I plead guilty
Of saying,
My grandchild is
The most beautiful
The most wonderful
The most intelligent,
It shows, it is so evident,
Absolutely so loving,
Character and nature so giving,
Makes friends instantly
And acts independently,
And so much fun,
Takes my hand
To help build sandcastles
In the sea sand,
Likes to share,
Tells you if she feels you are wrong,
That is not fair,
And how old is this little wonder,
Who is not even afraid
Of an intense storm
With lightning and thunder,
Two years and 8 months,
Who converses so sensibly,
And comprehensibly,
I am not exaggerating,
Such a wise little mind
Who is also so truly kind,
Who tells me I am not pronouncing
“Absolutely,” Correctly
It is ab-so lut-ely yiayia, she says,
And I beam at you with pride
You are so little, yet mature
Everyday we love you more and more,
And one day when our time is up,
I hope no time too soon,
When you look up and
See a full bright moon,
And lots of glittering stars,
It’s Yiayia and pappou ,
Sending you hugs
And love galore.
YIAYIA AND PAPPOU ARE THE GREEK WORDS FOR – GRANNY AND GRANDPA
Bubbles confabulated,
Aquamarine rosary beads,
Steel-blue beams.
Americana scarecrow,
Cherry-red combine.
Lost Highway,
A road to the car dealership,
Back on the interstate.
Campanile, Brookings.
Brick courthouse, marriage license.
Curvy fairytales,
Gluten-free supper,
Phillips Diner.
Sioux Falls railroads,
Sewage floating in the river,
All in view—
On the Cliff Avenue hill,
Of the obsolete penitentiary.
Converged coalescence—
South Dakota State women win March Madness,
A retired federal chief district lesbian judge,
Her hands clapping in the stands of the Premier Center.
Wendy and Jenny hold a party
They are coming dressed up pretty
They are not lonely
They are all happy
Wendy brings her honey
Jenny brings her puppy
They are there making cookies
The party is funny
Looks like the party is juicy
But someone is going to be crazy
There is a story
Told of old
Of Jack and Jenny
Wild and bold.
Jack was first
To play the fool.
He ran off
and made a mule.
When jealous Jenny
Heard the skinny
She ran off
And made a hinny.
Or so the story goes.
Jenny eat her probiotics
eating foreign leaves
chewing on the cud
the machinations of the wise
foreleign days
back lit
She is braver each day
said she hadn't the time to choose
but she still believes
in the duty of self improvement
A message to the earnest
she find her garland summer
Guys have been praising Jenny
Bent on marrying poor Lenny
At hill tops "I love Lenny,
Whose bank account reads Penny!"
Not that he has not any
But women gasp for many
And Jenny's needs damned many
Still rejected Rich Kenny,
Who himself hates a Nanny:
Wedding one thinks uncanny.
Jenny, they say,
will face a tragedy.
Is it not something always
predicted this way?
Will it be Jenny?
Or Pete or Paul?
We glance every day among
those tabloid papers - so many.
We read headlines, blink,
then another front page;
or see this or that on TV.
Yes, we tut-tut.
We always go
this self-same way.
You reach an advanced age.
So so.
Ah yes,
so so.
(written Sep 2022; posted Jan 2023)
This is about Lenny and Jenny,
Whose love had begun with no Penny
But Jenny's songs all about Lenny,
Thousands ready to swear 'uncanny',
Not excluded Miss Jenny's Granny,
Who had told Jenny about Danny,
His Gold in all the nooks and cranny:
"Leaving it for just Lenny Funny!"
"My Smarter Grand Daughter Tessy
Had her regular dumped for Messi"
In dollars wonderful; Lord have mercy "
Why would she care one thinks it messy?"
Then, Jenny Peters began to be sleek
And Lenny forgot she'd been meek...
Just like that stopped to her fond ears tweak,
On the two seen the havoc that Growths wreak
Just that he wouldn't the secret leak;
Only his love might keep growing weak...
Jenny died eight years ago, but her sister Terry never let her go.
She speaks to her daily, which worries her parents.
They have taken her to a psychiatrist, but nothing changes.
She is still here, she insists. They do not understand.
Neither has a drop of belief in spirituality.
To them dead is dead; no personality, no soul, nothing.
Terry plays on the hill in front of the pond as often as possible.
For it is there that she sees the reflection of Jenny in the pond.
It seems awfully naive to think that you're the only ones
In such a vast universe you know so little about.
There are millions and millions of planets, moons, and suns
That can harbor the possibility of life, throughout.
The smartest people of the human race on planet Earth
Can't even fathom the knowledge of what really exists.
Your species is so young, comparatively, in its birth
To what's really out there beyond that with which you subsist.
I'm of a species that your mind can't even understand.
We came to Earth millions of years before you existed.
We stuck around longer than we originally planned.
When it was time to leave, many of our kind resisted.
So, we left them behind, something many of us regret.
But we thought, at the time, that it was the right thing to do.
Our friends died a horrible death, and we were so upset.
We all took a vow to never again return to you.
But you dig up their bones like some sort of disgusting prize.
You rebuild them and put them in museums on display.
Soon, you will be gone and after your horrible demise,
We'll return to Earth and bury them in a proper way.
A connoisseur of delicious or Johnathan apples? Queried my mom.
I had never considered her a connoisseur of either, I said with aplomb.
I knew her as Apple Jenny, she was a crone with a mission to learn.
I watched over her closely as she made her warm apple butter churn.
A scholarly woman, a sage wild woman who knew her own mind.
She was empathetic, casual, down-to-earth, pleasant and kind.
Remember who you used to be?
Say why you never truly loved me.
Jenny Wren
Jenny
Tiny feisty
Torrent of hyperbole
Over puffed explosion of joy
Lovely
J-ust a simple verse of mine,
E-merging from my mind,
N-ever I leave it behind
N-or is it hard to find
Y-our birthday's on December one.
Jenny Crow sobbed so hard, it really wasn’t fair,
Her new best friend Julie Thistle told her ‘you have rotten hair’.
Julie’s hair was blonde you see, Jenny’s was bright red,
So, Jenny told her mother good, ‘I want mine blonde instead’.
‘Don’t be silly’ her mum replied, ‘your hair looks fine to me,
I’ll have a word with Julie’s mum, sometime after tea’.
‘Hello, it’s me’ said Jenny’s mum ‘now what’s this all about?
Your daughter’s upset mine, of that there is no doubt!’
She listened really hard saying yes and no and oh!
Then turned around to Jenny saying, ‘well it just goes to show!’
It seems that Julie’s hair was never ever blonde,
She’d dyed it blonde, simply because, of red she wasn’t fond.
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