This is the last poem on the history of Felicity, a person I know from correspondence with a friend abroad. No relation of mine.
In one year's time, I shall retire
What is there to look for?
Two of my daughters got married.
They live quite far from me.
Only Felicity remains, the middle one,
The one I loved most.
Mind you I paid for a grand wedding for both of them.
No favouritism would impede me from
Granting their wishes., but living far
I rarely see them especially as babies came
To brighten our humdrum life.
But where was Felicity? She spent so much time
At the hospital, except for our usual Sunday lunch.
Until one Sunday, a bomb blasted my brains.
Felicity had a fiancée, whom she invited
To our Sunday lunch. Was I angry? Confused?
He was a comely fellow, a brain surgeon to boot.
He promised to buy a house adjoining mine,
And a door would join both our houses.
Soon Felicity got married and what a wedding I paid.
They were the happiest couple on earth.
And soon she gave birth to a bundle of joy.
From that day on I did not act as a father
But a nanny for my lovely grandson.
Categories:
brain surgeon, appreciation, baby, blessing, marriage,
Form: Free verse
The lunch café
I`m not dying to die, but I like to weigh less
To be free of this old body this harness of humanity
It was not always so I was young once
And made a drama out of politics and sex
In a way, I simmered down when reaching middle-aged
Then a wanted a daughter by didn`t find a woman
Suitable, they were ti stupid, and I wanted my child to
Be a genius be, say a brain surgeon at 15
I met a doctor once we had much to drink I nearly made it
but she woke up and refused.
Then suddenly I was old had no future no higher grade
from the old people's home nearby they came and bath me
change wet sheets, tough women and that is ok,
they give me lunch not what I like; politely I throw the food
into the loo and flush than I drive to my café
where they know what I like.
Big table cloth down to the floor if Flora slips under there
and give me a blow-job ten minutes before lunch
it will be a perfect day
Categories:
brain surgeon, body, break up, butterfly,
Form: Bio
Starting A New Story
Now Ol' Ben is starting a new story
Something about him being in purgatory
And after he had caused so much static
Became a brain surgeon in pediatrics.
No one there wanted to be befuddled
And up nothing by him ever muddled
Patients never knew what he had meant
So he did decide to run for President.
Never understood what he said anyway
We had heard several politicians say
To go on further they found it hard to refuse
He must have a few missing loose screws.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Categories:
brain surgeon, humorous,
Form: Couplet
I think my teacher used to fancy me
Because on my work she gave me kisses
Instead of a tick
She'd keep me in the class after school to do lines
I wanted to be a brain surgeon
But I guess I was just too thick.
In break time
The bullies would break my pencils and my pens
And chase me around the playground and back again
I used to draw rude pictures
Of my teachers in my books
Until A teacher stood behind me
And took a look.
Always in trouble why was it always me
I din't mean to put frog spawn in the head masters bag
And red hot chilli in his tea
I couldn't wait for the bell to ring at half past three
Then I'd run home as fast as I could
To have my tea and watch TV.
The only thing I learned from school was
Girls were different and horrid
And how to fight
And I'd arrive home battle scared
With a muddy school uniform
Almost every night.
I came from the wrong side of town
And my future was ordained
I now write from my prison cell
And every days the same.
I never became a brain surgeon
Or married a beauty queen
Became a rock star
Or commander of a submarine.
I'm just me
And that's all I can be.
Peter Dome.copyright.2015 Oct.
Categories:
brain surgeon, appreciation, high school,
Form: Free verse
I'd like to be so witty,
But I don't know how it's done,
My brain's been on malfunction
And it doesn't seem to run.
I went to a gynecologist,
But he said, "Wrong door Gup,"
You definitely need a brain surgeon,
Your lump's a little further up."
Categories:
brain surgeon, funny,
Form: Rhyme
Should I become a brain surgeon
saving lives with skillful hands
maybe conduct an orchestra
on a podium I’ll stand
Pilot of a fighter jet
protecting our native land
Admiral of a navy fleet
the top guy who’s in command
I could become a professor
teaching those seeking to learn
Perhaps a great politician
solving issues of concern
For any of these to happen
I’ll have to let go of me
“When I let go of what I am
I become what I might be”
Categories:
brain surgeon, inspirational,
Form: Quatrain