be safe than sorry. We may end up being sorry but I hope not.

Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2016

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Name Footles

A Cat's that's Bullied

Pussy ;)

Farm Animals that Enjoy the Classics


A Corn Farmer with Turn off Jokes and Turn on Passion


A Humorous Song


The Fastest "Gun" in the West

Dickie ;)

Monica's L's nickname for the President


My Belly Dance MODE

Jiggle ( got to see it! ;)

So...As the story goes...Poor Wussy Pussy hen-pecked by Dicken's Chickens 
went to Farmer Corny Horny for help, but he was busy laughing at his witty 
ditty about Quickie Dickie and Willy Billy who were staring at my wiggle 
jiggle...THE END!

Eileen Manassian

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014

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Feathered in fire,
a blood heat of
red stolen coals
under your wing;
soles calloused by
the mountain road
long as loneliness;
step after hot step
chicken-foot lurch
home - what home?
frigid nest of stones.

Come chill moon-fall
you will be pecked
half-way to a death
by the beak of love,
feathered in a grin.

Copyright © Chris Nash | Year Posted 2015

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A bend in the river

The serpentine and ageless liquid
   mercurial possessed snake
eternally swallowed 
   since the beginning of time
   one unquenchable thirst to gorge and slake
slurping up an icy cold mountainous pebbly shake
   yet fresh as an irish spring 
   using thy tongue o gaelic spake

   then tumbling down into the cavernous abyss
   subsequently carving 
   a deep criss cross patchwork 
   across the rock hard rugged topography
   like the handiwork of some invincible force

   commandeering a humungous rake
affixing legendary signature 
   quasi-indelible grooves
   only for the near indomitable 
   chiseled masterpiece
   to be erased, twisted then wrenched

   by that natural landscape altering phenomena 
   identified as an earth quake
creating a fresh tabula rasa to begin anew
   inviting waters from on high to carve
   from the ebbing and flowing millennial currents 
   which eventually find a more direct course 
   beginning as trickling creek 

   swells from winter rains
   and thence in summer while the sun doth bake
   when flora blooms and fauna prance
the firmament  then abandons 
   bent elbow oxbow lake
as a former bend in the river.

frum - thhis hen pecked bantam 
   which spouse will never hush
and let me concentrate at some endeavor
   but please DO NOT consider me a lush
nor believe this mainline/ lower merion resident lives plush
for his values quite out of sync with majority in a rush
to chase the ole might buck
   if quiet, you can hear the whoosh!

Copyright © MATTHEW harris | Year Posted 2017

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I Would Often Wonder

Many Times I would often wonder
Why there is turbulence and thunder
Big waves which around will whirl
And tornadoes which seem to swirl.

Weather to me always does amaze
Do you think it is a form of praise
Which we offer to God we love
Even from below or else up above.

Avalanches at times also will occur
And people can create quite a stir
Disturbance followed by a commotion
Especially with my shaving lotion.

I presume all women with their perfume
Knows that overhead our doom does loom
Women by God were the ones manifested
To upset things men should have digested.

Women and weather we must put up with
And someone once asked was it a myth
A man on a ship may have been decked
When he told his wife he was hen pecked.

James Thomas Horn

Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2014

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The Rooster Leads the Hens

The Rooster Leads the Hens

By Elton Camp

Way back in history, to time untold
It’s males who have always controlled

To take the lead, most hens don’t care
Rooster leads them from here to there

Talk of gender equality is just fluff
For the hens never believe such stuff

When the going is dangerous or rough
The males alone are sufficiently tough

The hens deal with hatching white & brown
You won’t see the lordly rooster sitting down

The hens scratch a living from the ground
Move for him to eat when he come around

Human males his tricks should come to know
They too could learn how to strut and crow

Maybe find that not to be a hen-pecked fool
He must show from the start he means to rule

Copyright © Elton Camp | Year Posted 2012

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Either Peace Monger or Dissident

Either Peace Monger or Dissident

My poems actually apply their own ammunition
At the same provide personal all competition
And adequately replacing need for any test
Already knowing mine are always the best. 
(Notice accentuation of letter "A" for BEST.)

Subject each day should be current affairs
Standing out not having to dig through layers
Maybe bus, plane or perhaps train that wrecked
Politicians by wives who have become hen-pecked.

Now that my brain I have completely wracked 
Wise jokes and comments constantly cracked
Need I with my poems have to further explain
Difference between drop in bucket and down drain.

Those are Bernie's plans I recently read about
Likelihood of happening there is much doubt
And if President wherever he would have went
They would call him peace monger and a dissident.

Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2016

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Still Can Hear It

Still Can Hear It

Youthful body had been so sleek and young
And some say that she was always among
The loveliest ladies which were to be seen
Even though she still was only just a teen.

She was becoming and beautiful at a ball
Danced smoothly although appearing tall
With a frivolous face seeming to shine;
To see her, men stood for hours in line.

One day handsome husband she would meet,
And completely knocked him off of both feet
And when the two finally had hit the ground
He ended up being completely spell bound.

He could tell it was love at very first sight
Danced with her throughout whole night
Future husband discovered ruling rapture;
Was beautiful bride who him did capture. 

Long love lasted forever and another day;
Fine life was full of fun with not any dismay;
In heaven we presume is her precious spirit;
Him back here hen-pecked and still can hear it.

C'mon!!! Laugh a little.

James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran

Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2015

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Old Pattie just cannot stop talking Voice grates like a mallard duck squawking Can't you just be quiet ? For once you should try it Her hen pecked husband left walking! Written after we went out tonight - this woman would not shut up and in the end her hubby just walked out of the room 6/10/18

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2018

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Chinwag Pies

Chinwag Pies 

A crowd gathers
Where the poor run wild, 
Relentlessly taunting 
An innocent child, 
Scathing, scalding 
Thieving eyes, 
Scrimping, scraping 
Chinwag pies. 

Two a penny 
For those that beg, 
A clip round the ear 
For your gammy leg,
Gossiping mothers 
Cannot abide 
The bastard child 
Of the old dockside. 

"Hello sailor, 
Empty your pocket,
Got me shilling 
For me golden locket?"
Ne're-do-well harlot, 
Talk of the town, 
Don't belong round here 
In her five bob gown. 

"What about me boy? 
An urchin for sure, 
Spare him the price
Of being poor"
Toss him a penny, 
Toss him a pound, 
We don't want his sort 
Skulking around, 

Shove him this way, 
Shove him that, 
Shove him in a coffin 
With his begging hat.
The crowd disperses
Back to their lives 
Of hen pecked husbands 
And drunken wives.

Suburban gardens, 
Plastic flowers, 
Hair in curlers, 
Nattering for hours, 
Over the fence 
Spinning their lies 
With folded arms 
And chinwag pies. 

Copyright © Robert Horton | Year Posted 2015

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Shana Aubrey Harris - part two

a boon against strife 
wool worth effort and propensity 
to revel qua biological miracle re: said offspring 
did inadvertently teach me lessons of life 

to cherish and savor each giggle, laughter and smile 
amidst cramped apartment plus feeling 
discombobulated frustration bubbling rife 
introducing yours truly 
to tha hen pecked moody blue wife.

pockmarks can vouchsafe this un beak able trait
from spouse, who need not be lambasted 
on account of increased weight. 

Like a human bobbing sponge youngest progeny 
absorbed auditory/ visual multitude 
within each axon and neuron of that infantile sensory 
“sir” kit board aware at a tender young age 
how she struggled to string words together 
to convey a mood 

predilection with language impediment 
possibly passed thru umbilical rip cord. 
No idea thru combination of genetics and biology 
that burnished beautiful lass oof an offspring 
wrought a smart girl, an apple of the eye 
per this father who never thought 
thru attempts at conception sought

supremely melded genes, he thought 
loves labors last, t’would come 
to naught delivered us an artistic, 
intrinsic, linguistic lass 
who for no price can be bought
though someday, a young lad will take a fancy 
(as ought to be the path of biology)
and hoop fully brings ye happiness 
for your remaining lifetime
with a numeral 
(following a number from one to nine) 
with many an aught! 



Copyright © MATTHEW harris | Year Posted 2017

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a brushstroke choreographing dramatic elegy framing harmonic gavotte all up yesterday

   great mind over matter to set brainy bedlam 
   in an organized queue
so while attention of your 
   might be moderately rapt, this rue
stirring, hen pecked spouse 

   best stop digitally squawking sew
the ethereal essence can beak comb 
   brought to cypher awareness too
and in a figurative nutshell, 

   when doth a scrivener know when to quit
   or tubby pointed rhetorical question -
   at what juncture does any artisan
   more prolific than yours truly 
   reckon that his/her faux masterpiece 

   can no longer be perfected?, 
   cuz further rit
dick kuel us tampering, potche ing, footsing, 
   would induce dedicated followers of mine 
   to undergo severe urge to wanna spit

or throw FAKE nipples, 
   subsequently they would feel tit
till late head, find this schlemiel 
   to end this plotz to whit!


Copyright © MATTHEW harris | Year Posted 2017

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Watching the HenHouse

Once upon Trump time,
totally uncaged hens
and black
and even white
and all things in-between
prepared to vote for more green climate health
growing indoor/outdoor good-egg chicken family values
planning to optimize healthy wealth
green ecoschool henhouse natural-spiritual remodeling
for deep and richly wide learning
to bilaterally listen
before and after
cooperatively speaking,
especially when rewriting history
and transubstantiating sacramental scripture,
outer henifestations
of inner RealTime felt organic experiences.

there were two candidates,
and possibly more,
to facilitate their Future Search
work that reconnects Past
health to wealth
ego/eco abundance
non-violently practicing inside/outside egg nurturing values
for at least the next SevenGenerations.

One was an aging unprivileged GreenHen
some saw as having lost touch
with their own non-elected
hen peck-ordered around
and bullied lives
of single
and competing brown and black and white hungry hens
thirsting for more and better fast food
and sweetgrass water
and organic soil
with lots of grubs for snacks.

The other candidate was the Fox,
who was,
not surprisingly, supported and endorsed,
occasionally worshiped,
by FoxNews
and other ego-privileged natural evolution competitors
hoarding fried chicken assets
even though that cost
less hens available for future Fox generations
of consumers and producers.

The Fox
promised his own egocentric watch
to overlord the HenHouse
promising to eat all alien hens,
outside our protagonists' organic health-planning walls,
first, for breakfast,
then clear out the unprivileged hen-pecked
sinful chickens, preferably plump and robust, for lunch,
and their annoying little chicks too,

And DJ Fox merely smiled
and twittered
and "We'll see" threatened and bullied
in nonresponse to Mainstream Media questions
about who is fair-game left, or even right,
for his health-wealthy Fox dinner
in dark failing future FoxDen
of mendacity.

Who do you think the chickens chose
to co-facilitate their plans to live happily,
even actively democratic,
and healthy climate
ever non-violently after
lack of BadNews terror and drama history?

I can't terrify you
with which candidate
became this henhouse anti-facilitator
against an EcoVillage Future Search
for Work and Play That Reconnects
chickens messing with foxes
and Foxes WinWin playing with powerful OrganiChickens,
but I can give you a finger-licken hint

The youngest chicks for health care receiving
and giving happy peeps in return
were not allowed to peep-vote,
nor was the slightest peep even listened to
about disabled sky is falling alarms
of annoying prescient consciousness
feeling fatally overpopulated Fox privileged climates
meant HenHouse future pathology

When Foxes are left to watch
and despotically rule
and do all the fast fried food 
Foxy ChickenBusiness As Mendaciously Usual 
it's hard to conclude
all HenHouses lived happily
or even quasi-cooperatively
ever timeless after.

At best 
difficult to predict climate health
indoor and outdoor
while ignoring the thirsty peeps
of depressed
suppressed Earth PolyPathic Chicks
still in daily HereNow polyphonic love
with cooperatively-owned
Ego/Eco HealthWealth School.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2018

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(Jamie Brolin)
Plush, velour folds tied
In velvet rope;
Lace-toile flowing,
Fringed in gold-leaf;
Canvas draping, fluttering,
Tragic vision and comic relief:
Behind the curtain!

Attic Greece always smelled defeat,
Hounding at its heels;
Above the agora,
During wild, pagan feasts,
The people meet astride the Acropolis,
Before Bacchanalian meals:
Enter into an entanglement,
Mortally tense,
Only to resolve,
All from the comfort
Of their very own seat!
And so the Polis coalesces,
Communally, cathartically, healed.

On the Continental side
Of the Channel Sleeve,
In the late, seventeenth century,
France’s greatest poet of the drama,
Who in his own measure
Of make-believe,
Actors hung on the rules, the lines, the metrics,
While the audience
On the pleasure 
Of Antique panoramas;
In service to the King,
He held the French Court’s prestige,

‘Es de Lope (de Vega)’means still today
In Spain: ‘the best’, de rigueur;
His works played on make-shift stage
In Madrilene street alley-ways;
Outrageously popular events:
The hilarity of flawed, 
Familiar figures;
The theater-going public passes the hat,
In patronizing rally,
Golden-Age optimism
And Counter-Reformation revision
Held the Spanish transfigured,

Modernity’s greatest dramaturge,
And the Bard so says,
“The whole world’s a stage;”
And too, the Great Fire of London,
In total conflagration,
Purged the Bubonic plague!

Lo and behold: a motif!
In varying shades of complexity
And beauty,
There has always been a theater
Of the hen-pecked
And unruly!
Who beat whom to the final knock-out?
In the bickering puppeteering
Of ‘Punch and Judy’!

Plush, velour folds tied
In velvet rope;
Lace-toile flowing,
Fringed in gold-leaf;
Canvas draping, fluttering,
Tragic vision and comic relief:
Behind the curtain!
(12 September 2018)

Copyright © jamie brolin | Year Posted 2018

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Winter's NewMoon Womb

Our first learning experience
of Earth as home
is in our perfectly uniting warm womb,
specifically designed for growing Constitutional Welfare,
healthy development care receiving,
then giving back,
paying forward,
in future sacred wombed learning experiences.

After birth from this matriarchal-bonded and binding body,
we experience Earth as free range outside habitat
with internal shelters of our design.

Secondary ZeroZone security wombs
protecting us from Earth's colder
and hotter,
too wet
and too parching,
windy and punishing
retributional wilderness;

Retributive weed-pulling
and painful birthing
and mosquito slapping
retributions for becoming born not yet fully divine-humane,
one might Win some Lose some suppose,
quietly among our hen-pecked selves.

In original EarthMother anti-bullying wombs
we listen and learn
more sacred phylogenic WinWin creation stories.

In virginal MotherEarth habitats of grace
we listen and learn
divinely humane photogenic 
and cosmologically fragrant creation stories;
God and Man and WoMan
creolizing each other in-between
polyphonic integrity ways,
truths of and for democratic trust enrichment,
lives delineating and realigning notnot evil.

In domesticating EarthSoul shelters and schools,
churches and mosques and temples, 
courtrooms and natural law forests
and ordered surfing tidal oceans
and radiant light purging deserts,
dominating ultra-violet mountains 
and recessive non-violent valleys,
we remain invited to learn from Wise MotherElders
our best and brightest anthrogentric ethological re-creations,
regenerations of AnimaMundi nurturing,
resonant harmonic Gaian Creation Songs and Dances,
plantings and harvests,
birthings and anthro-eccentric butcherings
just for the just holy punishing war of it all.

Too much Yang mighty mountains
and too deeply recessed,
virgin Yin valleys,
bilateral YinYin longing
to ecoflow 
co-arising karmic creolizing grace.

Yang stars
and WinWin waves of spiraling stardust,
still within inhabitable EarthSoul wombs
yet increasingly without healthy-wealth shelter.

Primal DNA learning experience
of EarthSoul as home,
more perfectly uniting warm womb,
specifically designed for growing DNA-Constitutional Welfare,
healthy development care receiving,
then giving back therapeutic learning experiences;
apparently our Original-RNA, 
lavishly democratic,
Constitutional Intent.

If not RNA-scripted plants,
then no DNA-scriptured plant eaters.
It's not nice to eat the midway economic nutritional hand
that ecologically fed and bred us
for positive cooperative health
over negative ecopolitical pathology.

It's like biting the Original AnimaMundi Womb
that past karma graced us.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2017

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Circa January 2010 Bell Tower And Carillon

Twittered Via Chilled Wren
At Valley Forge, Pennsylvania

Prior carte blanche to confessing illicit
     extra-marital affair
I embolden tomb ache
     elicit, and baldly bare
faced laid out some
     of the sordid details clear
embarrassed at one escapade
     in particular constituting dear

peppy's questing randy romping caper
     necessitating vigilance 'ere
a park ranger, (or other unsuspecting
     winter weather way
     Farer attired in gear
adequately bundled
     cold as a witch's tit
     seasoned trooper) 
     reluctantly repeated here

(unforgettable if only be
     cause this "FAKE" Casanova ace
thee Missus i.e.wife)
     did conversationally chase
beseeched, hen pecked,
     and implored me NOT to erase
boot to recount with (itty bitty)
     Monty Python glory, a straight face,
that one particular amazingly grace

obviously penned up, 
     and not in the write
mind (pre poetry daze),
     which scurrilous anecdote
     did (and still does) in vite

guffawing, sans
     peculiar public philandering,
     with atavistic cave man
     designs tried to unite
where daunting phallus spite

confronting Arctic Vortex when right
lee let loose from pants
     froze like a little popsicle quite
purposely remained flaccid

     leaving me in a penile plight
when trying to hump
     (standing up like a good Knight
comically ridiculous travesty)
     With Barbara B****, light
of adventurous Green Beret spirit, the
     Unabashed MILF about average height
fifty years, whose busty bosom

     silicone breast implants
     tell tale viz radiation
     and chemo therapy fight
(resulting from post
     Ductal Carcinoma in situ)
needless to tell
nary an erectile spell
Asper tinker soldier
     tailor spy didst quell

basic animal instinct,
     and feral gonadal horniness
with intent to consummate sexual intercourse
     according tummy ought to occur,
     cuz that blustery air
     mirroring said day when hell
nearly froze over invoking
     intervention from Cain and/or Abel.

Thus when prick remained
     limp and nearly frost bitten
(at a boulder christened cock rock),
     aye frostily smitten
slogging wet sneakers, thru
    knee high, no mo' tubby written.

Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2018