The home-grown potato
Came flying across the long country kitchen table.
It flew by me before I saw it.
Mom had just boiled two dozen.
We were a big family.
Dad once said he could have
Been a major league pitcher.
The potato smashed in my older brother’s face.
Suddenly I believed my dad.
I never believed what he said,
Not because he lied, but because he was angry
Most of the time.
I was only six, too young
To make such distinctions. I still doubt angry men—
Woman less so;
Hard to see the truth through enraged eyes.
The bicycle had a flat tire for days
Dad said leave it—I got it.
Seven days in a row
Only bike we could afford.
“Dad, let me fix it.”
Really, Dad!
Toss a hot potato for that?
I kept my mouth shut
Told myself, “You are only six.”
Fool or coward?
Next day I rode the bike
Over to my friend’s yard.
The old ‘Pass-Punt-Kick’ contest
misappropriated by politicos
You’re familiar with the stereotype
the kind who check which way the wind blows
Like a hot potato they pass the buck
If asked a tough question, they punt
And when a financial decision looms, they
kick the can years down the road
So, fans, it seems we have a winner
535 Congressmen, each and every one a sinner
Today, 2025.3.09@08:46:00
Here I am again at Geelong.
Not only I am alone, but also unhappy.
My trip over the long weekends had been altered and changed,
Not by the weather nor a new plan,
Simply by some body who has no sense of responsibilities.
I shall not loose any of my time and energy,
On a person like this.
He gave me a book,
In which he described himself as a loner.
And disclosed so many of his unacceptable behaviours,
But not a word of his selfishness nor breaking promises characters.
By now, I am happy and relief,
Visiting one of my favourite beaches.
The Geelong icon, "Manningham" pier,
The newly built hook shaped Yarra Street pier,
In less than 90 minutes,
I shall be on my way to Apollo Bay.
I do not know if I am going to have big waves,
Which knocked me to the ground and hurt my knees,
I do not mind at all, because
I was not promised by the nature,
I will embrace what so ever,
Big or small, rough or gentle,
Not like some people,
Give you high hope and drop you like hot potato.
I knew I was a loner, but I will never be a loser.
We have a brand new fire pit.
The ring is four feet wide.
Perfect for a Fall evening!
Cast iron and two feet high,
a present for hosting warmth.
Perfect for family and friends!
We have deadfall from the storms
and stumps hewn for seating.
Perfect for talk and cheer!
Bring your favorite beverage and food.
We have cozy blankets to cuddle.
Perfect for singing and laughter!
The neighbors see the flames
and bring their contributions.
Perfect for games and camaraderie!
Mom made hot potato salad and slaw.
Sally’s dad made ribs, and chili beans
Perfect for wieners and brats!
And so we sing and play and eat
and tell a few ghost stories, too.
Perfect night to have some fun!
Come join us for our bonfire!
My pen, as though wounded, bleeds,
Who on earth, its blood-flooding sound, heeds?
Tabula rasa papers turn pregnant,
Messages of peace-brim-filling excitement;
Midst clanging of shiny swords,
Who witnesses the wounded words?
Poetry is for lunatics, they say,
Might moves mountainous sway;
Blood should paint the world maps,
Dead should adorn the scull-caps;
Shells should illumine skyscrapers,
No podium for poetry-papers;
They march forward with philosophies such,
Though fear within, deadliest weapons they clutch;
Like monsters and vampires they fight,
Many, to Hades, take their flight;
Peace-poems, often, become wraps,
Of their not-so-hot-potato chaps;
My wounded heart, together with my pen, yearns,
Insane humans to realize their hate-churns;
Having battles lost and won,
Laurels of pride, heads adorn;
Losing wife, children, friends, kith-and-kin,
Sensory organs, like neon gas, brunt within;
Those survive try to trace and read the peace writings,
Die, ultimately, in perennial musings...!
28 March 2022
no hocus pocus
reality feels bogus
dreams zap our focus
abstract besets real locus
if for love then who woke us
chosen now woken
open sesame spoken
deepest thought broken
wilderness needs a token
perhaps heaven’s unbroken
cosmic hey presto
one very hot potato
slipped past dear plato
consciousness found ratio
fulcrums master, builds nato
/ \
/ \
/ \
By David Kavanagh
Howmanysyllables 5/7/5/7/7 x 3
03/07/2022
sifted sand
that slips the stalks
that forest from the crevices
ants with hot potato feet skim the glass
fragmented in the concrete gaze
kicking chewing gum Michelangelo's
Tar repair words
whisping dust bunny demons
shimmer realities hold
exhale returns
shelter me
from the heat
stinging soles
shoes retain the cold
and sits are seconds old
to me nothing new
who you have been never knew
crowd up who you drew
they were in NATO
seemed to be hot potato
also SEATO
then when at table
attach dishes when able
to remain stable
always polluting
had been beleaguered Putin
breeze away shooting
we had been humble
Trump would stumble and bumble
grouch who did grumble
out he liked to lash
Trump had been big bunch of trash
together teeth mash
Trump while in Paris
told tall tales from a terrace
those around embarrass
we would raise each brow
Trump became menace in Moscow
has affair with sow
Once Upon a Time illumination,
black tie Chevron
Wild mushrooms Spice Market Rusty
Dried mud puddle now crusty
Breath of fresh air Pearly Gates
Tongue-tied Showtime polish Stone
~
Once Upon a Time terracotta
Hot potato first kiss pins and needles
Once Upon a Time croissant
Cream of the crop Rose Colored Glasses
Tulips in Spring hot pink
Prickly pear Driftwood tree house
~
Time illumination once upon
3/28/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
He dropped the words
like a hot potato fail,
"I love... "
(Her heart escalated.)
"...uuukuleles."
(Then tripped on
that same sliding staircase.)
She picked up the words,
then tossed them back.
"I love...."
(She paused for drama.)
"...uuunicorns more."
Having a field day:
My joy immense
At your expense
Immune to crocodile tears:
The old judge
Will not budge
Best thing since sliced bread:
Produced an innovation
Without any hesitation
Head above water:
Averting with persuasion
Bad financial situation
Child’s play:
Brand new toy
Jump for joy
Winter blues:
Right on cue
Down with flu
Shipwrecked:
Stuck on reef
Oh good grief!
Philosophy:
A hot potato
Tackled by Plato
Call it a day:
Do not commit
Time to quit
Play it by ear:
My only advice
Is to improvise
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A Six-word Couplet Series
contest hosted by Mark Toney
© 24th September 2018
As I walked down the streets of Laredo
I spied a Mexican hot potato
But better by far
A Cuban cigar
With a spicy Comanche tomato
snow on his head
fire in his bottom
hot potato in his mouth
thorns in his feet
preparing for marathon
with teenagers
I was riding my bike along a country road,
When I saw a big turtle carrying a strange load.
I got off my bike, then the turtle came to a complete stop.
He was protecting his shiny prize and refused to drop.
It was a bright half dollar in his mouth oddly enough.
He had a hard time getting it in his mouth so overstuffed!
I found a stick to give the turtle a poke,
To see if he would let it go, and not choke!
I prodded him, and he dropped it like a hot potato,
Then went off running, doing a little flamingo.
I pocketed the half dollar and went on my way,
Happy the turtle was free, and fifty cents now my pay.
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