Best Short Pants Poems
They sit in the long grass
Cuddled up to smooch
She smiles at him sweetly’ saying
You can look but not touch
He looks so dejected
That’s not what he wants
He is hungry inside
His breath comes in short pants
He tries to coax her
With a nibble on her ear
But she’s having none of it
He’s going without, I fear.
Bet your minds are a quiver
Nudge nudge wink wink
But it’s only the sandwiches
He’s after
I Think???
I have a grey shirt, grey short pants and grey socks.
The grey school with its grey toilet blocks and grey nuns
made my mother buy them,
which was understandable, because folks like us
were supposed to only buy grey clothes, and live in grey towns
for fear of going color-blind.
If ever we had understood
that the grey faces that ruled us
were all working for the Ministry of Greyness,
we would have run.
The Queen, the B.B.C. and all our betters
felt that too much color in our lives
might lead us to seek impossible rainbows,
and so, we were taught to know our place
on the color chart of life.
At ten, mum bought me a pair of long blue jeans.
I felt like I could ride a horse, or rock and roll
as good as Elvis (he was an American who lived far away
in a world of razzle-dazzle grace).
The girl next door, without prior warning,
took off her long grey dress and put on
a red short skirt dotted with colorful butterflies.
Neither of us being grey that day,
we gravitated together dangerously.
Dad warned us not to be too flashy,
but we went to the park anyway.
As we walked in a hand-held gentleness.
We saw the flowers turn their blooms to us.
We knew then that we were in an English poem
a poem that had never been grey,
but was forced into shapeless muted tones
by those who kept all the words to that English poem
for themselves.
~ GREEN JELLO ~
A fellow from an archipelago
Puts on caps and hats made of green jello
Doesn't care what you think
His short pants shocking pink
Wears lipstick and rouge too ~ bright hot yellow
~ THE TOOTH FAIRY ~
The cutest girl in the monastery
Is planning to become a Tooth Fairy
She hides teeth in her bra
Young boys cry "Ooh-la-la"
Saying their prayers eagerly, quite merry
I wanted to wear my best outfit to school
So I went in my closet and stood on a stool
Looking for my socks, I had a special pair
I kept looking, but couldn't find them anywhere
Bright ones and dark ones, three in a pack
But the ones I wanted , were purple and black
I found them, so I didn't wear polkadot or green
Wore them with short pants, so that they would be seen
Finally when ready I headed for the bus
Mom made me late with all of her fuss
I ran really fast in hopes I'd catch up
Unfortunately tripping, on my little brown pup
Down I went with force on both knees
It seems I have a kinda clumsy disease
I got up and wiped, the dust off my pants
and suddenly was doing my gotta tinkle dance
So I ran to my neighbor "Please, I gotta go pee!"
Mrs. Smith said "sure, down the hall at door three."
Past her I ran, by her picture of Flipper
Into the bathroom but couldn't open my zipper
The rest was embarrassing I hung my head low
As the wetness on my pants, started to grow
Around me I wrapped, a towel of great size
Leaving the bathroom, I couldn't look in her eyes
She hugged me and said, "it's an okay thing."
"I have the perfect pair, of cool pants to bring."
She said they were magic, with a button fly
And could only fit a fun little guy!
After she let me wash up, I put on the pants
She said with them, I wouldn't do the tinkle dance
Purple and black with perfect matching socks
Boy Mrs. Smith that woman really rocks
With my new pants, I made it to the school
But before I went, I thanked her for being cool
Kindness is special it made things A okay
I thought of her, when I went to play
A bit of kindness turned my day bright
A friend is an angel who makes things allright
So in art class I made her a special card
Me in my special pants and us both laughing hard!
The first game of spring
It was the first game of the year.
The go lumpducks vs the hot rugcats.
On 1st base for the hot rugcats is: Tiny judy mad cat
On 2nd is Flash betty furball
At short stop is licky slip maybell
On 3rd three leg piggy polecat
Rt field Cassy cool cat
Cfield Tiffy Mudcat
Lt field Vicky short pants Field cat.
Pitching Wild arm Jayne legcat
Catching Junkcat Kitty
The game is cancel due to Rats on the field the team is hard to control
A real mess the lumpducks left after the first rat was tore apart.
But that's your line up for tomorrows game.
Old are they; those fables
Green they seemed so idle,
murrain of theirs still but
stand.
Odd how all of us prattle
Lads indeed we still are
longing hearty; throstles
songs sang_we all are.
Old; we wot these birds
their silent screams,
their feathers whim;
Nwunwani ya malena
oh swain to boyish manner.
Odd these tricks;futile
that laugh; humor felt
fainly graft; lusty marks
brat indistinct;two of these.
Old indeed friends many,
lunatics, lovers, poets;
to me:days where fine
the faces, the smiles;
the best_my closest: my mother.
Odd_history of man's fall
from glory; temporal but
lowly, to the swam of folks
indulged in folksy fables
and wind drought eagles.
Old the age of time,
if he were to count her down
feast_lamps shone_indwelling clans;
of rocks as bread and
lands as fields of gold.
Odd these slippers_my
lullaby, the gentle embrace
of firm support and fashionable
hey, hello; nice shoes,
intrigue in loops.
Old my looney_little mate
from lands only of myth,
imagined places: those
created films_my pixel pinky.
Odd my interest in single
females,of simple yarn and
lowly glory that's too fragile for;
lollipops_kisses and pecks like
v award winds.
Old these melodies of Bome_yes
bome; these loving tides of
beautiful countenance rose
as roses at noonday;as
waves at water pools.
Odd these Irish boys of Ireland_
Scottish accents in American films
faked acts of Hitler in short pants,
Black dark doves; the purity of beauty
Africa.
Old yes odd these remarkable words:
these watery lines_the days.
So early on a Sunday morn
Our little Boy Blue was born.
Dad nearly blew his hat.
When Blue was born, Dad said with scorn
“On my son, no short pants are worn.”
Mom said, “We’ll see ‘bout that.”
April 18 2012
The World Of Illusion
Just Like a bird in a guilded cage we are all
supposed to be free ? But are we really
free ? The answer is No !, in Australia we
are compelled to vote, we are fined if
we don't vote, as our governments make
laws that control our lifestyle, when life
was created by God he deemed all of us
were born equal, that being the case why
do we need a leader to govern as we are
all as good as each other, laws create
problems in society, and corrupts our
lifestyles. When society, tells us what we are
permitted to do and even what we say and
wear, is that freedom ?, the answer is No,
we live in a society were we are forced to
accept rules on our personal appearance,
it was alright for women to wear skirts and
men to wear long pants, and boys to wear
short pants all in the name of tradition
and this is dictating our lives, if we fail to
comply we are discriminated by society and
looked upon as anti socialists which in some
extremes can lead to civil unrest and world wars,
we are all prisoners of tradition and government
laws, we do things to please everyone except
ourselves and that is selfishness that needs to
change as people need to wear and look as they
wish. here are some examples these days women
can wear pants and men even wear skirts, they
are called kilts that Irish and Scottish soldiers
would wear into battles. Makeup only woman
wear allowed to wear, yet in very early times
men would wear make up, back in the Egyptian
dynasties. It was also the same in indian tribal
customs only men wore war paint, but it has
all changed. If a man wore lipstick in the street
today he would be laughed at as being gay or
a drag queen, yet circus clowns have done this
in there work amusing children, even actors
use it with no incriminations, so why can't
men and women have a say in what they
wear and how they dress and have nothing
said about it, if we were truly free we could
do all of this, but as long as discrimination
rules society we will always be forced to obey
tradition and follow the rules that suits a select
few and not the majority of the world we live in.
This explains my thesus that we are just like
that bird in a guilded cage, we seek freedom
but can never really be free. This is the order
of our society today.
The cooking oil ran out
Before the dough began to fry
She took the fishgut out
And broast it empty till it dry
Then making smaller cakes
She potted them crispy again
On medium flame, flakes
Of brown, the royal taste remain.
When the pants were shabby
This grown boy saw her cut the leg
And with competency
Placed a seamless patch, I couldn't beg
Nothing newer for pride.
I wore my short pants out of tall
With a warm smile inside
For the most industrious of all
She cured wounds with the sod
Mixed in with a little spittle,
Made soap from ackee pod,
And her meat with spanish needle.
She shined the floor with fat
From melted candle, boiled water
With glass and sun; her chat
Was in prayer, her drink laughter.
Nothing was wasted there
Were mother kept us in her flock
Her folks ways did she share
Through proverbs; her faith tough as rock.
They say turn hand, make it
Turn hand and make fashion, my dear
The unconquered spirit
Of my mother, forbids the world a tear.
THE POMPOUS POMMEY WAS GOOD THEN
AND JUST AS GOOD FOR MAN NOW
FOR COURTESY AND CHIVALRY WERE CODES
TO LIVE BY, WHEN DISCIPLINE AND ORDER RULED THE DAY
AMONG ADULTS AND KIDS AT PLAY
WHEN CHILDREN SHOULD BE SEEN
AND NOT HEARD, OR IS IT THE OTHER WAY ROUND
AND SIX O'CLOCK WAS SUPPER TIME
NO EATING BEFORE GRACE WAS SAID
AND WHOLE FAMILIES SAT AT THE TABLE'S FARE
REQUEST POLITELY TO LEAVE THE TABLE
ONLY SPEAK WHEN SPOKEN TO, WITH ADULTS AROUND
AND TABLE MANNERS AND ETIQUETTE
WAS PRACTISED ALWAYS TO SHOW YOUR KIND
AND THANK YOU'S AND PLEASE'S WERE THE NORM
RESPECT FOR YOUR ELDERS RULED OVERALL
WITH DON'T DO AS I DO, DO ONLY AS I SAY
STAND UP WHEN A LADY ENTERS THE ROOM
WHEN BOWS AND CURTSY'S WERE IN DEMAND
AND BREEDING AND CULTURE COUNTED MORE
WHEN FOREBEARS WERE LORD POMPOUS AND SIR MUCKUS
AND PANTALOONS AND BOWS WERE FOR GIRLS
AND SHORT PANTS AND BOW-TIES FOR THE BOYS
WITH SOCKS PULLED UP TO JUST BELOW THE KNEES
OH YES! PLUM PUDDINGS AND WELSH RARE-BIT WERE THE TREATS.
D. Trump
we dumped
Ted Cruz
you lose
Cuomo
should go
Newsom's*
gruesome
Biden's
hidin'
Faucci's
grouchy
Meghan's
ragin'
Harry's
scary
Queen Mom's
aplomb
Prince Charles
just snarls
ISIS
crisis
Iran
new bomb
Kim Jong
King Kong
Bit coin
come join
T-bonds
abscond
Oil price
up twice
Brit Spears
cry tears
Doc Seuss
cut loose
Big Dance*
short pants
Sis Jean*
Prom Queen
______________________________________________________
*Notes:
Newsom - California governor whom voters are trying to recall
The 'Big Dance' is a nickname for the NCAA basketball tourney,
which begins this week.
Sis Jean is Sister Jean, a 101 year-old nun who works at Loyola
University, which made the 'Big Dance' for the second time in the
last four years. At age 98, she accompanied the team to the 'Dance,'
sat on the bench, hugged and cheered players, even gave them
advice(!) and Loyola came made it to the Final Four! Wow! This year,
she's going back again, at 101! What a gal!
Abnormality
God knows I don’t want to be normal
I want to stick out in a crowd
You have everyone look at me
And have them ask, “what in the hell is that”
I never want to wear a suit and tie
I want to go out in short pants and a muscle shirt
Black in color with a big dragon head on the front
I want to go into Macca’s and order a Whopper
And drink a forty year old New Coke
While eating a whole case of Twinkies
I never want to comb my hair or trim my beard
I want to wear glasses Elton John would turn down
I want to listen to the William Tell Overture
With lyrics added from Vanilla Ice
Maybe drive the wrong way on the freeway
Or hitchhike in the middle of the road
God knows I don’t want to be normal
I just want to be me
With all my quirks and strangeness
So accept me for who I am
Because I am not going to ever change
No matter who or what
I will always be the best me I can be
Surely, it will rain
The rigged erosion site
Will yield up the graves
With the mangled duffers
We must see
I cannot stop the rain
The cast is already overused
The thunder lines have marked
Out themselves in the sky
Bidding for time
Oh! it will surely rain
It will rain the hard beetles
Resplendent at the castle
Their strange tangles with
Cruelty and promise
Will evaporate
About our virgins
They lost their seals
They walked provokingly
In short pants and bustiers.
Rods of derision pierced
And so they should walk
As they like.
Before it rains, My Dear
Goats will lose their shame
But they must never be allowed
To scud to the rock, and
Ridicule quest for an account.
After the rains, My Dear
The survivors will be happy
The losers will be happy
The spectators will be happy
They would all have learnt
From the rains.
Short-Pants Potentate
Inferno of a summer day
Mother’s dozing
Tommy, tiny, three,
paring knife in hand
tiptoes out, flops
short-pants potentate
upon the sidewalk sunny,
operates on ants
Donal Mahoney
I will very very probably do it again
Anyone who knows me and has a brain
Can see that Biden's old and lame
Now's the time to reignite my reign.
MAGA folks love me and want me back
They need our country set on track
For what I have all others lack
Of running stuff they know sweet jack.
As to DeSantimonius, Short Pants Pence and Chippy Cheney
That they'll burn out I'll wage you money
I'm the one that's smart and funny
My golden touch makes all things sunny.
So once these midterms are sown up
I'll squeeze lame Joe just like a bug
Show the world that he's a dud
For I’m the man, I know it in my gut.