Best Old Boy Poems
He left home when he was barely thirteen,
Said he got tired of getting beat, by an old man that was down right mean.
Said it might have been different, had he done something wrong,
He said shoot I ain’t perfect, but I know when I don’t belong.
He said momma left when I was just nine,
She said she couldn’t live with a man who wouldn’t choose her over moonshine.
And after that it was hell to pay,
Cause he’d get drunk dang near every day.
So I kind of figured I’d get out while I could,
Cause the life at home sure weren’t no good.
It’s been pretty rough out here, but I’m finally learning my way,
Picking up cans and bottles pretty much makes up my day.
Well I’ve been on my own for a little over three years now,
Don’t know what happened to my old man, don’t really care anyhow.
Went by the house once and it was all boarded up and had police tape draped cross the door,
You can bet I wasn’t going back in there that’s for sure.
Shoot I appreciate the money, what’d ya call this an interview,
Shoot mister there’s a lot of kids out here like me, and this was the only thing they
could do too.
FRENCH GIRLS
in the eyes of an
innocent
15 yr American old boy
My son
Sweet naive
Raised in China
Where MTV and YOUTUBE are banned
Where no girl kisses
Until her university days end.
Raised in China
Where knees are covered--
Lips are sealed--
Where boys
Only dream
Of the wonders of Red sex.
My son
Said he loved Paris
For the Eiffel
For the Louvre
For the Seine
For the wine.
But I knew
He loved Paris
For the
Blackest panties
Barely hiding
Knowing smiles
Of
Short tight skirts.
I sit upon the sun-room wall
The man I was painted for has gone
Parted this life, now is pain free
Left 4 daughters who miss him so
His love for cowboys was well known
In charity shops the shelves would scour
For books and movies to be shown
Would watch and watch by the hour
His second love was Bruce Lee
Those movies he loved to see
Then there was rugby at the ref did shout
From his chair because he couldn’t go out
But so proud to be Welsh
On St David’s day would wear
his Daffodil with pride and
sing Cym Rhondda for all to hear
Now my 2 pictures look down and see
An old dog looking up at me
Am sure I saw the old dog wink
Nah it couldn’t, could it be he?
The Avatar is one of the above mentioned painting I painted
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!
Your life must have changed, I wonder
It's not like it used to be, I guess
It is much better now, I hope
You are yourself again, the best
My life is still the same, you bet
Although some things have changed; a few
For better and for worse, it depends
But I keep holding on, still
Your kids are older now, I'm sure
Your love is unconditional, no doubt
Your happiness will last for good
There's nothing to be worried about
My kids are doing great, thank goodness
I live my life for them, you know
They grow so fast and get so smart
That scares me a little bit; I'm old
You haven't quit your job, have you?
You're great at what you do, it's true
How awesome it would be, I wonder
If you could make some money too
My job is still the same, you know
It's hard and badly paid, I mean
But when somebody asks, I say
I may be poor, but I am clean
What's happened to your pet, I wonder?
That annoying barking mammal you had
Have you changed your mind and donated him?
Or do you both still share the bed?
I still have my kitty cat, remember?
A little bit older and full of bad habits
Nowadays, she purrs so loud that
I’ve been thinking about a replacement... Rabbits?
I know we’re old and full of ****
But we could meet someday again
We’d chat a lot, it would be fun
As long as we don’t speak of pain
Love them forever (no matter what)
Take time off when they are teenagers not infants (you'll need it)
Guide them to find the right path (other than a girl’s house)
Use laughter whenever possible (it’s better than crying)
Use the strength god gave you (not to kill them)
Teach them right from wrong (and they will teach you words you wish you did not know)
When they call you for money let them earn it (Then hide your wallet until they are 18)
You will meet all their friends "IDUNO", "WASNTME", and "JUSTCAUSE" (Good Kids but they
hang around to much)
Love them forever (no matter what)
There was derelict old Steam engine,
I played on when I was ten,
I'd hear that lonesome whistle blow,
and the old west would live again,
I rode with Billy Miner's gang,
To rob The CPR,
Climbed onboard that rusty engine,
hollering "Shorty, check the baggage car!"
I wonder if the ghost of ol' Bill Miner,
ever watched us at our play,
Small boys re-enacting ,
a near forgotten day.
Forty years and more have passed...
I still hear that lonesome whistle blow
My pony snorts impatiently ,
She knows it's time to go.
"Pull up your masks and draw your pistols!"
We come around the engine at a run,
Three riders on fast horses,
flashing hooves and blazing gun.
That very same old engine,
I played on as a child,
Now hauls tourists back in time,
to when the West was wild.
Old railroad men and cowboys ,
re-enact a bygone day,
While the grinning ghost of Billy Miner,
watches us at play.
My Old Boy
I’ve written about a little dog that I had
But little Maggie was really bad
I had to return her, she was to much for me
All over the house she would poop and pee
So again it was just my old Bandit and me
His health getting worse even just to see
After I lost my wife
He helped me go on with my life
Then I had to face that tearful day
To put him down was so hard to say
I still look for him in his usual place
The rooms are empty I don’t see his face
More pain and more tears
It hasn’t stopped these past years
He gave me loyalty and love
Now he’s also in heaven above
His face swinging from ear to ear
A bemused smile lighting up
His gander gait
Under the burlap mop
Who’s looking at me
Why is everyone looking at my legs
His mother telling him to be back this summer
Before the green peacocks turn to blue
Droplets big as his nightshade eyes bursting at each swan step
Boy on an errand
The stealthy guilt-ridden leaves of the linden
Motionless in the sudden metallic green flood
Boy still running in the rain
How old am I
As old as the linden when it was eight
Where are the caterwauling magpies this day
None to mock me in my gait
He thinks he’s running in the still hot rain
But the cars and trucks along the road shower
In their mindless manic main
Wait till you see my master drive me proud
Over the bridges under high-volting cables
My throat loosening up in coughs and curses
The mud drained from my tired gables
Boy still keeps running in the rain
When will the summer end
When the cotton sky turns to lead
Or when the boy stops running in the rain
© T. Wignesan July 15, 2011 - Paris
(First appeared in Alongstoryshort site on August 4, 2011.)
Alone on the trail, pushing daylight,
we two pull into a small arroyo to bed down.
Nigh unto exhaustion, hot food
transcends tired old bones and the smell of sweat,
but not enough for either one of us to volunteer.
The fire, more for company than for heat
soon plays its lonely desert song into night air.
We take out our stash and roll an old fashioned
lumpy cigarette, twisting the end just so,
to hold it together till lit.
Soon we’re hanging on cliff’s edge between
the real and unreal world of guided imagination.
The dreams of holy men in ancient tribes calling
shape shifters into mental matrimony,
waiting for the merge of brain and vision.
Beating ceremonial drums and asking for grace.
They soon dig into my old rusty past that hangs
some where on the fringe of past and present.
I’m riding fiery waves in the belly of the beast.
Back draft--- watch for back draft I thought.
Back draft !! That point where temperature raises
combustion to the point of a cyclonic draft of fire.
The beast feeds on oxygen, oxygen eaten so fast
it sucks the surrounding area clean of all air.
A lucky person caught thus would be incinerated.
One unlucky would slowly roast while suffocating.
Awaking abruptly, I forgot the dream. Just a dream.
The wind had settled, in fact there was deathly quiet.
Too quiet, but nothing was giving information.
So we saddled, and headed into Big Timber, the last leg.
Big Timber—a plethora of ash, alpine, and firs of all kinds.
Only the solid wall of granite ahead, separated them and
the helicopter waiting to take them back to base camp.
He felt a harsh feeling of being stalked but didn’t know why.
Besides, he still was apprehensive about the deathly stillness.
As they wound into the narrows he tasted the distinct smell.
Fire, it was very close. Back draft he thought. The warning !!
Thank God for the tiny clearing before the final opening.
He could see the funnel reaching tree tops, deafening all.
Moving behind the outcrop again, they started to retreat.
Suddenly the silence was almost as deafening as the wind.
Moving again from behind the rocks, they were astounded.
The tornado had sucked all the oxygen away from the fire.
It was out!!!!
© 22 Dec 2010 For Tirzah
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.
SUDDENLY SOMETHING
Have you ever spent a night in a six by ten foot cell?
Well that’s where my FESTERING fears dwell
And no one with a prescription pad will write for a junkie born and bred
Did you ever wish more earth dwellers would all suddenly be dead
Look, there’s a pretty little miss, oh it’s daddy’s little girl
She dances on my feet when she starts to whirl
I told her to hold down her pleated skirt when she begins to twirl
My little girl with a smile and every tooth a perfect pearl
In silent supplication I’d sneak up to hear her prayer for that eve
I just wanted to hear daddy’s little girl pray and then I would leave
First she blessed the Almighty, his spirit and his soul
Making prayers come true was her sole and only goal
It could be a league of angels advising her on the right thing to do
Or sprites to make all things look like new
It might be little singing stars, from above came they for you
So your daughter can ignore an errant and off key dove pleased not to coo
She looks completely comfortable in a cloak and coat of cashmere
S**t, I’d trade an arm for her body no matter what she may wear
Whatever happens next is only though fate to be willed
And if you listen closely one can hear the breeze being stilled
Alas she grows nigh with hips swinging and lips moving
And then those loquacious lips emitted “would you care to have a tea”
I knew she could hear by heart from across the table
And then it was only silence, lovely her and me
“Look, me and that lady over there are wearing the same dress”
And so whatever she was going to do it may have to be under duress
“that lady has the a copy of my original,” and she was enraged
Something tells me your friends have never been caged
I’ve been penned up with a pen, pen pals and ten pencils, but only one isn’t too dull
You’d think out of all those pencils there’d be one sharp one to cull
So you’re daddy’s little girl no longer my sweet
But I’ll let y’all know when next we can meet
So when I first talked about being caged in a cell
if asked for the truth my story would be difficult to tell
Because each eye a gem, each tooth a pearl
So tell me sweetheart, are you still daddy’s little girl
© 2011.……free cee!
And s.b.---if you are gonna ask me, so where’s the nexus from one thing to another I
say go have another glass of vintage brandy.
She loved her forty-two year old boy, so completely,
He was her obedient little guy,
His actions never made her sigh or cry.
She was glad to fold his laundry ever so neatly.
The arrangement was not one hundred percent sweetly,
As his dad was not totally on board.
Tried to move junior out, on his own accord.
To a studio apartment over in Wheatley.
Mama thought she could keep her baby rather neatly,
But he ran off with a bossy looking dame.
Who was soon wearing the family’s good name.
Now they’re living with Mom, in her basement, discreetly.
Azure winds picks desert puffs off the canyon crests.
Corliss trots the edge of the plateau, shimmering red rock.
Over yonder the village hangs a sign, "No Good Corliss: Shoot On Sight."
When the years stretch on like an aching Texas sun,
Bad man Corliss will lay down his arms, his anger, even his grit.
Only the boy who rode the small calf will be left to pump the blood from his old heart.
Yard sales a hundred years later will sell 19th century memorabilia:
"I got this from my great-grandpa, said he got it from an old outlaw."
"Shoot, you don't say? Looks like the mark of a real cowboy."
I am totally invisible to you.
You have no idea who I am.
Because I'm wearing an old woman body,
but it's a joke because
I'm a 9-year-old-boy.
My husband knows me better than anyone.
Did you use your inhaler?
Uh-huh.
You did not!
Yes, I did! Tongue's out now.
I KNOW YOU're Lying!
Did you use your breathing machine?
Forgot I had one.
Did you remember to take your pill?
I lie. "yes."
"You're lying!"
I may be a 9-year-old-boy, but I'm in cognito.
We're the only two who know.
Except the grandchildren, and
hundreds of children I've taught in class.
And anyone who ever returned my first "hi".
Because once I know you, I love you and I
start giving you my 9-year-old-boy puppy love.
But we are the only ones who know.