naming baby
never easy
difficult to choose one name
many others want to help
butting in when not needed
suggesting names you would never use
Daisy Lily Tulip Julep?
Muffin Scone Apple Banana Cornbread?
Mike Milton, Mannie, Maximillion?
A name is finally agreed upon
But it does not seem to fit this baby.
You leave the hospital with a name you thought of six minutes ago.
Butting heads, locking horns
the difficult child of three
if anyone was causing grief
It was always going to be me,
a stubborn chip
from a stubborn old block
never at ease we two
so I left and made a life for myself
far from the one you knew,
you pushed too hard to tie me down
I went and you felt betrayed,
you never saw my need to go
I could never see why you stayed
Butting heads, locking horns
the difficult child of three
if any one was causing grief
It was always going to be me,
the stubborn chip
and that stubborn old block
never at ease we two
so I left and made a life for myself
far from the one you knew,
you pushed too hard
to tie me down
I went and you felt betrayed
you never saw my need to go
I could never see why you stayed
One of those castoff items that we shove
Promptly deemed ‘junk’ upon a second glance.
I hid you on the highest shelves above
With a slim ‘someday’ of a second chance.
In solitude you stoically withstood
The cruel confinement you were sentenced to.
With dogged demeanour of solid wood
You kept your composure as if you knew.
Oft butting heads over your checked acts,
My late dad and his dad battled so well.
Though I delved not in your strategic tracts,
My grandsons set you free from jail cell spell.
That chessboard - centrepiece I now hold dear,
Your pieces shine, each one is carved with love.
When boys butt heads I smile in silent cheer,
Imagine dads are smiling from above.
Artifacts may lose temporary trend,
Then triumph tenfold in the timely end.
A moment when opinions soar and butting heads begins
With an impulsive cognizance of the mother instinct
In physique and psyche, with her lambs, she's lovingly linked.
Her head-butting, as though she looks furious, does not hurt.
Her bleat is rhythmic, like a harmonious bass concert.
Like a mom lauds her kids, to lambs the ewe show her love.
As human spirits, is an ewe's soul, sent from above?
Cultures, religions, histories, and theologies praise
Of her flesh, blood, and veins, the science artfully portrays
Symbol of life that flows from human-divine alertness
Isn't there, in an ewe, a unique peacefulness?
Harmony of wily innocence and witty shrewdness
O ewe! You're a magnum opus of divine fullness.
On looking through the window
A humorous sight I'd seen,
A quartet of lively ewes
Were playing Tag on the green.
Leaping over twisted logs,
Around the rocks they skipped,
Sweeping round the bendy field.
Down and up they dipped.
Butting heads and locking horns,
Bumping each other in the side -
( I think if I was one of them
I'd be terrified! )
At times it looked violent.
But it's their way of having fun.
What a joy to watch these adult sheep
Baa and play and run!
Bygones are again beginning.
Big Nose Kate and Doc Holliday
bang and toss China plates,
bothering my ears with their
blooming Southern inhospitality.
Bedbugs, I never want em,
because they bite in the night
bedsits' in Birmingham Alabama
big red marks on my bum.
Bad dream now
beetles crawling up my legs,
brown ones,
Brobdingnagian bugs.
Bangladeshi late-night dinner
blighted the bathroom a bit.
Bored with these bloody bygones
butterfingers strum banjo blue notes.
Brad Pitt hates that redneck hokey,
but I don't care.
The chances, remote
that a dog and a goat
should strike up a friendship this way.
It’s important that you know
that Broccoli and Juno
spend hours at play every day.
Now Juno’s a force
as big as a horse;
her long white hair flows like a mane.
The size of her paws
would sure give one cause
to give that dog plenty of rein.
Sir Broccoli’s a nubian
who loves to be butting in;
he’s never far out of the mix.
When he lowers his head,
he fills them with dread,
but Juno, she gets in her licks.
They both get to snorting
with gleeful cavorting,
and you wonder if one will get hurt.
Two birds of a feather
In all kinds of weather,
lying side by side there in the dirt!
Shining in the distance was a pinata shaped like round bubble
A skinny limber boy yelled to his friend, “I will hit it on the double!”
The friend was watching star lizard twist on mountain with his curly tail.
Chuck, a skunk fox hybrid brought in bits and tatters of the morning mail.
Larry, an unassuming chipmunk tossed around his ruffled lace umbrella.
Dorothy, the girl in the slip dress told Larry he was an interesting fella.
Chickadee was fearful of the palm with the leather chaps and third eye.
Woe is me said the oak tree, I agree. I might even have to cry.
Cartoon petroglyphs rounded out the twerking tree tribe nicely.
Artist capturing everything complained, “does it have to be precisely?”
A turquoise lady bug who was butting in rolled her eyes and said.
You might leave out the chickadeel he is so still, I think he’s dead.
Wads of Bazooka Joe under my seat
cigarette smoke in the john
Butting in line for some 'mystery meat'
giggling at boys with a 'hard-on'
This was the kind of mischief we made ~
before handguns replaced baseball card trades
Lonely broken hearts, in stride
Lady Montague ---
She drank to life awaiting death
in runs Majesty's breath
never speaking of where she's been
Hamlet fed up leaves the scene,
as Captain Black bends his knee
for the Queen who embraces Mr.
Beam in Marches ferociously
little Putin -- bombing everyone.
Lenin looks up as a flock o' geese
inspecting the sun and screams,
"Russia's end so soon!"
Spider Man sinks his silk
upon the violent stupid tongue
arising from the ground says
invisible man,
"who tried butting me while I went
down upon wonder woman!"
Humanity's self-demise!
:: 04.12.2022 ::
I like my poem the way it is
But thanks for your suggestion.
I do not plan to use it but
It brings to mind a question –
Is unsolicited advice
A help or just annoying?
Perhaps it’s good if someone’s spirits
Are in need of buoying.
Or in a case I read about,
An expert made a sighting
Of a mole on someone’s neck
Where cancer cells required fighting.
In certain cases, butting in
May help a situation
And those on the receiving end
May feel appreciation…
But in a poem, a typo’s
A correction that it's needing
Yet all advice beyond that
Many poets won’t be heeding.
My poetry laced with eccentricity
words lie dead where they wanT
Hiding lines Inside the
Next trippping words
to watch their pretty tu
-------------------------------m
----------------------------------- ----ble
using.'s to.........pause
scrawling with ink dipped claws
is fall ing apart
so bad
i have a membership card
pain was always a pleasure
wanna feel the numb
can i ask you two questions
the first being can i ask you a question
what's after too late
head butting fate
sorry for the things i haven't done
yet is what you call a yeti with no eye
My young baby roo I love and protect
He's a bit of a kicker and a fidget
He lives safely inside my kangaroo pouch
With stronger kicks felt, ouch! I cry out.
As little ones do, he won't keep very still
For my body ache pains, the vet pops me a pill
Roo pushes and twists while awake or asleep
Power kick gifts, from his little long feet.
High jumper or boxer he could turn out to be
Up pops his head, his new world to see
Ouch! another kick; again to my ribs
A sudden spring jump, he's out from his crib.
Jumping, exploring, very much excited
In-out play; then back in pouch basket
Not one for climbing in or out gently
Always kick butting, my poor sore belly.
A grown boy now, he'll be leaving home soon
No more protection from mums tum cocoon
My ouch in my pouch, my baby roo joey
If human he'd win; gold Olympic jump glory.
"O" Contest, New or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsor Constance La France
Written 23.09.21
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