“Today, we again failed to reproduce,”
said the gander to the goose.
“If we wanna keep up with the drake and the duck,
we gotta do more than ~ just depend on luck.
We gotta actually let something hang loose.”
A hat of burlap, worn and frayed,
With buttons for eyes and a smile handmade.
His skin of cloth, stitched and worn,
His bones of wood, splintered and torn.
A shirt of plaid, its colors faded,
Stuffed with straw, his form created.
Sleeves hang loose with patches sewn,
A rustic figure, all alone.
He stands amid the winding rows,
Where shadows dance, and daylight slows.
Where golden stalks, like soldiers stand,
A silent sentinel of the land.
As dusk descends, feet drum the ground,
Echoing through the maze around.
Ghouls and goblins, wild and bright,
A fairy, a pirate, lost in delight.
He stands his guard, bound firm and tight,
With button eyes as still as night.
A witness to the joy he’ll never share,
Watching the world with his empty stare.
A crow arrives, with caw and glide,
Perching close, a friend by his side.
An unlikely pair, the fields they roam,
Scarecrow and Crow, finding a home.
a cold sleep
under chilling dreams
mostly
bones find each other
a dirt path
in the tall woods
the ill-bred trees
as usual –
darkly
disinterested
rabbit running
helter-skelter
down the track
heading at me
it is being chased
by what
I did not see
behind my shoulder
a deadly scuffle
I keep walking
my steps
are less shock proof
Back home
taking shoes and socks off
naked feet flounder
bones hang loose
again
"All a man really wants, is a girl who looks good in a bikini."
- Jack Freestone
Bikini Betty's Beef
A randy surfer from Malibu Crest
Untied the bikini top off of Celest
You’re my Betty let’s hang loose
As he tried for her caboose
Celest slapped his hand away from her breast
Aloha Barney, this isn't your turf
A lecher you are who can’t even surf
Damn men with no brains, think again
Bet you’ve never even hung ten
I’m not your Betty, uncool stupid Smurph
by I Am Anaya
As striking as a Malibu Barbie doll
Gals in bikinis I love, summer and fall
But I'm classy and kind
And so drawn to their mind
That they need not wear a bikini at all
by Robert Gorelick
There's no need to worry, who wants to steal your work?
You think that under every stone, some thieves may lurk;
I wish they would - they may have more success than me,
perhaps they might get the credit for decent mystery.
Someone said they changed websites because of abuse,
don't say everything's wonderful, be smart, hang loose;
one guy called me a 'f------ ****,' just be a mouse,
what would you expect from someone like a scouse.
I won a competition, someone liked me after all,
but then how could you resist something so magical;
my wife also writes, with perception, iron with feeling,
a good team - she does the ironing and I do the stealing.
Check your bank account - the scammers might clear you out,
before you start wondering what all this security's about.
Forget-Me-Not For Rico Leffanta
Poets love defines as does your photography
Screening feme fatal like it's a mammography
Blissful images erected
Virility unaffected
Observing what nature offers in demography
Hang loose Rico!
Mahalo
A randy surfer from Malibu Crest
Untied the bikini top off of Celest
You’re my Betty let’s hang loose
As he tried for her caboose
She slapped his hand away from her breast
Aloha Barney and get off my turf
You’re a randy dude, who can’t even surf
Rico won’t tell you again
I bet you’ve never hung ten
She's not your Betty, uncool of you Murph
So it was disinfectant after all, that's really bats,
the plan was simple - we can get rid of the democrats;
why didn't someone else think of that, perhaps they did,
but not good enough - only a one no-trump bid.
It opens a new wardrobe for future use,
bleach, turpentine, meths would all hang loose,
perhaps we could use Brasso for the *******,
or even grease from the lap-dancer's pole.
My mother had a cure for all ills, no pills,
Calamine, TCP, Lloyd's cream, pain it kills,
Milk of magnesia, germolene, Andrews for liver,
Benolyn cough mixture, if your throat starts to quiver.
She said: 'Get upstairs and wash yourself with disinfectant,'
now we can go further and use it as an expectorant.
“Anyone who isn't embarrassed of who they were last year
probably isn't learning enough.” — Alain de Botton
convinced me to roll curlers
let them hang loose
roam the village
grocery store
bobbing along
latent style
and jeans
wouldn’t mind the stares
if but i
could restore my youth
shake my booty
oh so fine
to the chagrin
of my grandmother’s eyes
to the surprise
of the guy in aisle nine
who thought me shy
3/23/2020
Staying Focused
By: Tom Wright
8/23/2018
“Believe none of what you hear and only half of what you see,”
It’s said “We are only as blind as we want to be.”
“Experience is simply the name we give our mistakes.”
Past experiences can’t be erased by using “soap flakes,”
Most days I rise, not knowing “what’s shaking,”
To a “Sink or swim” situation not entirely of my making;
Also, “Where ignorance is bliss, ‘tis folly to be wise,”
So I’ll “Hang loose” and “In focus” on the prize.
What if truth was a color
Would it be your favorite one to wear
Would it fit you or hang loose
And would you wear it everywhere
Ho! Ho! Ho! It's sure a tight squeeze.
I was able to go down the chimney with ease
and miss the bed of coals.
Mrs. Santa is right; I have to start the New Year with new goals.
Everyone must have just gone to bed because the cocoa is still hot.
Chocolate chip cookies and hot cocoa will really hit the spot.
Oh, yes sir can't hurt their feelings. I'll sit, and take of my boots and rest
by the stone hearth from the cold burr and hang loose before I head west.
A mouse came scavenging for a bite of the chocolate chip cookie,
took one look at me and climbed on my lap snuggling in beside me.
Before, the snow starts to stir and reindeer decide to leave me behind;
I'll leave their Christmas gifts under the tree since they were so kind.
Slip on my leather black coal boots trimmed in faux fur,
back on my sleigh full of gifts for the kids before I forget how many there were.
12/2/2017
I was a shirt filed with straw and rags.
Pants that hang loose. Jeans cuffed pinned uncomfortably.
Nothing to think of; a hat filled with straw.
The inability to walk. Pinned to a board.
Hickory oak.
Chest disproportionate to a small waist.
Sleeves flung in the wind.
Left standing still; a face motionless.
Pinned to hickory oak.
A shadow left in an empty field, the boundaries of a checkerboard shirt.
The insecurity of straw hands.
Pickett fences to the feet of crows,
Still she'd visit often.
Distance cut short by dark heavy wings.
She'd caw in my silence,
Not knowing the ability to smile I stood against purpose.
She refused to run, poking fun at my hat.
The clothes that hung loosely in the wind, scurf tied tightly around my neck.
Feeling her prick the strings of my chest.
Strands of straw filled by her need to find home.
Was there anything there at all before that moment.
Becoming shelter to the way she pried.
COLOURFICATION
As the charcoal clouds coat the azure skies,
carnation cheeks duet with a sunny smile
greets, her vermilion lips luscious in lure
speaks. Her hour-glass shape molded sublime
to spring looking olive-coral printed dress. She
walking like a panther in ivory high heels.
Was that rose or jasmine scent I smell?
It tantalized my senses, I breathe, I see anew.
Her long straight hair sways as she moves.
Soft silver gems adorn her ears and neck
while a violet Hermes hang loose to her arm.
Her Aphrodite beauty shines, charms more.
Sting. Chilled by unknown void and emptiness,
suddenly my heart tedious throbbing beats
went still, frozen beneath amber eyes stare.
My fifty shades of authority slowly melting down
I, trying hard to control, coping to hide through.
Will my teasing taunts, flawless flaunting pumps,
thrall the innocence of the woman in-front of me?
_________________________________________________
Poetry Contest: United colours: Colourfication
***3rd Place***
Sponsored by: Silent One
10:38 am, March 17, 2016
Lost out of the picture,
fallen out of life,
cut-eyed shut down
from all the cars and trains
and all this carrying and breaking
and lines of words without spaces.
You breathe softly, regular,
as if in a deep wood,
as paced as a slow piston
in exile to yourself,
a half life turned inside
as if the strings that
could lift you
hang loose in the sunlight.
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