Strangers wander about outside my window glass (gift daydreams to hurry along my time clocked in)
Roomie erupts into our pod post-trek home (every 4:57pm, I – a dog – wonder at her return)
Dad scribbles out his end of week “thought you’d get a kick out of” list (always squints to read on call)
Partner hoists arms to let me settle on their chest before sleep (I regale, they smile, I quiet, they breathe)
Me, myself, I pick how to spend each second (growing weeping willow, who will sway or stay?)
time is messy
gooey like molasses
sticky especially if you are a stickler for it
I choose to ignore it
pretending it is a fly caught on a glue strip
others race to please time
wanting it to rule them
I get a kick out of their frenzied belief in time
but do not buy into it
time is messy
Often when someone catches me unaware
It seems an intrusion that I least expected
Makes me wary of surprises, I must declare
Most of the time, I prefer to be neglected.
It seems an intrusion that I least expected
I had already made plans for what I’d do
Most of the time, I prefer to be neglected,
Surprisers fail to consider the other shoe.
I had already made plans for what I’d do
Oh, I know they have the best of intentions,
Surprisers fail to consider the other shoe.
Still, I try to avoid disdain, I must mention.
Oh, I know they have the best intentions
Those who get a kick out of surprising me
Still, I try to avoid disdain, I must mention,
Being surprised doesn’t fill me with glee.
Those who get a kick out of surprising me
Makes me wary of surprises, I must declare
Still, I try to avoid disdain, I must mention
Often when someone catches me unaware.
Written December 2, 2022
Being an identical twin means you do not have a name
For the first eighteen years of your life but keep your happy heart.
You are called “Hey, you, Twin!” or “Stone Twin!”
Except by your friends who are amazing and can tell you apart.
I could not wait to leave home, so I could wear my own stuff.
My identical twin wanted to dress identically, this was so tough.
I could not wait to get out the door and be called my own name.
I did not tell anyone I had a look-alike, who looked exactly the same.
Now we are older, and we get a kick out of dressing alike.
It takes us hours of deciding, because we can rarely agree.
I like clothes with words, a motto, or moral, or a monster on a hike.
My twin likes to wear florals, old people clothes that irritate me.
We have a twin laugh that is creepy. Our whole family rolls their eyes.
This laugh starts out loud but after a while turns silent, which is cool.
Silent laugh, our children say, not understanding or able to surmise.
That twins have a sense of humor that follows no sense or rule.
I cannot wait to drive a sports car I thought!
Now I have a red one, it took me awhile.
Guys race to see what I look like.
From the back I am sure I look young and sexy.
When they pull up and honk I give them my old face.
If I smile wide enough, they get to see how many teeth I am missing.
I get a kick out of it. I know I shouldn’t
But it is one of the few things that makes me laugh.
I cannot wait to be a grandma and live in the country.
That was my ultimate dream.
I am a grandma to ten, and I do live in the country.
But there is arthritis in both of my ankles.
Sometimes I step down and it feels like I have broken both ankles.
Do whatever you want while you are young, girl.
My dog knocked me down and I am pretty sure I am dead now.
Just determined not to believe it - easier to do at my ripe old age.
I pick up the phone and call unknown people daily.
It is part of my job, and I get a kick out of it.
I call and talk, and laugh and chat, and it is fun.
I stare at the calendar. My brother’s birthday.
My sister has urged me to call him.
I have not spoken to him for six or eight years.
I doubt he remembers who I am.
I reach for the phone, stare at the number.
What would I say? If he would answer.
What do we have in common? What is there now?
I put the phone down, staring at the number.
It might not even be his number.
Ding ding. It is a text from my sister.
“Did you call Rex?”
This is almost as irritating as me not being able to call him.
you wonder where i have been
you wonder do i still write poems
you wonder if i still go to the beach
you wonder my left hand is still right
i wonder if you still read my poems
i wonder do you still get a kick out of finding the goal
i wonder if you still wear that pitch black two piece sometimes when you read my poems
i wonder if your right hand causes you to go left on occasion
together, we merge to float into an oasis of curiosity and wonder
together, we connect to become those two hearts that beat as one
together, we laugh as we get all bug eyed when we see Charlie again
together, we find the answers that we seek on yet another way to Love....
6/5/17
Bottle caps, joints and blunts in the ashtray
Not worth doing anything half way
Especially if today is my last day
Near and far from any cascade
Spending time in the fast lane
Now ain't that strange
I don't know why so many cats play
I got a lot to offer the rap game
Made by using my hands and brain
It's a damn shame
When someone gives something legitimate a bad name
And what some are willing to do to try and grab fame
Some get a kick out of boasting about how much cash came
If you couldn't ever hit the target, did you ever have aim?
Nothing like a crab cake
You talk too much crud, how does all the crap taste?
When things don't go your way, how quickly you get a sad face
Then you try to kiss butt and offer a handshake
While looking shady not trying to stand straight
Well and I Get A Kick Outta All That Kinky Stuff
You do to me, the way you blow and stick your tongue
In my ears, the way you spank me and make me
Beg for more, the way you pour honey all over my body
And lick me clean ooh wee well I Get a Kick Outta
All That Kinky Stuff you do to me, the way you kiss
And bite my neck, the way you tickle me 'til I almost
Piss myself, the way you tie me to the bed and run ice
Down my happy trail just sends me into orbit well and
I know you get a kick out of it yourself especially when
You use that toy on me; I swear you get into it as much
As I do...I've never had such an innovated lover before
Ooh wee baby, oooh wee I Get a Kick, I Get a Kick
Outta All That Kinky Stuff you do to me, ooh wee
Ooh wee baby I want more, more, more yeah make
Me sore, I Get a Kick Outta All That Kinky Stuff!
My dog can spell
I think it's pretty cool,
he chews on a ham bone
then starts to drool.
I ask him many questions
then he wags his puffy tail,
when I spell the word o u t
toward the door he bails.
I spell the word w a l k
then he really runs around,
when he doesn't get out right away
he then flops to the ground.
I taught him how to sit pretty
Scamp can give a high five,
he cheats and gives ten instead
cheesy dog food keeps him alive.
He thinks they are treats
but he doesn't really care,
as long as he does his tricks
his "treats" will always be there.
These are four of many tricks
he's been taught since day one,
being adopted out of the S.P.C.A.
with him, I'm far from being done.
Whoever says a dog can't spell
they'd be, oh, so wrong,
maybe I can teach him more words
it might not take too long.
Copyright © Cynthia Jones
Feb.28/2015
It didn't take me too long to teach Scamp a few tricks. I get a kick out of him.
4:07 PM 21 oct 2014
I rhyme for a reason I reason for a rhyme
I do it in my sleep I do it all the time
Sorting and sifting through thousands of words
Searching through characters such as dogs and birds
I have to put my feelings to poem
And send them out on the net to roam
They will not go any other way
So I write them out day by day
Is it crazy to air feelings to strangers
Is there really an inherent danger
I don't know and I don't care
I have to get rid of this mess some where
So if others get a kick out of my stress
Let them go ahead and maybe forget their own mess
the mother red fox
snuggles in warm den, feeds her kits...
a-oo-oo-oo-ooo
the owl in the tree
on a pitch dark moonless night ...
who-who-who-who-who
the mother red fox
says shhh, shhh, shhh, to the owl....
kits just wow, wow, wow
the crack of dawn breaks
a sunrise of red and blue ...
zzzzz, zzzz, silence speaks
I get a kick out of the whole song, "What Does The Fox Say"
but I dedicate my poem to "Fraka-kaka-kaka-kaka-kow"
Written February 21, 2014
Sponsor: Skat A
Contest: What Does The Fox Say
I did some research on the Red Fox and they make a sound
somewhat like the Tawny Owl and other trisyllabic sounds
like they are talking to each other..
They are mostly nocturnal
He will make everything fabulous
Wait and see
He has a way of doing things
He knows what needs to be done first
And every step thereafter
He knows how to do things
Plan things and make things to come
We don’t even have to worry about the details of it
He is in control
Every minute second
He is on top of it
Don’t sweat, hyperventilate, exasperate
Irritate, gripe, aggravate
The Maker of this world is presiding
In charge
Why agonize, discompose, fret, nervous
While the Father has of hold on his making
God meant for us to enjoy things
Life and everything goes with it
Don’t be a grouch, a wreck, a grumbler
A troublemaker, a moaner, a nitpicker
God meant for you to be happy
Live life, sing a song, dance a storm
Make someone happy
Make yourself happy
Take delight in what you do
Take pleasure in what you accomplished
Be pleased
Get a kick out of things not called for, earned
Have a ball
Have fun
Live a little
God rules
A one in a million lady
Now sixty years old
She still jumps over the wall
I still get a kick out of people gasping
When they witness her doing it…
A lady that is a mother to many
Even without asking they open up
They share their deepest fears with her…
I sometimes become jealous,
Feeling deprived of precious time with her
But then I look at how blessed I am,
To still have my mom with me
Even if I have to share her,
With the rest of my community…
Her laughter, with ears willing to listen
To give a hug,
To wipe a tear,
She is my brightest star,
Even if she thinks, she is nothing special
To me she is one in a million,
To me she means the world...
by: Wilma Neels
what happens when the tagged go out of town?
you pick another; another clown.
someone who can use their wit
and let the rest of us get on with it
so i guess i have another pick
so here goes a great pick
carolyn guess what? your it
your begging for a chance so this is it
use your skill to write us this bit
and tag someone else
who's poetry we get
don't get the dizzy
and don't get the lame
get someone who can play the darn game
let someone know that their poetry is game
and we get a kick out of seeing their name
Carolyn Devonshire
get em!!!!
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