Best Lou Poems
I have a tree named Lou, a great, spreading beech
the shape of a gigantic pear with the stem upside-down.
I named it Lou so it could be Louise or Louis.
I don't know which.
But when I walk in summer,
I smile when I reach its gentle shade
and listen to the shooosh of a thousand silvery leaves
like huge, soft thumbs rubbing together.
And in winter, I urge Lou to hang in there,
brave the icy winds through its skeletal fingers
and stand tall, resolute and silent.
We know, Lou and I, that spring
will come
again.
I'm the luckiest man on earth, Lou Gehrig had said
Two months later, the greatest Yankee was dead
Gehrig suffered from ALS, a fatal disease
He peered beyond the pain, his words a fresh breeze
I know you left us/ way before your time
And still it's hard for us to see exactly why
The pain you suffered/ kept hidden within
No way to tell us, nowhere to begin
Yet you lived on for 35 years
Until finally you couldn't suffer through anymore tears
I know you loved us all/ but I wish I could've done more
To help you cope with the burden you tried so hard to ignore
But your spirit lives on/ in a place like no other
And one day I know I'll see you my brother
But until then/ know how much we cared for you
Rest in Peace my friend/ My buddy Lou
apologies to Robert W. Service
There’s a tale that is told
In the night Yukon cold
Of the shooting of Dan Mc Grew
The truth as it’s known
Is a legend that’s grown
And the truth is known by very few
It’s twenty years on
The Malamutes gone
There’s nobody left from that night
But there’s talk of some gold
That sometimes is told
Of what happened just after the fight
There is word of a bar
“The New Yukon Star”
And a fellow down there who can play
The place it is grand
The best in the land
And it’s found down by Old Frisco Bay
Now, remember the poke
Of McGrew’s the tale spoke
And what happened when Dan was now dead
From his neck it was freed
And the poke held the deed
To Dangerous Dan’s claim it was said
When the Northern lights glow
Bringing life to the snow
They say that old Dan walks again
But twenty years past
Dan took that breath, yes, his last
And left the world of mortal men
Now, the saloon down in Frisco
With a barkeep named Cisco
Had a picture of Dan on the wall
They say that his ghost
Makes it smile when you toast
Dan McGrew when it is last call
A traveller came
And remembered Dan’s name
One night as he sat with his drink
The piano was loud
And he saw through the crowd
A face, which made the man think
He once was a cop
And on occasion did stop
At the bar when Dan McGrew died
He looked at the face
But wasn’t sure of the place
That he knew it, but damn boys he tried
There’s a place saved in hell
For those under the spell
Of those who cheated out old Dan McGrew
In the stories it’s told
how his poke with his gold
Was stolen by someone he knew
Think of the name
Of the one living with shame
From Dan’s last night beneath the north star
Just who could build
A place always filled
A hotel and a popular bar
There on the stair
With long silvery hair
Through cigar smoke that made the air blue
Was the girl who once danced
And had Dan entranced
The girl known only as Lou
There once was a dragon, his name was, Little Lou.
His mind in a quandary, didn’t know what to do.
Dragon’s love children, this Lou wanted to teach;
how and where to begin, it seemed so out of reach.
Being himself, a young dragon lad;
Lou knew within, his wish could be had.
So up on the mountaintop, Lou did watch,
little village children, playing Hopscotch.
He began to think, with his young dragon brain;
an idea came to him, he could barely contain.
So down to the village, Lou swiftly did fly;
watching the children, with bright dragon eyes.
He landed beside, the fountain of Eros;
and watched with caution, little Billy Beros.
Billy was bouncing his little red ball;
back and forth from the side of a cobbler’s store wall.
Lou did approach him in a very slow manner;
so slow that Billy asked, “Dragon, what is the matter?”
Lou placed his head, upon the soft ground and
told Billy the idea he had found.
.
There, in the village, near Eros great fountain;
Billy and Lou began hammering and pounding.
Nails into the wood that, Little Lou had collected;
from their combined efforts, a playground was erected!
The folks in the village were all so amazed;
the playground became the village’s latest craze.
Billy and Lou, were the greatest of friends;
and little Lou’s love, fear it did transcend.
The stray cat walks on three legs now.
(I swear he’d walk on two.)
I found out just the other night;
My neighbors call him Lou.
He’s weathered one more winter:
The fourth since I arrived.
The shape he’s always in by spring:
Lord . . how does he survive?
I leave a pan of dry food out
Each and every day.
Protected from the rain or snow,
In case Lou comes this way.
A little dog house waits nearby,
Next to the pan of food.
It’s padded well in wintertime,
In case Lou’s in the mood:
To trust me and to rest awhile,
In a place that’s dry and warm.
To stop his weary traveling round
And nevermore move on.
Except for this I do no more,
For Lou will not come near.
He’s feral now, afraid of me
And this won’t change, I fear.
In speaking with my neighbor though,
It seems there are a few --
Who also care about the likes
Of poor, old Tiger Lou.
His days are spent amongst us
And amongst us they will end.
But none can say, stray Tiger Lou,
Passed by without a friend.
When we found you at the pound,
your eyes showed your despair,
all the others jumped around,
but not you, you just laid there.
dull chocolate coat, and painfully skinny,
you didn't even lift your head,
I watched you sadly, just a pup,
yet you seemed so grown up.
Half Lab, half Whippet, who could imagine such a dog,
we brought you home,lean and scared,
but soon to us your soul you bared,
your antics always make us all laugh,
you've long forgotten your dreadful past.
Your so full of life and vigor,
so very different than what we imagined,
our lives will never be the same,
you came and livened up our game.
Thank you Missy Lou, for being in our life,
soon you will be two, and we sure do love you,
you make our day brighter than sunshine,
and at night, when your day's play is done,
all your toys are put away.
By my side you lay, sleeping so gently,
as I stroke your silky coat,
sometimes you open a honey colored eye,
and look up at me contented, and then give out a little sigh.
Dedicated to our wonderful dog Missy Lou
who we adopted from the local animal shelter
in March, 2009. She didn't turn out to be what we
thought we wanted, but she turned out to be just
what we needed in our life. She is truly a ball of energy!
We love her!
Tootle Lou clamored to enter the hive,
Snooty queen's pheromones said, "Your antenna's not jive."
Tootle Lou retired to her bachelorette tree,
A wasp with child declared, "No vacancy!"
Tootle Lou landed in a virgin's church hat,
Escaped with her life as the boyfriend slapped.
She entered a bedroom of sugar and spice,
Nestled to sleep with Teddy's blind mice.
Tootle Lou awakened to warm sunshine,
Searched for bright flowers of nectar sublime.
Tootle Lou befriended an overstuffed dove (good thing, too)
Who said, "Tootle Lou, fly west, that's what you should do."
So she buzzed to the west -- her wings nearly fell,
Predators savoring her exo-shell.
A spotted man pasted with honey and bees
Beckoned her stop for a drop of lemon tea.
Tootle Lou now holds her court in a darkly lit royal cell,
Laying out her progeny with prolific excel.
This queenly quote to all outsiders from a lucky mother's daughter:
"Perseverance really rocks but fate rolls out the order."
(MaGowen’s Pizzaland Monroe, CT 2008)
The caterwaul of the jukebox blends seamlessly with the screech of infants,
and the fumes of garlic hanging heavily in the air.
The true mama’s and papa’s are here, here where the dough flies
the glasses clink; and the Beatles belt out
Strawberry Fields Forever ....
The roar of unruly children,
bashing video buttons to Roll Over Beethoven
pounds into the diners temples, dulled with Pinot noir, Chianti
and pitchers of golden ale.
Trays, tall, saucer-shaped sit beside cherry red baskets
of pristine white bread, as the fire engine red corvettes pull up outside.
The jet-black and chrome model T’s vie for spaces on the asphalt lot
outside the restaurants doors.
Sweet-hearts wait for the cracked, green-vinyl booths
like penitents at a Sunday mornings mass.
Pizza pies fly by on stainless saucer- shaped plates
landing on cluttered Formica tables
dressed with vinegars and shake cheese
Racecars zoom around the game track;
as kids run pell-mell down the aisles.
And, only Mary Lou knows
“Who’s on first?”
You talk about a woman great, I talk a legend
A man carry in his heart from childhood to years
Not come as yet. Our culture by captivity rend
Without liberty, and unpreserved in scars of tears
We gathered apart from village smoke and dust
To mend and make in new language that healed
Us to laugh again. The nights had God to trust
Alone, and the radio around which we squealed
Our belief in what she taught us. For I find there
That I can love this self after holocaust and whip,
Use the new tongue to balm me where I am bare,
While she doctored us with potions of vision. Rip
Not the past yet, it was tool stitching us together.
And all our present we can use like she shew us
A rich heritage of materials from us drawn together
To hear it, again Liza singing the people's chorus
Making Boysie run from flatboard liberating joy
As the colonial idiom doomed, chafed in the alloy
Of memory. We blend to make Africa, and preserve
Miss Lou's legacy from which self to us was served.
Tootle Lou met the gang at the McDonalds by the sea,
She shambled in with pants too big and stains for all to see.
We chewed and swallowed but never tasted,
Brain receptors craving stuff that Tootle Lou had wasted.
A carnal exchange that blew on a dime;
For that, it is true, she was always on time.
One after the other, our loads made our minds.
It was later in the decade that I opened the blinds.
Tootle Lou has a baby -- a spawn not of this earth:
Rings in her nose, unwashed hose, a pain she can't desert.
Come one, come all, and abuse her,
User after user.
Tootle Lou reads poetry -- her voice is smart and sad.
A pretty face lies buried in a made-up, phony fad.
No prince of old is coming to slay the Mongol hordes.
Tootle Lou is a friend in need, and no friend shall I abhor.
That day I came to need her, she was lost in powdered fluff.
Her eyes I'm sure they saw me, but her mind was in the rough.
Her perfumed arms I warmly held while lifting up her head.
My Tootle Lou was smiling. My Tootle Lou was dead.
To know you're destined to write poetry, I think a poet needs to find a meaning to his or her own life in everything they see, read or hear. Be it simply opinion, or great revelation. Since I was around 12, I've loved Kerouac's On The Road. I'm not a huge fan of American Literature per say, but I find more heart and soul in Ginsberg and Kerouac than any other American writer. To me, Mary Lou, a character pretty much missing from the end of the story, is the ideal lover. Not because of the ability to have sexual orgies, but because it bothers her that Dean does this, and also that she feels her love is destined to be elsewhere despite being married. For the period this was set, this is a risky move for a woman. And I respect that and adore the character for it. When I wish for someone to be loved and respected; I wish for them to find their Mary Lou. May she be waiting for you somewhere near.
------Mary Lou------
If one were looking for a clear picture;
An idyllic caricature of love;
One must look no further than Mary Lou.
Her grace; her own promiscuous being;
And her unhindered commitment to Dean.
A man can benefit from such a girl;
For Mary Lou can be any woman
With principle and femininity.
Many a man has found a Mary Lou,
And let her go; slip between his fingers.
But man is blind to love by his nature;
For a man can sow his seed and his oats
To anyone willing; coming on strong.
But Woman; oh the glorious woman;
Woman can control a man's very world,
But not without providing unhinged love.
Oh Mary Lou. Where is my Mary Lou?
Where is my own unconditional love?
My own promiscuous development?
Is she yet to come; did I miss my chance?
Where is my sweet, benevolent dancer?
My holy chalice? My whole life's answer?
best friend, children, first love, games, heartbreak, life, moving on,
SKIP TO MY LOU! ©
Harmonizing rhythms
Rotations synchronize to
Skip to My Lou
My Darlings
Couples take up ends
Two turn rope 'required'
Like me with you
Two ends
One jumper
Take turns
Work ends timing.
Double Dutch
Double quick
Pavement recounts
All the licks!
Skipped times
Challenges anew
Missteps loose turns
Rope Splits
Stop skip
Mid crisis
Ends must be reunited
Another ‘Skip To My Lou’
Game starts
More to chance
With knotted ends
'Jointed' again
Start the count-down
One, two, three,four,
You missed stepped---
And loose
My turn!
I'll never forget the dog named Lou,
When he came to us he was no bigger than my shoe.
He was friendly to all , that was his take,
But he was my wife's dog make no mistake.
Of the dog's that I've known,
Throughout their lives as they've grown,
There was an essence of Lou,
That always shone through.
He was a black flash of twist in the air, land on his feet,
A ball chasing gentleman, it was land and repeat,
And when you called he came, he didn't fight,
I tell you that Lou was all right.
Too quickly he grew old, he never liked the cold,
His beard became grey, and he slept all day,
He'd lie in his bed, could barely lift his head,
And when he battled to hear, I knew the end was near.
I'll never forget the dog named Lou
Hi, my name is Jerry
My close friend Lou passed away this week
He was a very avid and knowledgeable baseball guy
People were amazed when they talked baseball with Lou
He knew all about the players their stats, their strengths and weakness
He taught the fundamentals of the game when coaching all ages of kids
He had the a special talent that he could spot a kid with a special trait for baseball
Lou always had positive encouragement for his players
And you could see him give them a pat on the back for their performance
Lou saw one of his dreams come true that was a summer college league
He was a scout for Detroit Tigers and loved every minute of it
I scouting he would scope out the cream of the crop
He loved his family in his special was and was a man of few words
He helped his children to be the best
Big guy, you are now in your field of dreams
I have a request that you hit one over the moon for old Q-Ball
I will miss you and remember all the good times we had