Eskimo Joe took a liking to Nebraska Flo
His bro said, oh, no, not her, no, no, Joe!
When Joe was with Flo, they each had a glow
Bright as flashing bulbs at a Kansas light show
Love for each other continued to grow
Joe helped Flo plant, weed, garden, rake and hoe
Their romance was fast, it was never slow
Flo showed Joe how to use a crossbow
He refused to kill a buck or a doe
But their love was intense, there was no kind of woe
His friends and her friends, his foe and her foe
These lovebirds got married in Tijuana, Mexico.
Frazzled freakish freckled Flo
Generously gives gifts on the go
Huckster Hugo has eyes for Flo
If they get together, who will know?
Just Jeremy, Jenny, Jimmy and Joe
Kindly crazy kin set up a glow
Lighting the meadow for Hank and Flo
Midnight merriment, a fireworks show
She passes the place
where I sit some mornings,
her slow, sure gait pads
a gentle elegance across
the grass carrying
just a hint of indifference.
Retired from racing,
she has been adopted out.
She seems contained within
herself, ignoring the yappy terrier
and the playful retriever
that bounds towards her
on her right, not shifting
her gaze as if transfixed
on some vision
she holds in her head.
Nothing of the morning
disturbs her meditations.
I often wonder whether
she is playing out a trauma
that has lodged in her memory
or can't fit the past and present
together into some reconcilable
whole or her aloofness
is just the nature of the breed
and the interpretation
of her manner
has more to do with me.
There is a solitude in her
that I cannot fathom and troubles
me. Sometimes I feel
like bending down
and putting my arms around
her lovely neck but a reticence
holds me back as we both
go our separate ways,
each with our own solitude
held locked within.
Flo’s relatives are the worst
If yours have stolen your cars
hers have stolen her house, garage and garden shed.
If you are whiny, hers are chronic complainers
who are more annoying than finding a live mouse in your soup.
If yours are hurtful, hers have killed people with machetes.
None of us have ever been able to top or one-up Flo’s stories.
You should see us scatter when she appears in the lunchroom.
In a passion of fashion, at the height's
of female pulchritude; try as she might,
Wobbling to walk on five inch stilletos;
All she got were awkward gawks from the fellows.
So not a cat but board walk by the sea,
In a trashcan, she cast away, those shoes from her feet.
Immediately relieved in the sand standing bare;
Eyes closed, to smell and hear, seeming more aware.
As designed her designer dress, to her feet fell flimsy.
Her undone coif flowed with floating thoughts Botticelli.
She slowly approached the ocean's sound, waves rushing meaningless;
Yet covering enough of her legs; then waist, giving rebirth to Venus.
Now 52, she was one of the first heroin addicts I had ever met.
Having been addicted for years, now death was her greatest threat.
Both her days and nights were spent turning tricks and getting high.
Having failed to be free many times, she decided to give it one last try.
She decided to check into Prevention House, which is where I met her.
Her life would be forever changed, beginning that cold Chicago December.
She was tempted to protest, but she felt this time she will not fail the test
She waved goodbye to heroin heaven and said hello to her haven of rest.
Then, there was Mac who was an angry and bitter man bound by alcohol.
He tells a story of shooting a man and the thrill of watching him fall.
Mac later tried alcohol for cheap thrills which became his greatest fall of all. He did beat alcohol but was never able to be cured from cirrhosis of the liver.
Like Flo, Mac overcame his addiction and gained peace with God forever.
122320PSCtest, Addiction Poetry, Rob Levasseur
a bat and ball
a certain way to stand tall
ignition within a conversation
pierced as the renegade blown together
appreciate the system,
walk away to me while you bleed
certain to be caught
from here to eternity back
safe in my chest you see
lift the soap so far
try avoiding the light on the car
look to the east...
To Ben McDuff poor Mary would cling
When Ben McDuff did his Highland Fling
But so fast did he fling than she came unclung
And over the Highlands she was flung
Set em up Joe, got a little story your mind it will blow
Bout a chick and her beau, making out in the snow
Got stuck till spring
Warmth unstuck their things
Had sixty-eight kids and a donkey they named “Flo”!!!
With Flo and Charmaine
Our hearts will always remain
With both Flo and Charmaine;
When from us life does so drain,
Need poets like you to remove pain.
Jim Horn
Flo
I sure am sad to hear about this;
Am sure muchly Flo we may miss;
To my poems when you have went,
Don't let them make you ambivalent.
Poem so serene do want them to mean
In their message that may be in between
Laughter, longing and a desire to be
Comforted my each poem written by me.
I remember something similar happening to
me in the past. I came back fighting refusing
to give in to someone else's foolishness. There
are so many great Super Soupers out there.
Jim Horn
Windy and her cousin Flo
Went down to the rodeo
The cows were walking on the moon
They hadn't seen the crack of noon
Floyd got his fiddle out
They danced the night away
I can't remember anything
I don't know what to say
(Limerick)
There once was a woman named Flo
Who did it by the way that you know
She had a long nose
And alligators in tow
Who ate her nose and each of her toes!
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2014
September,07,2014
Progressive has Flo; Toyota has Jan.
I really don’t get their appeal.
At first, Flo was cool, with her retro pouf hair
But with Jan – tell me, what is the deal?
By now I can say, well, they’re both on my nerves
And I’m sure many others agree;
So a word of advice to their ad people – please
Make commercials both Flo- and Jan-free.
Recognition’s important – I get that, I do,
But a negative sticks in the craw;
If these ads were like diamonds, I’d have to admit
Jan and Flo feel like finding a flaw.
This is a petition to convince dear Flo to return
It's just not the same without her
Hopefully I can convince 25 people to sign up
To make her aware how much she is missed
If you're one of those who badly want her back
Please respond to this petition and when I reach 25 names
I'll sent her the complete list of names to show her
How much we love her and miss her
I'm counting on you!
© Jack Ellison 2014
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