Best Hen Pecked Poems
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
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.
"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.
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.
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
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.
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
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!
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!
Friday Night Check-ins
The days have been calm and collected.
The guests have been happy, content.
The weekday staff scurry out from the hotel
To avoid the upcoming event.
Weekend receptionists tremble
As the Friday night check-ins approach,
Fearing the tsunami of wrinklies
On their three-day excursions-by-coach.
The first vehicle’s brakes squeal their warning
As its door opens up with a sigh.
The girl at the desk and her male teammate
Watch the porchway with dread in their eyes.
The first wrinkly disembarks backwards,
Reaching up to be handed her Zimmer.
The scowl on her face giving more than a hint
Of the litany of protests within her.
Slowly the vehicle disgorges
Its fifty malcontent arrivals.
The front desk staff offer a brief heartfelt prayer
For their sanity, composure, survival.
Like an unerring wave of displeasure
The wrinklies shuffle in through the door,
Shoving aside anyone heading out –
They’ve made this manoeuvre before.
The party’s predominantly female,
Determined and far from benign.
Apart from one chap, in windcheater and cap
Looking hen-pecked and toeing the line.
They descend on reception like locusts,
Complaining, demanding and cackling.
The staff at the desk have nowhere to hide
From the surge of objections they’re tackling.
Ground floor room! No steps! Wheelchair access!
Why no lift? Single occupant! Porter!
The tottery old girl with the big Zimmer frame
Demands a young man to escort her.
The onslaught is tough and relentless
As the wrinklies press home their attack.
Then, deftly dealt-with, the tidal wave thins
As they head to their rooms to unpack.
Pleased with the way things were handled,
The reception-staff think they’ve survived.
But outside the lobby, brakes hissing with glee,
Another full coach has arrived…
A Cat's that's Bullied
Wussy
Pussy ;)
Farm Animals that Enjoy the Classics
Dicken's
Chickens
A Corn Farmer with Turn off Jokes and Turn on Passion
Corny
Horny
A Humorous Song
Witty
Ditty
The Fastest "Gun" in the West
Quickie
Dickie ;)
Monica's L's nickname for the President
Billy
Willy
My Belly Dance MODE
Wiggle
Jiggle (Ah...you 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
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.
Just in case you wondered...
Yours truly, (i.e. I) quickly
became hypnagogic afore
subsequently segueing soundly
into autohypnosis booklore,
while binge reading courtesy
regarding aptitude chore
treasure trove books galore
five dollars as many
paginated fictitious stories ('bout deplore
hubble basket cases) fit into authorized bag
infernal challenge sifting evermore
alum skid more or less
bending and reaching skyhigh
toe tilly (ejaculating
what the heel) footsore
compromising writing, rather heretofore
indulging insatiable knowledge
(surpassing narcotic fix),
the world wide web hide ignore
engrossed various and sundry
enchanting, kickstarting, and revelling - bonjour
dear reader buzzfeeding...
Till chief hankering
(regarding appeasing passionate
word loving aficionado,
albeit temporarily ceased
(think intellectual fancy feast)
getting imagination (mine) linkedin
outspeeding lightning greased
experiencing cerebral capacity increased
virtual make believe
terra incognita leased.
insatiable jabberwocky yen
countless hours elapsed when
inconvenient wont head sleep
wracked courtesy (bowling) ten
pins nabbed mettlesome ambulation
often found me - hen (pecked) hex pen
sieve dishabille scattered brained brute
somnambulant analogous awake burning ken
kindled smoldering cognitive tinder even...
Chilly cooling off, where
temporal lobed hiatus taken
beefing portfolio in effort to scare
back poetic proclivity despite near
severe withdrawal symptoms
reacquainting novelty here
with effort to jog capacity
to craft poem quite aware...
Unsuspecting readers breathed
sigh of relief interim joker I went absent
posting trademark gobbledygook,
now unnamed fool rushes in,
where angels fear to tread - nay cent
return of native son unequivocally, pinterestingly
digitally... afore written dive versification
brandishing said as unsung literary event
psalm time sacrilegious Jew bull gent
bringing entertainment intent
to thee anonymous
analogously, humorously, and parenthetically
lamely affecting (i.e. poorly emulating)
Shakespearean belles lettres,
perhaps coronavirus pathogen
t'will cut me down, whereby
microbial size Clark Kent,
whoops twas Lois Lane I meant
to empower one meek and obedient
primate even during
but, and, or conjunctive
rutting season quiescent.
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!
TOO LOVE YOU MY DEAR SHANA -
MORE THAN THIS SHABBY POEM
CAN CONVEY, WHICH...
UPON ATTEMPTING TO UNDERSTAND -
ABOVE GIBBERISH JA PROBABLY
WILL PROBABLY RAISE ARMS UP
IN DESPAIR UTTERING OYE VAY!
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 snow...now, no mo' tubby written.