frost on winter roses
mother’s adult bibs arrive
in time for supper
she is bedridden
ninety first birthday today
both joy and sorrow
Mom remains stoic
from greatest generation
to funeral plans
Thirty years a nurse
hospice nurses now caring
for her ~ life cycles
Academicians …
masticating and
grinding their ‘truth’
Spewing out
what they would have us swallow
in gagging choking egotism
Regurgitating it back
in the toxic chunder
of a narcissistic reality
Papering the walls
of modern thought
with the bibs of their retching
As they hide within
their ivory towers
—festering in mass
(St. David’s Pennsylvania: September, 2023)
There's nothing better than a steak,
Providing it's spiced with care.
Whether ribeye, filet, or strip,
Just make mine medium rare.
Then you have your feathered friends,
Either turkey, duck or chicken.
You can bake or crispy fry,
The Colonel says it's finger lickin'.
And don't forget about the swine,
Barbequed chops, loins, or ribs.
If you slather it with sauce,
You should always wear your bibs.
So meat me in St. Louis,
If you have some time to kill.
You best believe before you leave,
You're sure to get your fill.
Some forty years back, in Time Magazine,
Saw I a narrow missing of bald head
By the bullets from Hinckley’s magazine
He had reserved for Ronald Reagan’s head,
Save that they had agreed about his ribs:
If Cowboy still lived, talk like babes with bibs…
The missed lucky skull that of a press man
I still remember bald, some kind of pan,
The Guy having bent down to catch his note,
Able to fast do so in a thick coat…
God! It must have been some sacred jotter
And this it proved against shorts that totter…
Either Satan forget his script and ways
Or God had sought to lengthen his days;
Still the jotter was his damned rescuer,
When Hinckley had wanted to heads skewer,
The jotter qualifying for the archives;
If you asked me: Deliverers’ Archives!
sewing elf with his knitted socks and his crocheted bibs
sits among the wild flowers, counting neonate nursery cribs.
stitching up mattress covers and fluffy pillows for the young.
he has a keen sense of humor and laughs like a beetle dung.
I could lie twas Salma
Who made I edit my note
A love note it was a rem1
Reminder with a Coordinate
Coordinates do come home
I pleaded heard turning into ice
Starlet breezing without a care
Re-ignited the flames of drama
Mtanga an African love story..
At the stadium of heroes Gee Tanga
Led you the way in a Month of love
Kaayan did I utter your name the 4thM
Kensoul you make trainers dreams of No
Of Mo love M1 when all are beautiful Wooo
Aromas of well cooked Warriors of colour
#aKFS peace day
All K's Forces are Special
NGO Na Ngao ya kidavida
Volt and Coat of Arms..
Isn't a Verso genxermais pillar
Not to be found at Kemets Border..
Champe for a cause..
Cast aside were you
TanaTeru Glory of Sion..
#RiuKeyLifeBirthings
An eruption magmation
A living machine eyes all around
Who saw The Lord of Host
Twas You MyKinsman Isaiah son Of Amoz
Who will help us but US
Inspire with a punch held high
As them kids cover up in Bibs
Am a GJDeon Arma Water Bird..
#Staring at the scorching Sun
#UshakaBayete2022 codeZed 254
Dreaming of one's heart desire nostalgic
Cadillac reckless on the
Edge of the summer solstice
Wholahooping daze
Nostalgic craze
Blankets of flirtatious relaxation
Best of Jazz on 1966 model radio
The season has summoned its
Brightest and its prettiest floral pollution.
A serene water front and barbecue
Beef ribs beefing up the bibs
An ordinary picnic constitution
Sweet finger tips and all day
Laughter trips.
She sits in her old four door car
Jittery as a stick shift
All day every day
An old fashion woman
Smoking a pack of Camels
With all the windows rolled up
Goldfish
Staring out
Blowing bubbles in her dirty bowl
To the trolling park people
Who step from their slick driverless SUVs
Into the woods
With their dogs properly leashed
If only they knew
The poetry she was writing
Rhymes flicked away
To her spy ashtray
Who are they
Anyway?
No better than her
As she
Hides
From her lost job gonner kids and Fentanyl bibs
Q will show her the way
She ain’t so alone
With her hours of boredom
And Trump Putin and Xi
Khamenei
Saved like treasure
In her crumpled hands
She’s noting the march of our deaths
Every day
Out here in the open
Not the other way around
As I had intended for this poem
There’ll be a time
Soon
When she unleashes her door
And gets out
Breathes the same air
Armed by the unholy words
Take back what is yours.
Bibs on babies are funny because they look like Ginsberg lace.
If they are embellished, and they are dainty for Ruthie or Grace.
When plastic they might be tidy, but they might break out baby’s neck.
By the sixth child, they no longer wear bibs. You say what the heck.
Let's SEE What's in the laundry hamper?
" One a soiled cloth diapers
a fierce icky stinkysocks
some noxious obnoxious unclean towels
horrid stinking under-shorts
unappetizing horrible awful grubby baby bibs
Oh, my some mephitic nauseating obscene panties.
Musty nauseating odious under shirts
soiled squalid uncleanly pants and jeans
awful dirty filthy blouses and dresses
guess I’d better presoak and presort some of this mess???
9/27/19
Written by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
The necktie was brought into play
to keep your shirt clean every ay
but they got expensive
elaborate
too good to be bibs
too classy and designer, too costly
to eat with spare ribs.
Dear Mo, my Ottawa sweetie, told me of this phrase
She and Gramma used when they spilled coffee in the morning haze
Instead of bosoms, they'd emit
This phrase “Booby Bibs”
Natural "quicker picker uppers" for sopping coffee up in a daze
Woman
legs ~ breasts ~ thighs
hips ~ lips ~ eyes
Man
strength ~ muscled ~ arm
masculine ~ grit ~ charm
Children
fun ~ run ~ toys
playful ~ girls ~ boys
Baby
cradles ~ diapers ~ cribs
sleepers ~ cryers ~ bibs
Grandparents
canes ~ glasses ~ walkers
old ~ wise ~ talkers
Family
fathers ~ sons ~ brothers
daughters ~ sisters ~ mothers
Six Word Couplet Series Encore Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
10/10/2018
In our town lived a crazy old crone
with no spouse, and her kids were all grown.
Once frightened by rats,
she bought a few cats,
so no longer did she live alone.
As it turns out, the cats were so nice
that they wouldn’t attack even mice!
They wanted instead
to only be fed
yummy foods like her chicken fried rice.
At her table, the old lady set
two tall stools. Yes, that woman would let
the two cats dine with her,
wearing bibs so their fur
from the sauces would never get wet.
The old woman now lives happily
knitting clothes for her cat “family.”
While asleep on her bed,
the cats purr on her head
while the rats in the house still run free.
Jan. 14, 2018 For Line Gauthier's 'CRAZY CAT LADY: RHYME' Contest
The quality is not the best,
The choices not too many,
But it's the place to go to save
The so-called "pretty penny."
The aisles are filled with housewares,
Wrapping paper, cards and toys.
You'll find candy and cosmetics,
Socks and bibs for girls or boys.
Decorations for a party,
School supplies and bags of snacks;
There are sheets and towels and blankets,
Even underwear on racks.
I would hate to have to shop there,
Though so many people do.
Still, it's hard to pass one by without
A stop to see what's new.
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