Best Inez Poems
Musing with Caren Krutsinger’s musings. I love
our dear poet’s imagination. Thank you, Caren
for allowing me to use your poem and a few phrases
from your poem. Used poem by permission.
My Food Flees from Me
Caren,
A creepy thing I would devour
But wait, wait, wait…
not fuzzy wuzzy in the drain;
are you insane?!
Tickly tasty, i won’t wasty,
wiggles and waggles -
the hashtag “what am i thinking?!”
I watch it move - stomach’s sinking.
My food flees from me…that might be
just what i need!
Don’t be hasty - tastes like cookie?
My brain reacts like a rookie.
Cookie doesn’t slide nor slither
on my pink tongue.
I’m persnickety and picky,
quite realize this snack is icky.
Though your friendship i encourage,
i’ve no courage
for bugs that bathe in the sink
or crawl on the floor. I need shrink!
No! No! No bugs at all, my friend.
My skin’s crawling,
as i’m spitting out the thought.
I’ll eat good things, as i’ve been taught.
4/28/2023
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Sponsor: Margarita Lillico
Not as Picky as I Thought She Was
If I was hungry I would devour that creepy thing I think.
It is something tasty that crawled out of my sink
You don’t even know what it is my friend says.
She is persnickety and picky, my pal Inez.
Look at its legs, I reply. They look tickly tasty.
Not so fast! Says the crawler. Let’s not be hasty!
Inez says “I never eat food that speaks to me.”
“I will make an exception,” I say, “That thing is free.”
Inez is not as choosy as I thought that she was.
I begin bathing the sink creature, fluffing his fuzz.
"Wait!" the crawly thing says. “That brush is too short for me!”
The second I stop, he scuttles down the drain to flee.
Caren Krutsinger
I could not afford a Bow Flex, costs too much
I get diagrams to build my own from a man named Henry Clutch
The instructions say if I build it right
It will make me lean and my stomach tight
The first step, according to the instructions, is to collect empty beer bottles and
cans
I go across the road to see Inez and Stan
They open their closet and tell me to take what I need from empties in here
I was kind of disappointed when none of them were from Busch Beer
They ask me what are they for, I tell them they're for a hobby
I smile as I see myself in 32 weeks with a trailer park body
The next step is to collect some full sand bags, I know who to contact, the
National Guard
I know a female Sargeant there, he name is Louise, but her troops call her Black
Bart
She has the looks of her dad Stew
But she has a singing voice like Julie Andrews
She hooks me up with three full sand bags, which is more than I need
Step three I can't do, it would violate the trailer park creed
I guess cheaper isn't always the way to go
I bragged to my wife about the new me, but now I must eat crow
I decided to use the stuff I collected to decorate the front yard, but my wife said it
would look too gaudy
I look around at the heroes here at the park and realize that after all I do have a
trailer park body
Now I am back to square one
This trailer park is rippin' and roarin' fun
That couch sitting out in front of lot nine
After it's dark it will be mine
AntiPoem 31 “Rita Montero”
(Poet’s instruction: Kindly play “Ay, Mama Inez”
by Rita Montero while reading this AntiPoem)
a red trolley finds Ebbets Field behind a pigtown ditch
significant hotdogs and burnt singles melt into the pitch
Jackie Robinson squares off with an ash tree riding the sky
the flag of our fathers dancing in center field poised to fly
“honey, I hope you like these seats here in the bleachers
you can see Bedford on the phone looking for preachers
an endless parade of white-walled tires scurrying on by
can you smell the Nathan’s dogs downstairs on hot rye
let us hurry hence dear, before this inning comes to an end
and our Jackie Robinson comes barreling up to bat again”
“Una mujer negra se asoma en el teatro de Buenos Aires”
Argentine goddess with roots in the dark seeping prairies
musically squeezes the brass ring as the black cloud dries
“Rita Montero, you are as lovely as your sweet empanada pies
your wonderful sidewalks through gardens of lapacho trumpets
please come sit with me here, to talk and to eat these crumpets
to speak of your forever glissandos and sad asado whispers
your electric shadows finding humble graces at vespers
retrieving lost spaces from opera teachers and stupid men
to step forward again with singing eyes and a ballpoint pen
Rompiste la puerta blanca maloliente!”
please Rita meet me in Córdoba next wednesday”
she sits in her bleacher seat with a Nathan’s dog on hot rye
“honey, I hope we can see Jackie Robinson hit a deep fly
high up into the airy Brooklyn blue arching yet over Bedford
the democrats in section seven will applaud the proud leopard
Rita Montero, I can see her in the grandstand behind Shotton
she is giving absolution for all the skin sins now long forgotten
let us hurry hence dear, before this inning comes to an end
and our Jackie Robinson comes barreling up to bat again”
Shhhhh
there she is
on computer no. 2
the one i come here to see
if by chance she's here
the one in the green dress
and black spiked boots!
now she's a lady
lady like in all her ways
why is that guy in the black jacket
blocking my view
what site is she on
does she know about the soup
i wonder if my name
will ring a bell
john loving iii
yes that's me
maybe we can share a soda sometime
give me your number
and i'll give you mine
who am i fooling
she's probably got a hulky boyfriend
somewhere working out in the gym
right now
and she's leaving now to pick him up
why god? why not me?
why do i have a girl i like every where
i go; at my age?
did she really make me forget
sharon, april, tonie, judy, inez
tiffany,and the whole host of women
that i don't even know their names?
all of a sudden
i was there; our world
her's and mine
can i bump into her and meet her?
or just over come my shyness
and try being someone i'm not
or should i just keep on having
this obsesion every time i come
to the library and she's there?
to ask God?
the question is rhetorical
i feel like woody allen
in a mell gibson film
i'm just suppose to step aside
then remembering the phrase
"It is better to have loved and lost..."
oh yeah, that's right love hurts
be happy with the way things are now
Painting the mushroom is quite an endeavor
We end up with six faerie volunteers who do it forever
The red is a beautiful color, I think it is enormously clever.
Says a pixie who likes painting with a paint easel lever.
I want to introduce a faerie princess from Kansas City she says.
She is a bit odd, even her name which is Lucille Naomi Inez.
Okay, we agree, but you have to take off that rhinestone fez.
It clashes with the feather she found on the res.
I want to toast the bear, badger says.
For being so playful with my cousin Inez.
I want to toast the fox, replies the bear.
Who always tells a tale with infinite care.
I want to toast the squirrel replies the dwarf elf.
Who is always playful and keeps nuts on this shelf.
I want to toast the elf, says the hedgehog, Barry.
Bemused by this idiocy is the wise female faerie.
Inez is haughty and stuck up said they
I did not care, decided to meet her and stay
Having heard their strange ideas before
They stereotyped people forevermore
All Africans are this, all Irish are that
All redheads cook with used lard from a vat
All older women eat bland unseasoned food
Their generalizations are simply ignorant and rude
I met Inez who was a delight, not stuck up, just shy
Had supper with her and her lovely African guy
About people I always make up my own mind
Generalizations are ignorant; most are also unkind.
Heroes are not born or bread
They proactively step up
And pre-fix things
Wait until Uncle Lester gets here.
He will know what to do
Especially if he brings Aunt Inez.
She tosses her hair into the wind with wild abandon and hope.
Her ways wise and wonderful, power tree is as pure as Ivory soap.
I stand in the shadows watching, wondering what she will do next.
Her movements seem spontaneous, but her mind is complex.
She looks so casual, and yet she is always plotting an oak says.
I know this is true, she is my sister, her name is Splendiferous Inez.
I have seen her in action since I was a wee babe, she is always thinking.
Of ways to bring peace and hope to the woods, continually uniting and linking.
Do not be an asp!
I say to my husband.
Putting him immediately into argument-ive mode.
Asp, I said Asp I shriek with glee
As he heads toward me
With a super angry face, to dismount and unload.
He stops at the couch.
Asp like a venomous snake? He asks me.
Yes, like a wonderful, Cleopatra-like, wonderful cobra, see?
And just how is that better? He asks me, in a dangerous way.
“Asps are handsome, determined, eager-to-please,” I happily say.
We both know I’m making this up on the fly.
We almost laugh when we catch each other’s eye.
He smiles. You’re an asp, he says.
Yes, I am, but not as much as Inez.
Submitted on 4-30-2018
Contest: ASP by Anthony Slausen
The biggest thing about Harvey Elephant was his fear.
He was afraid of zebras, fox, muskrats, opossums, even a deer.
He was terrified of oak trees, willows and sycamores too.
His mother asks, “What in the world are you going to do?”
He can’t go to the city, his father says. “He is afraid of glass.”
“He is also afraid of horns, sirens, electricity and cars that take gas.”
He could be a computer nerd and work by himself someone says.
“Great except he is afraid of computers,” said his cousin Inez.
If I was hungry I would devour that creepy thing I think.
It is something tasty that crawled out of my sink
You don’t even know what it is my friend says.
She is persnickety and picky, my pal Inez.
Look at its legs, I reply. They look tickly tasty.
Not so fast! Says the crawler. Let’s not be hasty!
Inez says “I never eat food that speaks to me.”
“I will make an exception,” I say, “That thing is free.”
Inez is not as choosy as I thought that she was.
I begin bathing the sink creature, fluffing his fuzz.
"Wait!" the crawly thing says. “That brush is too short for me!”
The second I stop, he scuttles down the drain to flee.
S-tatement
I-n
M-essage
O-f
N-oble
E-xpression
I-s
N-icely
E-mployed
Z-estfully
H-aving
A-pplied
R-ighteous
R-egards
I-n
M-use
A-bout
N-ame
Topic: Birthday of poetess Simone Inez Harriman (March 05)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Impatient Inez could not wait her turn
Growling, snapping, snarling, doing a burn
Thinking she is the only one to wait for this groom
How did she miss the other nine of us in this waiting room?
Alice actually ate an apple,
Billy broke building blocks,
Cora counted candy corn,
Donna drove decoy ducks,
Elliot's eating eggplant,
Frannie's filleting fish,
George's geeting Greta,
Harriet's hunting hornets,
Inez is irritating Ike,
Jasmine's jabbing John,
Karen's kissing Kevin,
Leon loves Luann,
Monte's mimicking Mary,
Nellie's not-so nice,
Opal's organizing origami,
Penelope's pushing Perry,
Quina's quietly quilting,
Ramona's reading romance,
Sophie's softly singing.