MacMurphy’s head hangs
Fittingly from my saddle horn.
I’d snatched it in a moment
When he couldn’t decide
Which way to parry.
The look of surprise is still on his face.
MacNulty’s ugly mug provides
Balance on the other side.
He was just slow, or stupid, or tired of living.
His expression is one of benign neglect.
I wonder whose woman will miss her man more.
But these are thoughts best left to philosophers.
The only head that speaks to me at this hour
Dangles with doggish eagerness under my kilt.
Fiona, warm up the haggis.
I’m coming home.
Categories:
doggish, history, war,
Form: Blank verse
He has curved horn
colored dirty black body
never brushes his teeth
that he exposes often
probably to express envy
to every rival seen around
He cares not about the tail
that is doggish and fat
mustache he does not brush neat
and the belly that is heavy
as that of a she-goat touches soil
when he moves around the herd
He stands up to address goats
and to warn line of opponents
But the mouth gets stuck
He only waved his doggish tail
and shows off his harmless horns
as he intimidates others ..Meee. Meee!
But the more he brags and intimidates
the uglier he looks in the herd
He causes goats to laugh, jeer
while embracing other He-goats
intimately!
Categories:
doggish, leadership, metaphor, satire,
Form: Free verse