Ruc Pascal Comeau
she named him after the place
where her great great grand uncle
was born.
She said he was the inventer of the
"clinchmens Clasp" a large
button that secures the front
of a ruffed shirt. He and his son
invented the thing because the
mans mistress threatened to tell
his wife of his misdeeds if he didn't
take in to town to buy a new dress.
Well the fella got one of his friends
to make her a dress but the top
sagged in all the wrong places.
The fella went and got a Brass mould
and made the 'clasp' and polished it to
a shine, to appease the woman. It
was said to have caused alot of attention
at the parties wear she wore
the dress.The dress was said to flow
into the night and the clasp gave it the greatest compliment.
The queen frog sat on the throne protecting her dog.
He was a tiny thing, spoiled rotten, a mutt from the bog.
He fell into the gravy, the jealous ones agreed together.
Brought in from a storm in the worst winter weather.
The dog was as loyal to the queen as she was to him.
She named him Stewart Jingle Jones Gyrate and Jim.
We often had to tiptoe around her little spoiled cur.
For he was a mean little thing, and always next to her.
A day in the life of a flea
Is just one too many for me
So please swap your cur
For something sans fur
To avoid a catastrophe!
Down's Syndrome is such a big scare
Because it happens everywhere
So clinics should close
Since everyone knows
The greedy need more than their share*
*90% of the cases at one clinic are
attributed to Down's Syndrome but
the GOP won't fund research - nor
prevention - as all the GOP needs
is "approved" voters who vote
the party line
When we sat together,
we whispered almost as one,
not as conspirators,
but as mentor and acolyte,
and you spoke of things that I did not comprehend
yet with words that I knew were true.
You warned me of a chimera,
I've fallen prey to several since.
When we stood counter,
we opposed one another's reason,
not as equals,
but as victor and vanquished,
and you spoke of things that I could not escape
and with words that I could not refute.
You warned me of your power,
I still dare not deny.
And I may have known at once,
or I may have known at last,
that you were The Emperor's Sage
and I was the jester's cur.
26th August 2018
Every Dog Starts As A Surly Cur
Earth seeds its own laments
worn shepherds in torn tents
Sheep living in deep sleep
a tramp never earns his keep
Lone tree shades bare ground
hare rests but not the hound
Path sets so many hideous traps
children need more long naps
Adults seek much more pleasure
ignoring love's greatest treasure
Always more power grows deeper mad
selfish desires fertilize the bad
Earth bears its bitter fruit
dog puppies, so soft and cute
Man races he knows not where
every dog starts as a surly cur
Robert J. Lindley... 2014
A Cur
There was an old cur men endured.
A bad dog was he that is for sure.
When he wanted to eat
He would steal someone’s meat.
Caught and caged with a lure was cur’s cure.
(Too sad, must add: Until they found him a home...)
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
March 9, 2010
Poetic form: Limerick
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