Best Husbandly Poems


Let's Ponder a Little I

My thoughts came up again
Like the rush of a heavy a rain
My finger tips swollen with symbols
Drained in paints of inspired constructs.

I have seen a poison bought cheaply
And kills in a twinkle done twinkly
I have seen of a massacre done
A man under this sun.

I know of a poison bodily bottled
Inherently laden and mottled
Ten times massacre
In abandon and without care.

I have seen a company of bush meats
That roams in pride and strange feats
I know of the dread of a disease
That has crowned many their lives to cease.

I have heard of a prostitutes’ notification
Stripped of their personification
An animalized synonymy
‘’BUSH MEATS ACADEMY’’

I have seen the beasts in men
Like the draught in lions’ den
Many out of many
Dry wells without comfort any.

I have seen the husbands’ experience
Where anger holds their manly evidence
Too hot to control their fisting prowess
A cowardly way to husbandly express.

I have seen the sheer foolishness in beauty
That robs off a woman’s intellectual quality
And the integrity in ‘’Iwalewa”
What then is beauty polished every hour?

I have seen beautiful Agbeke chew her husband
And dashing Abike throw the food with one hand
The noise of Orekelewa Aduke has woken me,
My standby alarm every early morning.

Premium Member Husband For Hire

He’s a married man who lost his job,
During a depressed economic time;
Willing to do laborious work around your house -
Any kind of odd job he can find.

The kind of things a husband normally would do,
For women who lived without a man;
He could come over and take care of them,
Doing anything that he possibly can.

He could lift heavy boxes or mend a broken fence;
Cut your grass or even take you to a dance;
His wife even said she would look the other way
If you want other husbandly duties and are willing to pay.

He would do his job well then he wouldn’t hang around;
The best thing going all the single ladies found.
By word of mouth recommendations were spread;
Better than in his last job he kept his family fed.

Married women even had jobs for him to do,
When their husbands were travelling for a night or two;
His calendar fills fast so call now if you want him,
He’ll do what he can to try to fit you in.

He’s a married man who lost his job,
During a depressed economic time;
Willing to do laborious work around your house -
Any kind of odd job he can find.
© Joe Flach  Create an image from this poem.

Stolen Children

How quiet it is without video sounds---
Zelda on hunt or Star Wars rounds,
either on Nintendo, Playstation 2,
games that she all played, that is true. 
I haven’t stepped on magnetix lately,
tripped on laundry left behind hasty,
no late-night chats from the boys’ room
or piles of crumbs awaiting a broom.
Don’t have to round up those dirty dishes,
run to the store for cigarette wishes,
for once the kitchen is clean all day,
what else did she do but let kids play?
Can watch some football or a good fight,
listen to smooth jazz for most of the night,
catch a movie without explosion or crash,
no worries now about layout of cash.
Don’t know exactly what I did wrong,
though she gave quite a dance and song,
and all of my faults---it was quite a total!
I didn’t live up to her husbandly model.
She left for greener, and took boys away,
I'll have to fight to construct a new way.
I’m calm and peaceful, no panic attack,
but I’ll fight on till I win my boys back.

[and I did]
© Jim Tidd  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Still a Sixteen Year Old Boy

When we were both fifteen, I jumped on your Cadillac’s hood and scratched the hell out of it as only a
dancing teenage girl could do.
I remember you watching me with sparkly hazel eyes, as if I was a pet, and you were so proud that I was yours, and brand new.

I did not hear a word about the damage for forty-four or five years, even though you probably went home and cried some.
You remind me how darling I was on that date, and how fascinated you were with me,
That I was so adorable and winsome.

Time and time again over breakfast, lunch and supper, you have reminded me how thrilling I was on that first date,
To fall head over heels in love with me, even though I ruined the paint on your car, sealed your fate.

You have been my sunshine man, a hero with a sense of humor, a marvelous husband, a great daddy, with loads of charm.
I wish we still had that 1959 pink Cadillac with the chrome tail fins. I never meant to do her any harm.

I love it that you kept the damage to yourself for so many long winters, short summers, and colorful falls.
I have been proud to call you my husband, and I know you have made all of the correct husbandly duty  calls.

We have been together for nigh onto fifty years now, but when I look at you coming through the screen,
The man I see on the other side, winking at me, is a handsome boy of almost but not quite sixteen.

Mine Conscience Exhorts Restitution Regarding Lost Wedding Band

Thru deliberate seductive
liaisons, ploys, and underhanded gambits,
I tendered illicit, explicit and complicit shenanigans
blatant actions to foment coital adulteration.

Ofttime these discrete liaisons found me removing 
linkedin metallic keepsake symbolizing union.

Years elapsed since this spouse pledged his troth,
he sported husbandly marital vows courtesy
monogrammed nondescript ring.

Impossible mission prevails to locate complimentary
jeweled tokens bespeaking our joint monogamous fidelity.

Yours truly beset with genuine disheartened woe
no matter public affections, he never doth show
thee above stated guilty admission signifying
mine absent overtures
(indicating even marginal wedded bliss),
the missus posits as wanting from me,
a common garden variety generic Joe Schmoe.

Self awareness heightened
within mental cogs and wheels
as if of a sudden hindsight brought
into sharp focus think barely audible
high pitched squeals
nsync with and accompanied by newsreel

silently displaying story
(solely my viewing pleasure) of mein kampf
metaphorically yours truly blown to bits
while hoisting myself by own petard
vigorously spiriting and
pitching me head over heels.

Regale thee dear reader,
I strive with utmost zeal
plus cathartic to expunge, (albeit poetically)
my pathetic, quixotic,
and reasonable rhyming spiel
hoopfully mine lame literary endeavor
won't upset any spur of the moment meal

thus tis wise I beat a hasty retreat
before ye sic on me Achilles heel
versatile scouts i.e. English language
verb boss and noun sensical police,
yours truly here expert escape artist
dog gone hard to grab hold,
cuz I trumpet art of making the deal.

Proclaiming high fidelity to wife high wed
she already with child (our first)
into holy matrimony we did nervously tread
"quod erat demonstrandum"- Q.E.D.

"what was to be shown" courtesy yours truly
this once upon a time
(about two and a half dozen
Earth orbitz ago) time newlywed.

Now he frets and experiences woebegone
as testimony scratching out
yet another one of his plaintive,
quirky, somber, ridiculously shown,
herewith I attempted to communicate none

previous endeavor ever considered exemplary
yet I diligently, honorably,
and literally try to hone
elusive talent hours daily
hermetically sealed, and sequestered alone.

How Boot a Mud Pie For the Birthday Girl

How boot a mud pie for the birthday girl?
(yes, that would be the snoozing missus,
hook lames to need mooch beauty sleep),
hence who might not arise for bajillion years.

Thou me noggin forced to remember
how me heart used to ache
asper in no help
to relieve anticipatory anxiety
doth suddenly find this

(24/7 day tripper sleeper) wide awake,
now mine dearest beloved,
ye need not break
these lovely bones remembering,
if yaw completed lix piddle orbitz

axing age iz fatalistic rhetorical question,
finding yours truly escorted to lake
chock full of fierce
allidiles or crocogators,
now worm eye gonna

get the most perfect Earth friendly cake,
rather than dastardly duck
that husbandly role i.e. man drake,
thus what better way
this stormy July sixth, 2019

to express moony times,
aye did pastimes forsake
feigning, pretending, trumpeting
loving thee tubby "FAKE,"
now...haim twice the man
I used tubby - formerly rake

hush long haired pencil necked geek
though in face of adversity still meek,
yet every now and again
rare instances flashes peek
a boo analogous to happy

go lucky boyhood doth sneak
out from down underground
self long suppressed
many times multiplied
by 52 times 7 days a week,

thus by gosh by golly
fingers quickly tap dance
akin to celebrating holly
day hootin n hollerin like jolly
roger, who pirated some loot

unlike captives feeling melancholy,
or akin to cracker offered
than immediately retracted from Polly
nonetheless, she might suggest some idea
worth parroting, thus I lob and volley

poetic pitch to thee anonymous reader
unbeknownst to me if got pie in the sky idea
how to appease wife, one costly human feeder
who gobbles everything in her wake
not affixed down with mortise
and tenon made of cedar.


Premium Member No Sex On Dates I Will Wait-

She says she doesn’t
Doesn’t believe it
Love is impossible

Everyman she’s dated
All minds were deflated
All they want to do is bump and grind
You can read between the lines 
You really know what I mean

Sexual gratifications
Never a vacation
All they want to do is bump and grind
You know what I mean

She is more than just a object a sex toy
She’s somebodies sister, daughter
So in remission
She awaits marriage
Maybe one man will have the courage

To do his husbandly duties on the honeymoon
Cause nobody’s gitin any sugar in their Kool-Aid tonight
Well praise God (Go sit on some ice boy and take a cold shower)

3/20/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2022©

Lyric Micro Essay Masquerades As Odd Poetic Story

Mild dystopian cracks open 
cobwebbed laden figurative door 
to my super charged 
subconscious shrouded self - 
portal carelessly left ajar
steeped in dark shadows, 

wherein spooky monsters creep 
along edge of night, 
outer limits of twilight zone 
serve as makeshift restraining: bar
21st century alchemist busily massages 
a fictional holographic projection 
to contemplate car

re: ying the terrestrial firmament 
into spasms of expiration, which whim far
fetched since the following conjecture 
contrived within overactive imagination 
of yours truly - such peculiar notions par
for the course sans striving 

to become adroit 
teasing out ethereal material 
analogous to embrace 
plasma up holding star
reed cosmic funereal invocation 
loosing prognostication silencing war.

So without further ado
I offer to continue 
embellishing literary above 
iterated missive anew
for ye to ponder and brew
from a mister wordsmith 
comprising wife as counterpart 
complimenting beastie boy 
aptly named duo motley crue,

whereat dwells within complex edifice 
housing he who begat 
offspring numbered uno and deux,
whereby this husbandly spouse i.e me 
resembles a cross eyed 
cryptogram solver
geeky long haired pencil necked geek
artificially inseminated yik yak 
with fertilized egg of emu

unbeknownst to many edified readers 
might consider myself brain cells few
explainable from being 
chomped on by a carnivorous oldish gnu, 
nevertheless unaffecting ability 
to sire female progeny 
re: guarding biological process
concerning human reproduction 
viz ova linkedin with seminal glue

swimming swiftly via viscous hue
biological processes extant 
from equator far north 
to Inuit housed in igloo
nonetheless, genetic heritage 
comprised predominantly of Jew
genealogy heritage indeed 
Ask Jeeves, cuz he knew
with one very late Uncle Lou

who suffered mad cow disease, 
and considered hims
a milch cow and frequently did moo
calf full when bovine brand new
which found me to rue
what comprises reality to be true
that all humans originated 
from the primate zoo.

Bedlam and Mayhem In the Mistress Iz Boudoir Post Number One

Bedlam and mayhem in the mistress's boudoir

(Nsync with variations on a theme:
various and sundry
pseudo lurid fictitious escapades)
mostly I did merrily wet
whet madness aye ever did dream.)

The missus personal trappings
strewn helter skelter
every perilous step fraught
with danger analogous
riding as passenger
with death cab for cutie
'course thy quasi bohemian rhapsodic Queen
of denial feigns ignorance
attributes hazardous condition

linkedin with accident prone
little lord Fauntleroy's
double doppelganger, me
trumpeting pet husband,
her unrequited germane Liebchen
willing to risk life and limb
doting hand and foot
as proper husbandly duties.

He (ahem... me) exhibits drama
whimsically visiting slapstick pantomime
especially pretending to remove sneakers
pulling with all my feeble strength
off little feet of wife
half-heartedly struggling,

lamely denouncing marriage
nevertheless conveying jollity
regarding marital entrapment
er... rather unbridled wedded bliss
constituting fits and starts enduring
about two dozen years.

I reciprocated amorousness,
whether toward MaryAnne,
(his long ago coldly dismissed
sagacious enchanting first paramour,
(half a dozen years my senior),
whose astrological forecast
accurately predicted promising
acquaintanceship/relationship
potential soul mates
(two score years ago -
gone to naught),
which latter aforementioned humble lass

decried he fomented
incessant emotional grief,
he cruelly (albeit unwittingly)
doled out nothing
but lackluster lovelessness
attributed to identical zodiac signs (Capricorn)

(matter of fact shared same birth date
January 13th - six years age difference)
stubborn misconstrued perception,
whereby fancy free and footloose
selfish nasty short brute nevertheless
deemed himself undeserving of love - humph!

Addeneum: Approximately four decades
re: one quarter century after
aforementioned baptismal initiation
love stricken paroxysm
forty fifth president of United States
took (i.e. plagiarized) many pages courtesy,
cruel playbook authored
by Matthew Scott Harris,

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