Old age is
Legs made of crumbs, fingers becoming twigs
uneven floors and squeeze toys becoming hazardous
clusters of friends becoming spirits on the wing
all the others squat in attics or linger in the eaves.
If lucky enough, you get to hug a loved one once a week.
Old age is
a favorite hymn fleeing one note at a time
playground giggles skipping youth back into the light...
Chasing a sunrise after shuffling from the chains of night.
old age is a star and firefly slowly becoming one.
Old age is
pretending there's a piece of this world that still cares.
Reaching for a bowlegged tabby that's no longer there.
It's a silver-haired orphan opening another cold can of alone...
A universe of humanity becoming a Hawkins black hole.
Memories like lemon drops slipping from life's crystal bowl.
A trickster stripping away grace and tact long before you're gone.
Grandma Wisdom once said, "Old age isn't for sissies".
A cold rain is coming; I can feel it deep in my bones."
There is a legend of a cowboy down in Texas
To whom they give the sobriquet of Pecos Bill.
It's said he rooted and he tooted
As across the plains he scooted,
Stetsoned, jeaned, bowlegged, and booted,
Pursuing cows and wooing gals
As was his skill.
The story goes one day while Bill was out romancing,
A cyclone came and rudely whisked the gal away.
He hopped atop the thing to ride it,
Quickly lassoed and hogtied it,
Then none the worse for wear and tear and rough foreplay,
Out stepped the gal,
And Pecos Bill had saved the day.
Now, legends often tend to get a bit inflated,
And this one here is no exception to the rule.
Some say it's too exaggerated,
I say it's well imaginated.
Like alimony oilmen often pay their exes,
Things are always so much bigger down in Texas.
Of course, it's hogwash, rubbish, bunk,
And yet how often have I thunk
That the tale of Pecos Bill is kinda cool.
I love to go swimming
With bowlegged women
The kind comes from riding
Down here at the farm.
There’s cycles of motion
They’ll cause a commotion
The Steve Miller Band says
Will keep you from harm.
If money, you’re tracking,
Won’t be a shellacking,
A nominal egg that won’t
Lose you an arm.
No riots or looting,
They like to go shooting,
It’s part of a package
Of old country charm.
Bowlegged belligerent bellowing Boxcar Betty
Rarely rose to the ripe, refreshed or ready
She always had an exasperatingly idiotic excuse
To cavort and converse on Charlie’s Chicken caboose
Eddie’s Enthusiastic Engine was trite and tired.
Of these two freeloaders, quarrelsomely quagmire.
He wanted both Betty and Charlie off his train.
For they both were a challenge, and a horrible strain.
Boxcar Betty dug in her claws, determined to stay.
She loved riding the rails with Charlie every day.
Eddie had to keep Charlie Chicken too of course.
A train’s caboose is imperative as legs on a horse.
Ever walk behind a bowlegged person
You see the path ahead without exertion
The pitfalls ahead
Are nothing to dread
If you don't let his dangly thing be a diversion
Your mama said my mama
was blacker than burnt white toast
My daddy said your daddy
was a vanilla, rice cake loving Oriole
Your brother said my brother
was a jive, jitterbugging jigaboo
My sister said your sister
was a nappy head, big lip snaggletooth
Your best friend said my best friend
was an empty can of dummy orange juice
My best friend said your best friend
was a cuckoo for Coco Puffs fruit loop
I heard you said that I
was a lazy, waging the tail barf boy
You heard that I said you
was a bowlegged, cross-eyed Barbie toy
As children
we were taught that stick and stones
may break our bones
But words could never hurt
Good advice though that may be,
we know better ...
Words do hurt people feelings deeply
Your mama said my mama
was blacker than burnt white toast
My daddy said your daddy
was a vanilla, rice cake loving Oriole
Your brother said my brother
was a jive, jitterbugging jigaboo
My sister said your sister
was a nappy head, big lip snaggletooth
Your best friend said my best friend
was an empty can of dummy orange juice
My best friend said your best friend
was a cuckoo for Coco Puffs fruit loop
I heard you said that I
was a lazy, waging the tail barf boy
You heard that I said you
was a bowlegged, cross-eyed Barbie toy
As children
we were taught that stick and stones
may break our bones
But words could never hurt
Good advice though that may be,
we know better ...
Words do hurt people feelings deeply
Ever walk behind a bowlegged person
You see the path without any exertion
The pitfalls ahead
Are nothing to dread
If his dangly thing isn't a diversion
Ever walk behind a bowlegged person
You see the path ahead without any exertion
The pitfalls ahead
Are nothing to dread
If you don't let his dangly thing be a diversion
© Jack Ellison 2016
There was once an old cowpoke named Meyers
For decades he'd rode an old hoss named Squires
He'd roped steers and fixed fences
Enjoyed beer and square dances
And was bowlegged as a pair of pliers
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
white roe suspended
tad poles squirm through their plaster
bowlegged frogs spring
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.