ya'll heard the one
about and and gal
kissing on Christmas day
her Husband comes along
said whats going on
get from neath that misletoe
unhand my wife
darling let call it a night
Mister just let her go
then he balled up his fist said
I'll hit you with this
leave my gal alone
grab your rags
pack your bags
Fella it's time to go
I aint wrong for quick cheeky peck
ya'll been sliding tougunes
and you got your hands all
on her ass
aint airin out my lungs
cause i'm wrong
cause you damn well know
I'm right
take your jacket off
let's go out side
time for us guys to fight
bizzy me
you wiff my Gal
well that aint like I planned
see I'm her Mister
don't get it twisted mister
you egging for ah fyte!
A widower is a sorry species
unschooled in the culinary arts
washing white clothing with darks
The embodiment of a ‘klutz’ ~
The whole man, worse than the sum of his parts
I'd give you a dozen fireflies
To shine some light on your face -
Surpassing a lamp and compass
In finding your way home.
I'd give you some honeybees
So they might hum you a tune
For when silence intrudes -
Knowing their sound will overcome
But I don't have either of these
So instead I hope you always
Find a light amid the dark
And keep a tune in your heart.
QUESTLINE what song do the old never forget YESTERDAY
OPPOSITES in the midst of death - lichen comes to life
TABB out of the picture - blanked
SPRING NO more frozen earth BUTnature's new birth
SWITCH verb to noun changea dollar to cents. CHANGE
QUATRAINO HINDSIGHT 20/20 myopia lens
DARYUSH 5/3 PAUSE hesitate & dream - and receive
STREAM of CONSCIOUSNESS spontaneous thoughts awaken
HUITAIN STICKNEY sonneteer superbe peut-etre
SEPTALINE LIFE living out daydreams- in the present
SOLILOQUY prithee tarry - anon we marry
POPE upon his sleeve ,all life does wear....for all to see
There's a MAGA 6-pack,
Sitting aloft the highest bench.
Where they've decided once again,
To throw in the monkey wrench.
It seems they weren't satisfied with,
Just taking a peek in Pandora's box.
They had to turn it completely upside down,
Shook it well, only to see what rocks.
Oh, to write a dozen poems
Then…post only ten
To rise upon the morrow
Saying…”won’t do that again”
Thirteen is a baker’s dozen,
Or a scary Friday night.
Missing in an elevator,
Or a 12-year-old’s delight.
Rite of passage from a tweener,
Cooler in so many ways.
Does it bring a new demeanor?
That’s for others to appraise.
An impish grin and razor wit
Make it hard to guess the years.
Daddy’s girl still loves to snuggle;
Raging, crying, full of tears.
Thirteen is an awkward age, yes,
Not a child, but not yet grown.
A scant few years, she’ll spring the cage;
My oh my, the years have flown!
So here is our birthday prayer:
May your year abound in glee.
Careful to avoid the pitfalls;
led by Christ, our precious Ree.
----------
(a birthday card inscription on the occasion of Ree’s 13th birthday, so, a few years ago)
A ninety thousand dollar Jeep,
And that’s a standard one, no less!
The ‘23 Grand Wagoneer
Conquers the school lines best, I guess.
If Coleridge dreamt of Rubikahns
With pricing up among the stars,
I’d search for stash of heroin
And check his needle arm for scars.
A capital idea though
And P. T. Barnum comes to mind,
So climb up in that Wagoneer
And leave those school moms far behind.
A dozen ducks were bobbing
On the river - what a sight!
The fact that there were 12 of them
Just filled me with delight.
If there had just been 2 or 3
I’d not have been impressed
And, at first glance, a dozen
Wasn’t what I would have guessed.
Of course I counted! Now, when thinking
Dozens, one supposes,
I should add ducks to Christmas days
And bagels, eggs and roses.
(A guy told me today with total confidence that for women, men are a dime a dozen. That has never been my experience which inspired me to pen this piece.)
I could have collected empty soda cans
from the side of the road and cashed them in
They were worth five cents apiece back then
I only needed two for that dime to buy
a dozen men’s time and attention
sparing myself those Saturday nights
wasting away in my room reading
as I listened to old records or the radio
or sitting at a table alone as other girls
danced held in the arms of a guy
I didn’t know they had purchased
for less than a single penny
I could have had a whole harem
if in the winter I had shoveled snow
I had nothing else to do and nowhere to go
walk in these shoes a dozen miles
hang down you head like a defeated, disciplined child
think in your mind the times of strife you have
beating in your heart your last blood you bleed less
go asleep and as you wake
you awake just to sleep
and all your dreams you've been denied
come and go run and hide
Over the stones
over the mounds and hills
Over the grasses roam
Over the on through river banks
over through meadows lakes
while yet still in the distance
still you walk in worn shoes a ragged dozen miles
walk
walk
walk
walk in worn shoes a ragged dozen miles
1/12/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2022©
A dozen roses
petals falling away
one by one,
crimson red burgundies fading
Cleopatra longing in seduction
Anthony succumbing with every
touch at I love you;
fading red to gentle pinks
reverent grace and innocence
calling out to you,
a single white rose in purity
Adonis wounded in love pursuit
Aphrodite rushing to his side,
set aside to silently speak
here I am, just for you.
Fishing rods and reels, and bicycle wheels,
gentle thousand yard stare,
daisies in the dunes, measured afternoons
all without a damn care.
Bake shop coffee and wet shore like toffee,
Hampton Star in my lap,
on the beach sipping, salty wind nipping
at thoughts of that day’s nap.
Sand like gold powder, piping clam chowder,
oyster cracker crumbs,
shy deer in the brush, blue waves fall and crush,
stoops alive with red mums.
Old high school pals, now of different locales,
drink plastic cups of beer.
Baseball and whiskey, nights thick and misty,
for our time once a year.
Inky skies full of stars, when we leave the bars,
silver on the black sea.
I look at the moon, an ancient white rune,
who makes memories with me.
She said she was interested...
She said she was single...
Turns out neither was true except for...
Money to pay for her shallow appearance,
her nails,
her yoga lessons,
her kickboxing lessons,
her makeup addiction to hide from the world her true nature.
Her definition of single and broke is vastly different from mine.
and not one mention... of the wellfare of her child over her own.
Born into an ordinary, churchgoing family
No one expected Satan to reign supreme
Relapse and rehab and sobriety chips
Postpartum vacations in the psych ward’s west wing
Three decades of life, aged twice as much
Finally lulled into domestic bliss
The wild can never truly be tamed
Excitement and fire I missed
Turned my passion of life toward writing instead
Cause 50 years old is too young to be dead
Sponsor: Silent One
Contest: Story of My Life in Ten Lines
Date: 9/30/19
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.