I have a pocket in my vest,
Where tiny treasures go to rest.
A shiny pebble from the
playground,
A button that I thought was
neat,
And one small feather from a
nest.
Penny the penguin looked
everywhere in the ice for her
shiny coat button.
Her friend Leo the seal
helped her dig through a drift
of sparkling snow.
They found it hidden under a
bright blue shell, and Penny
cheered with joy.
we never found the missing button
or the head of the victim
Volume Button OCD
There once was a man (that would be me)
Whose TV must rest on even degree;
Twenty’s divine,
Twenty-two’s fine—
So I watch in silence till numbers agree.
Volume Button OCD
There once was a man (that would be me)
Whose TV must rest on even degree;
Twenty’s divine,
Twenty-two’s fine—
So I watch in silence till numbers agree.
At birth, Benjamin Button was old and gray.
He lived his life backward, or so they say.
Did he make fewer mistakes because
his past is what his future was?
If I could press a button—just one,
A brass lever humming in a midnight room—
And shudder back through history’s run,
I’d pause before the urge to bloom.
Would I fix the world?
Avert a war, mend a broken vow,
Convince a poet not to end his song—
Or simply wish I’d learned the cello by now?
Perhaps I’d find the seven-year-old me,
Ears crimson with playground shame,
Letting the bullies’ words root deep—
I’d kneel and whisper, “Your name is not their game.”
Or would I stand on the moon’s dust,
1969—Neil Armstrong’s boot suspended—
And yell, “Try a somersault!” just for the laugh,
So history books would end, “and then he upended.”
Maybe I’d just nudge Newton’s apple,
Make it miss his head by an inch,
And watch him wonder, “Did I imagine that?”
While gravity waits at the bench.
But here’s the truth:
Every itch to change the past
Is really a wish for mercy, for someone—anyone—
To say, “You did okay. At last.”
So I’d use my power not for grand designs
Or rewriting the universe’s rhyme.
I’d find a lonely moment—mine or yours—
And simply show up,
On time.
On Summer days an outie
like a flirtatious poutie.
My doc snipped just right.
Button pops; it’s out of sight.
Take a look-see; oops -
closed to troops.
It's so weird looking, and I've really grown to dislike it.
I remember as a child, how cool looking it was when it filled up with bath water
I would squeeze the skin around it together to completely hide it, it worked!
Growing up I've always had one of those Innie types
Unfortunately, these days my Innie has become an Outie
I guess my tummy being a bit ballooned, and my age, has something to do with that
I hate my new Outie; it pops out like a cherry on an ice cream cone
The only thing it really hurts is my feelings, it bothers me constantly
Geez, it looks like I've got a third nipple right smack in the middle of my tummy
Perhaps it's time for a diet, I want my Innie back!
Found one
shiny, gold, beautiful
picked it up
held closely
Twas going to contain it
in a jar
Knowing that button would go far
dropped it, sad to say
it stood up on its wheel side
there it rolls, miles away
A lovely button pops out in the summer sun
pick her up and she will bring you luck
Walks along the beach, a seashell spun
by the silk of the ocean, a little red truck
Coconut sensation a radio pinned upon the ear
the sky is blue, the sea is foaming
Snapshot memories, eating lobster on the peer
bathing suit strap lowered, barefoot roaming
The day after, seagull dreams ocean connections
I stitch her to my heart and she feels just right
Clothed in her light she is a special recollection
of me finding a shiny button, ... at the beach.
Scattered buttons on the floor
A cat named Buttons dying at my door
I think of what a button can do
Oh, Buttons the Cat, how I loved you
A button gone, my shirt askew
My life depends on buttons new
There come those moments when men cease to be men
And turn into dogs.
Dogs that bite and dogs that whine;
Dogs that lay
Panting
On top of you
And infect you with their spilling saliva
Dulled eyes full of starving thoughts of violence.
They’re all so charming until you see the rabies in their mouths
And their lips,
Docked by their hunger
Grinning like you can’t see the intentions in their bared gums
Or the savagery in their rolling tongue.
“You know what they say about dogs,” your mother’s voice echoes
“They’ll tell you that they love you,
But they’ll eat you when you’re dead.”
Phone screen starts to glow,
"Reply All" sends out the gaffe,
Now, career is done.
©bfa030325
Belly Button
All In is
the place my belly button was
born. He just won a
trip to
Exhausted Land.
All costs are paid for.
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