A man and woman meet a pup.
They look down and he looks up.
It’s love at first sight, they all feel the same.
Now it’s time to think of a name.
Two weeks later, a brand new home.
Things to chew and space to roam
And after running here and there,
He lays down under the garden chair.
A year goes by and baby makes four.
Little puppy’s not so sure.
So while they tend to baby boy,
Jealous doggy steals a toy.
A truce is called and friendship starts.
A meeting of two gentle hearts.
Boy in highchair, dog underneath
Stealing food despite no teeth.
Walks with buggies in the park,
Round the houses in the dark
School run, seafront, through the wood
‘Stop that barking, please be good’
Moving on and moving home
Two kindred dodgers of the comb
Boy walks dog. Dog walks boy
Running back and full of joy.
The boy grows up, the dog gets slow
And even though it’s hard to know
It’s like he says ‘This time’s for you,
You go on, I can’t come too’
Now hearts are broke but one’s at rest
The furry boy we loved the best
Bring back the bark and the claws on the ground
The absence of dog is an awful sound
Write Eleven Beautiful Lines Poetry Contest
Constance La France
"A rush of excitement fills the air as their maiden voyage comes to a climax."
By author
Up in the sky, baby seagulls leave the crib
Taking virgin wings to the blue skies and puffs of clouds
The siblings' baby steps come without a rattle
Only a blanket of wind at their backs
As they glide from their playbox in search of silver
Below, they see their mother lode
A pacifier, a fishermen's boat netting jumping sardines
Together, the seagulls fall from their highchair
And dive towards their food chain
That they'll hang on their dinner table with all the silverware
With their catches, the seagulls return home with their calling
Music came out of my fingers
made me dance all over the wall
My parents were askance
For I was a newborn from a small town
I was tapping my fingers on my highchair tray at one
Loving the feeling of playing my own trombone or drum
I was a musician, so they called me Table Top Joe
It was not even my name, but that’s how I evolved
Kindergarten teacher was Miss Alyson, who was pretty and quick
She let my fingers play the piano as a reward if I did my work
Work in kindergarten? That is crazy I told myself. And it was.
Every day at school was a waste of time.
How did it get me closer to fame?
Fortune?
My destiny?
I played the game as long as I could
Then I ran away to become the real me.
A musician who drums on everything he can reach.
Tabletop Joe!
In 1973 I had flu-like symptoms and they were not getting any better.
My husband was insisting that I go to the doctor, but a doctor is expensive.
I tried to tough it out, but I finally broke down.
My husband came home for lunch from his grocery store job.
He said, “So it is the flu, right?”
I said “No, I am having a baby.”
My husband was horrified.
He said to me “We already HAVE a baby!”
The baby was grinning at him from the highchair at the end of the table.
“I know, “I told him. “And now we are getting another one.”
He said, “How did you let that happen?”
I had no words.
Just a few days to Christmas
So much to do
Mum has decided
We’ll have a barbecue
Dad’s at the bank
Taking out some money
Baby’s in his highchair
Sucking on his dummy
Nan is in the garden
Picking pretty flowers
Big sister’s on the phone
For hours and hours and hours
Family are arriving
Putting presents my the tree
A small one for baby
A big one for me
We’d better all be good
And try not to fight
For Santa Claus is coming
In the middle of the night.
He’s a jolly fellow
In his suit of cherry red
Pull up the covers
Snuggle down in bed
Santa will arrive
In his jet propelled sleigh
Laughing and ho ho-ing
Across the milky way
Early Christmas morning
Look up into the sky
You will see a message
MERRY CHRISTMAS AND GOODBYE
in old school days
i used to eat
paste
that we were
supposed to
use for art
works such
as a stick
figured
snow man
who's hands
were made of
sticks but i
got stuck on
eating the stuff
but can't say it was
like purposely
putting
a tube of glue
in a paper bag
sniffing until
passing out
for in simply
taking a taste
while copying
Picasso
was
truly Proustian
for my mind
took not
by smell yet
was propelled
to a time
when i was ill
and Mum was
making oatmeal
taking a taste
spoon fed
takes
me back
to an earlier
time when i was
in a highchair
unaware if all
but being
fed pablum
by someone
so i suppose
this wasn't
a mind opening
experience of
remembrance
of things
past
Just a few days to Christmas
So much to do
Mum has decided
We’ll have a barbecue
Dad’s at the bank
Taking out some money
Baby’s in his highchair
Sucking on his dummy
Nan is in the garden
Picking pretty flowers
Big sister’s on the phone
For hours and hours and hours
Family are arriving
Putting presents my the tree
A small one for baby
A big one for me
We’d better all be good
And try not to fight
For Santa Claus is coming
In the middle of the night.
He’s a jolly fellow
In his suit of cherry red
Pull up the covers
Snuggle down in bed
Santa will arrive
In his jet propelled sleigh
Laughing and ho ho-ing
Across the milky way
Early Christmas morning
Look up into the sky
You will see a message
MERRY CHRISTMAS AND GOODBYE
Jeez - how much mess can a
jovial toddler make!
Jello is smeared on his
jubilant face, and grape
juice drips from the highchair!
Just like his daddy, his
jaded granny recalls!
Checked with how many syllables
J Pleiades Contest
Sponsored by Kim Merryman
03~04~17
True Rare Day Horn Hiaku
True rare day is Thanksgiving
Lovely way to be living
Over food we are quibbling.
Which one will have the best taste
Have to eat fast with much haste
By God we were graced.
Now at table we are there
And shall start off with a prayer
Sat what would I dare?
Should I have to hesitate
Before I say, "God is great,"
How long must I wait.
Poor prayer is over and done
Did anyone I really stun
My prayer was a pun.
Wonder where shalt I begin
Now that my highchair am in
"God is great," Amen.
GaGa stands for God Always
God always. Anytime, you
boys can stop the noise.
That even rhymes. Wow.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Fields and fields of corn on the cob
As far as the eye can see
Sweet little niblets of yellow perfection
Tempting little old me
Must admit to this addiction of mine
Coz hiding it makes no sense
My skin has taken on a bright yellow hue
“Corny” jokes I always dispense
For breakfast, lunch and even dinner
It's corn, and corn, and more corn
Thinking of joining “Niblets Anonymous”
Been addicted since I was born
Cute as a button sitting in my highchair
Corn mush all over my face
No telling if I was animal or vegetable
You couldn't even tell my race
Mom cleaned me up and there I was
Just as sweet as I could be
Mom called me her “Little Corn Niblet”
To my friends, I was “Cornpoke Pete”!
Fields and fields of corn on the cob
As far as the eye can see
Sweet little niblets of yellow perfection
Tempting little old me
Must admit to this addiction of mine
Coz hiding it makes no sense
My skin's taken on a bright yellow hue
“Corny” jokes I always dispense
For breakfast, lunch and even dinner
It's corn, and corn, and more corn
Thinking of joining “Niblets Anonymous”
Been addicted since I was born
Cute as a button sitting in my highchair
Corn mush all over my face
No telling if I was animal or vegetable
You couldn't even tell my race
Mom cleaned me up and there I was
As sweet as I could be
Mom called me her “Little Corn Niblet”
To my friends, I was “Cornpoke Pete”!
©Jack Ellison 2012
Early Days
The highchair beside the kitchen door
my domain, vantage point of my world
on the linoleum checker board floor
I played until my knees were sore
The center of the world to me
I learned to know as my mother
cooked and cleaned while I was free
to grow into what I might be
A world consisting of black and white
as appropriate as the days television
images remembered vivid and bright
raised by my mother in love and light
Stephen
Sauce drips from your chin
To scold you would be a sin….
Marinara grin
As you fall asleep
At your highchair as you eat
And in mashed potatoes sleep
By Robb A. Kopp
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