Best I Dunno Poems
Please love yourself,
My daughter wrote
As we chatted away
About my upcoming trip
And yet my tears spilled over
As I bared my heart
To my 19 year old daughter
The joy of my life
The light of my eyes
The reason…..
The reason I go on with life
It’s for her
I try to survive
And push on
For she still needs me
And she wrote…..
You need to appreciate yourself more mami
I can't imagine my life without you
Just thinking about my life without you in it
just makes me wanna break down
Please mama for me
Please love yourself
I dunno why it's so hard for you to see how incredible you are
She knew all my reasons
And yet she asked
Desperate to pull me out
To help me see the light
To remind me of who I was
Who I still am
And I soothed and comforted her
Knowing she’d worry
Her daddy away
And her Mama all alone
Locked in her room
Crying the night away
Yet she was the strong one
Mothering me
Giving me
A shoulder to cry on
And after all the tears those words of hers brought
I thanked her for loving me…..
And she wrote
I can't help it. You're amazing. You just need to give yourself a chance
Come here mami we'll have so much fun
And I smiled through my tears
Grateful for the blessing I have in her
And my heart decided
Once more
Once more
For a little while longer
To fight the good fight
To survive
To let the vivacious Mommy she knew
Come to life
The one all her friends loved
And said was “so cool”
That Mommy
That woman
I'd ask her to go on
And to try...
To try...
To love herself...
...For the love of a daughter
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Nurse: Briefly describe your pain
Me: Ouch
Nurse: On a scale from 1 to 10, how would you rate your pain?
Me: I dunno...where's your scale?
Nurse: No, no sir, on a scale...
Me: Okay!...180 butt-naked
Nurse: When was the last time you had a physical exam?
Me: Well, me and this lady went out the other night...
Nurse: We'll need a stool sample
Me: YOUR stool or my stool? I'll need a saw...
Nurse: We'll need to do some lab work
Me: I understand, it's hard to keep good help isn't it?
Nurse: Do you have a history of suicide?
Me: Umm...
Nurse: Are you having trouble urinating?
Me: Just a sec...nope, no problem here
Nurse: Sh-t!
Me: Just a sec...nope, no problem here
Nurse: Son of a...How many fingers am I holding up??
Me: Aha!...One in the middle and four bent ones, right?
Nurse: I swear to G... Sign this freekin' admittance form!
Me: Uh uh!...I deny the whole thing...
Nurse: (Sigh) Are you allergic to anything?
Me: Hospitals...
The doghouse needs a paint job now our dog and I have swapped
our sleeping quarters after making sure, that the penny dropped.
You see I shut up the missus which was a blessing at the time,
but to have her being speechless, in our house is a crime.
It was a Sunday afternoon when my problem starts to flare,
and me on my seventh stubby, so began her questionnaire.
‘How many beers do you drink daily?’ She first said to me,
and I shrugged ‘I dunno; maybe I’d average three.’
‘Three’ she says, ‘every day. So how much do you pay?’
I’m not sure and so I said to her, ‘five bucks each I’d say.’
And of course, this set her mind, towards onward thinking,
so, then she’s asking me, ‘how long have you been drinking?’
When I replied ‘twenty years,’ she went for something greater
to go shaming me by using, her mental calculator,
‘Five dollars each and three per day; each month five-forty bucks.
In just one year that’s seven grand, and boy oh boy that sucks.’
What could I say; she’s right – I took a bite of humble pie,
and waited for the next tirade once she looked me in the eye,
‘If you multiply by twenty, and leave out inflation,
you’ve spent one-forty thousand in a wasteful situation.’
Drinking beer is wasteful! Has she lost her flamin’ mind?
And if I thought she’d finished; that thought soon declined;
‘If you did not drink beer, do you know what you could have done?
You could have saved with interest, and our troubles would be none.’
‘You could have brought an aeroplane after all those twenty years,
instead of flushing down the toilet, all those wasteful beers,’
but then one quote from me, is enough to send her near insane,
‘Seeing you’ve not had a glass of beer, where’s your aeroplane?’
Three minuuts is all me’ve got
to fix sense of it, alles not.
Whutis time in tru sens of tings
wen you and mestart to zings
of lifinluv of all that is,
or izunt, in this heady quiz?
Life’ll livun tillit diez
then whutstocomm in the skiez?
Dusto dust is whutis sade
anthen what – where dus dust go?
I dunno and don tinktha you do too.
I'd like to tinktha dust arrize – surprize!
Koment doz not define dedend.
Iznotso ezzy to defend it.
Dustit fliz, in air it blos
to landzen, feilsen, mountens too.
Life beginagin an then enden witit.
Three minuuts to hold dust in my heart.
Motionless as time fleets,
finding a purpose to grow,
sewn my heart tight,
for too long,
"OK, I'll try it," I say.
It's just an idea," she said. "Why does there have to be a point?"
"What's the point?" I'd asked.
"I dunno," she says. "Maybe a cat dies. Or, write a fantasy."
"About what?" I ask.
"Why don't you just write any, old story," she says, "and tell it backwards?"
"You mean like going around a storywheel?"
"Or a ball," my wife says.
Like a bouncing wheel?
Story reincarnated --
Up, down, round, no end.
Round and round it goes,
Whether you live or you die --
No big difference.
"What difference does it make?" I sigh.
"You'd better tell folks how to read it," says my wife, who always underestimates people.
"Alright then, let's get this story started."
Written Nov. 9, 2015.
Copyright (c) 2015 by 2815699 Canada Inc.
Ode to Chores
By Brenda Kahn
When the Good Lord
In his wisdom, Hark!
Said “Separate
the light from dark.”
He surely didn’t
See that time
Would be a scarce
Resource to find
I throw my clothes-wash
In by person
Lest my crazed
Schedule worsen
If I did dark
Then later light
Lord knows I’d be
Doing wash all night
Now let’s take a
Look at dishes
Yes! I want to
Save the fishes
But if the washer
Doesn’t run
Each night the mornings
Won’t be fun
There will be no
Little spoons I trust
And everyone
Will miss the bus
And who is it
Who said that,
If we bought
A tabby cat
They would surely
Clean the litter
A chore which leaves me
Slightly bitter
Now babies
While they make a mess
Their culinary
In-ter-ests
Are simple
Older kids not so
They complicate things
As they grow
Till no meal happens
By the book
Less dinner – more
Short order cook
One says too sweet
One says no crust
One spits it out
With disgust
And if you find
A way to wrangle
Your whole brood
To the table
One eats fast
The other slow
Everyone answers
“I dunno”
Lordy what’s a mom to do
With such a cantankerous crew?
But I digress
Our topic here
Is what to do
With soccer gear
Piles of cleats
Sticks lacrosse
And other sporty
Stuff to toss
But instead
I make a bin
Label it
And throw stuff in
So take a cue
From my girl Eve
If you feel a sudden
Pull to leave
You’re not at all
The only one
Chores are simply
Not that fun.
My faithful friend from Boise, Idaho
Another so true, where to find one, I dunno
He talks a strange lingo
I think hard and then bingo
The “words” he creates make sense, well sorto
Tonight, my heart paces
My head pounds
Like I downed a cup of coffee
I know what's right, but it's hard to do
Tomorrow is the day
And I'm only ten min's away
I so wish it were
A moving melting mirage
That I couldn't reach or catch
But I'm here now, I dunno how
Did I pause praying?
Or did I stop studying?
'Twas while working your vineyard
I got trapped in this love yarn
Am I at fault for falling over? After all
I asked you take them butterflies away
Nay, King of kings
You gave 'em extra wings
Now my mouth blinks
My eyes mutter
I stutter
Rehearsing my parting lines
Tomorrow must come, ain't no doubt
I wanna do right. I want out!
©Chidiogo Ibe Radiant~ August 2014
With this fear I'm a slave
Just like digging my own grave
Stitch stitch
Hush hush
Spiders in your bed
Stitch stitch
Hush hush
Spiders in your head
Spinning up
Spinning down
Climbs in your hair
Gives you a stare
Stitch stitch
Hush hush
Spiders in your bed
Stitch stitch
Hush hush
Spiders in your head
Tiny legs walking
In your skin crawling
Making wounds wider
Nothing can hinder
Just like a dead flower
Making me wither
Stitch stitch
Hush hush
Spiders in your bed
Stitch stitch
Hush hush
Spiders in your head
Takes a bite
Just a slight
Poisonous fangs
This sad song I sang
My view gets hazy
Making me go crazy
And as I bleed
My words do heed
Stitch stitch
Hush hush
Spiders in your bed
Stitch stitch
Hush hush
Spiders in your head
Accidentally deleted this Poem
My bad
Rewrote it and this came out.
I dunno if better or worse or same-same
For the contest "Along Came a Spider"
5/30/13
Pls. do leave a Comment
(/>_<)/ _|__|_
Well, I dunno what I've been living on here
But I think the sell by date is gone fowl
This rut seems to be so very deep, I fear
That it has swallowed up my soul.
Like an endless roundabout
Every exit is de- ceased
Some folk, they just stop living it out
End up dying piece by piece
But I swear that this is not my fate
For I swear ill be so much more
I'll get to the roundabout in time not late
For the promise of hope is mine ashore
Well this game of patience,
I have played the cards too long
So i think its time to fold
To throw this weary hand in for a song
Before I get too old
Its The same old song, and dance,
The records getting pretty thin
I need to straighten out my road
Till I'm clear from reckless sin
From underneath this rock,
I'm disappearing here within an ode
New horizons, bring them on
Am I home
Where have they been all this time
A thousand suns warm my soul and atone
Step into the promised land and shine
I'm finding it all
Across the river
Happiness, yes i remember this but I'm wary
Though it seems so constantly so long ago
It seems so very scary
The thought of just letting myself go
Yet look at this effervescent idyllic place
I've found myself in,
I waded through this soul rivers nameless face
Till the waters under my chin
I'm finding it all
Across the river
A little sacrifice then in adventure mode
For the rest of my life to begin
So this is my beginning new road
Always moving never standing still, I win
I wont put up or shut up for the law
This time I need, for me
Its not that I hate those before
But its no longer enough you see
Jump right in, the currents strong I'm in
Sweeping me to where I wanna be
I don't have a care i'm soaked to the skin
This new seen sun will envelope me
I have found it all
Across the river
there's a bloke i know, who keeps going on
about his bowels
but besides that, i am attempting a poem
which uses meter effectively
you know, so it has rhythm and stuff
and subtle 'feminines' at the end of iambic pentameter
so that it creates something
but i haven't got the time for this
like watching a peter jackson movie, sitting
there
in the cinema, thinking..."i've got stuff to be getting on with."
She was a wily cigar chompin' gambler with the moniker of Poker Alice,
Renowned throughout the west for her skill in many a gamblin' palace!
Poker Alice had a good head for countin' and with her very cunnin' guile,
(Plus her beauty), she mesmerized her opponents, amassin' quite a pile!
Poker Alice worked in saloons across the west as a faro and poker dealer.
She worked in Creede, Colorado for Bob Ford, that notorious stealer!
Because of her pious rearin' as a girl, she refused to work on Sundays,
But she was back smokin' a two-dollar stogie and dealin' cards on Mondays!
She drifted to Deadwood, South Dakota, where her notoriety was well known,
And married a house painter named Tubbs who was a deft gambler on his own!
Later she established a brothel near Fort Mead Army Post with her ill-gotten gain.
The place was small and she needed funds to fix the 'house' on Pleasure Lane!
To expand and recruit 'soiled doves' from Kansas City she applied for a loan.
The banker scratched his skull sayin', "I dunno! That's a risk into the unknown!"
She convinced him notin' that The Grand Old Army had an encampment near,
And for the soldiers' bent for visitin' hog ranches, he had nothin' at all to fear!
Things didn't go well since she plumb forgot The Methodist Preachers' Convention,
Convened each and every year and she hadn't figured on that intervention!
Poker Alice's fame and notoriety followed her well beyond her wanin' years.
She died after a gall bladder operation with her 'house' payments in arrears!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 4 in Don Johnson's " Your Old Ballad Or Rhyme - Best Of All Time" Contest
July 2011
Bananas be bruisin'
And I dunno why.
Bananas be bruisin'
They be covered in flies
Bananas used to be pretty cool,
They used to be yellow and stuff.
Bananas used to be pretty cool,
Now they just shriveled, the peel
Rough
They brown, they yucky,
They ain't yellow like a ducky.
They sticky, they black,
Like a gangsta
Who decides what's fair?
I dunno - but I can sure
Tell you what's
NOT FAIR:
Putting out costumed morsels
On Halloween night
And having their parents or other large beasts accompany them
Some of the large ones carry mace
The worst ones
Carry wooden stakes
or CROSSES
Tasty-looking tots go from door to door
Trusting in the kindness of strangers
Who will give them candy
And toys
But not ONE will come
Into my parlor
Willingly or not
I've had a few tugs of war
Over several treats
Who tend to scream
And somebody big always
Comes to their rescue
Then they go away
WIth all their TREATS
Whilst I remain here
Alone
And HUNGRY
Now THAT'S not fair!