playing chicken with couch potato
bring home the bacon with two peas in a pod
in a pickle with forbidden fruit
full of beans with egg on my face
go bananas with sour grapes
cream of the crop with dangling carrots
cool as a cucumber with apple of my eye
crying over spilt milk with raising a toast
spill the beans with cheesy jokes
Woof
Translated: small package
Four legs, four paws, big jaws,
fancy ears and a long tail.
My dog is from the pound.
What did I expect?
He is six foot at the shoulder,
Reads books, on Saturday nights.
But, sadly he won’t eat generic brand fudge cycles.
Only the best bunny ice-cream will do.
He was tiny really, just a bitty thing.
Slowly, slowly… Overnight! Life became all too real.
We laugh and talk, and it does not matter, now…
I work two jobs to bring home the bacon, and eggs and
chow and a cow, and, but still.
The surprise of my life, was a furry friend,
that gives more than I can.
God loves dogs,
big, and tiny, whiny small,
all.
Deer stroll in mists that disguise the ridges
Creating a heavenly peace that soothes
This feels spiritual, not religious
And the heart does go where the spirit moves
A bald eagle glides across naked limbs
Tries to discover a new home in them
The soft feel of this memorizes hymns
Brings images of ancient Bethlehem
Squirrels move about collecting acorns
Saving up their winter’s staple today
Hard work knows how to bring home the bacon
Their toil reminds me of how we should pray
Creatures of fall know how to show us all
Our God’s world is vast so I feel so small
September 27, 2019
Autumn sonnet Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
Lioness mother
Creeps into the killing fields
She's got cubs to feed
Her hunger unslakable
And she'll bring home the bacon
Date written and posted: 06/03/2018
Mr Cliché was known for sleeping in his socks,
Where, he dreamt of thinking outside the box.
For breakfast as always he ate rather plain
Just porridge as he never went against the grain.
Sometimes when dressing he would mumble and tut,
Making sure, to never put the shoe on the other foot.
When he looked in the mirror he called himself a winner
Then searched the fridge to see what to cook for dinner.
He often laughed about all the money he was makin’
As he ran to the butchers to bring home the bacon.
He glanced at his reflection and gave a little smile,
Deciding right there that he would go that extra mile.
He stated the obvious when the opportunity presented
As his colleagues nodded as if they were demented.
To busy to stop and to smell the flowers and roses,
As its much more important to strike the right poses.
When one day a child asked a question as plain as his nose
Did he base his life on the emperor’s invisible clothes?
No they are Armani you silly child what else would I wear
I look good in this suit and what others think I don’t care.
“Zoom” said the child as she waved her hand and walked away
We all die in the end Mister and that’s the real cliché.
Boredom
Every single day I do the same stuff
I am shaken early in the morning
My days start already boring and rough
In the traffic, I listen to the honk horning
I want to stop and yell: Enough!
Oh, my feelings, my brain, it is storming
I keep thinking of some guff
but like a robot, I keep performing
I won't take another rebuff
I'd like to feel more at ease
and I have to bring home the bacon
there are so many people I have to please
I find myself alone and forsaken
Society is somehow a disease
For another day, I am waitin'
they will come, days like these
Same stuff if I am not mistaken
I will search for something to appease
all despair that I've been taken ?
Oh! for the wet warm South Westerly
after the cold white North Easterly leaving
sparkling rain on each window pane South Westerly.
At night this rain paints all inanimate things a vivid
hue, while humans look care worn, some even sickly,
no longer New Year spick and span but of a drearier hue.
New snow in the Wolds as yeast in England's east, another
feast for children and adults unable to bring home the bacon.
Drains turn into ice topped streams that underneath show
water swimming like eels in a race to breed. Across the North Sea
diagonally from The Wash, heavy snow is falling in the Norge
fjords like so many Vikings on a raid for plunder, trade or conquest.
The Old Ways Worked
Oh 50 years passed by with the flick of an eye
and our people got so soft don't you see
Back in the fifties people worked oh so hard
just to bring home the bacon for ye
Well the machines oh they came and the work it all went
till there was nothing to do don't you see
it was better back then when the kids had respect
for their elders who sired them with glee
Oh the people grow fat for there's nothing to do
no crowbar or shovel for ye
No sweat of the brow of a days work well done
and a cold beer at sunset for me….
Minority groups have stuffed up the world
full of great ideas so they think
So now the kids are out of control
anarchy comes to the bar for a drink…
Oh I got the cane at school yes too right..
teachers got some respect just from me..
I didn't steal cars & didn't do time
and I’m drugs and alcohol free?
……..Don Johnson
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