amble
waddle
search
she strains at her walker
prowling the home's halls
shoe on one foot
bare on the other
in an other worldly time
her soft footed tracks
are marred with circumstance
"where is my shoe?" she wails
a quagmire to be free of
wanting to emerge
sure footed from this hobbit hole
I find her soft black loafer
near her bed
slip it on to her bare foot
like a snap of Cinderella
her discomfort subsides
a "thank you" chipped from rounded shoulders
sometimes a stranger can right hapless motion
when full sight is no longer stitched to an independent will
sometimes things are not exactly in the right place
not fitted with precision
when we can't see what lies ahead
like the end of something hanging over us
He’s always So Behind
Hasten,
Mason
Heavenly Guy
Sky glow
Milo
A Great Guy
Maxwell
acts swell
Sure Not Dickie Nixon
Tricky
Micky
Spoiled Guy
Bratty
Mattie
Why We Follow
Moses
Shows us
Such a Cheerful Fellow
Jaunty
Monty
Hope he Doesn’t want Kids
Sterile
Merrill
The Stoic
Spartan
Martin
He Keeps Them in the Family
Newel’s
Jewels
The King’s Favorite
Jester
Nestor
He’s Just so Tall
Shorten
Norton
Almost got Left off the Ark
Noah’s
Boas
I Have . . .
Faith in
Nathan
The Shrewd One
Heady
Neddy
The guy in Charge
Foreman
Norman
Never Sits Still
Goin’
Owen
Stuck at Home
Snowed in
Odin
A Nobody
Zero
Nero
Put Him on a Diet
Fatty
Paddy
Give Him a Shave Please
Hairy
Parry
Never Finished Med School
Nursie
Percy
Kind of a Loafer
Restin’
Preson
Mr. Popular
Tweeter
Peter
His Magic
Patrick’s
Hat Tricks
Worm Man
Wriggly
Quiggly
There's an innocent time that I recall
when every girl is Cinderella at a bobby-sox ball
each guy, a penny-loafer prince in a white letter sweater
and the jukebox music keeps getting better
A place where the teens are not overly hip
where the burn-outs and greasers don't dare give them lip
where 350-engines purr under car hoods
where heroes are handsome, virtuous and good
The Beach Boys are gone now
Bobby Vee, Neil Sedaka, Chuck Berry too
Hearing their music brings a tear to my eye
If I make it to Heaven, I hope they'll drop by
I will start for love
And I will end for love.
You as a whopper
In love like a mother,
I didn't see why you
Let me captived in queue
Of infants of love.
You showed me love
So I ain't a dealer of dope,
So I know you will kiss me like a dove.
Set me free to know much about love
To teach some who are in hope
For having how to cope
In coping for stumbling in slope
Of love skillfully not like a drop
Of water that comes from top.
I'd been like a mopper
In love that is used in rooms
Not like a loafer
That is used for wearing by grooms
And Brides who got married.
I will be caring about it
And I'll also be thinking about it
But if you set me free towards it
I can survive without loosing it.
I will be happy if you tell me
Who told you to close me
Because I know you will not
Do it without somebody's plot.
You'll never close me
Because I know you love me.
Please baby set me free
If you hanker me to be like a tree
That never got even hurt,
But as far I am in this hut
That is filled with hot
I will only remain hurt.
Ahhhhhh.... they make me so mad!
A fool, a buffoon, an unruly lad,
A prankster, a trickster, a tattler,
A gigolo, a lounger and an idler;
An imposter, a pretender and a loafer,
A party crasher, a tailgater and a golfer,
A boondoggle or a task of a tall order,
And the deals done under-the-counter!
I often tear my hair out at a silly pun
or at a smart aleck who can out-run,
A hoax or a scam drives me crazy
which is absurd, witless or sleazy.
But look into my eyes lovingly
and whisper sweet nothing softly,
Hold my hands and be pretty sexy
And oh ... Man, I’ll just go crazy!
~"What Annoys You?" contest by Frank Herrera.
A land full of plenty ,yet they suffer,
Which makes me confused like naughty loafer,
Children battling with hunger makes me cry,
While few wild baboons suck the nation dry.
They travel to foreign lands to lavish
the nation’s wealth,which makes them look foolish,
while honest and good ones labor in vain,
the gluttons feed their bellies with much gain.
Dishonesty of souls add to this sadness,
When would the deeds of men bring me gladness?,
Ants and bees swim in betrayal without a fine,
Hatred and greed rejoice with a glass of wine.
Injustice coated with love and passion,
Stealing and deceit are now real fashion,
As my heart tinges for a cure at last,
Pain and poverty linger like in the past.
Time to change myself once more
It's my mantra every Sunday
Be good with food and have less wine
This always starts on Monday
Commence with gentle exercise
And eat a smaller ration
By Tuesday this is going well
I'm full of strength and passion
It's Wednesday I am feeling weak
I want to drink some claret
I tell myself to carry on
So instead I eat a carrot
I put myself to bed that night
Hoping not to suffer
Tomorrow is another day
Of course I'll be much tougher
By Thursday I am back on track
I'm feeling rather dandy
I force myself to eat less snacks
And have a little brandy
By Friday it is getting tough
I'm feeling so much weaker
I pour a glass of cold crisp wine
And then fill another beaker
Come Saturday I am off the plan
I've gelled into my sofa
I fill my face with tasty treats
And turn in to a loafer
The sabbath day I carry on
I may as well keep eating
Hereafter I will start again
And do it without cheating
Couch Potato
Sofa
loafer
Tummy Rumble
A snack
attack
Soft drink shortage
Soda
hoarder
Dated: 8/19/14
I danced around the circle how graceless i am
The tones i used to sing was no longer mine
Food id like to eat turned bitter in time
I looked at the mirror the face is not mine
How cruel the world so clueless no sign
Pieces by pieces will i ever redesign
I feign day by day that everything is fine
Love i once held was now undefined
The tramp, loafer, bummer all in one
Whatever you call the name is one sound
Pond of lust and laughter and fun
You may win the game but your cloud has no sun
My eyes are bleeding in pain and on fire
Indomitable anger so hard to respire
Look at me now how you made me desire
Exhausted, berated, Please condole by my side
Ahhhh...they make me so mad:
A fool, a buffoon, an unruly lad,
A prankster, a trickster, a tattler,
A gigolo, a lounger and an idler;
An impostor, a pretender and a loafer,
A party crasher, a tailgater and a golfer,
A boondoggle or a task of a tall order,
And the deals done under-the-counter.
I often tear my hair out at a silly pun
Or at a smart aleck who can outrun,
A hoax or a scam drives me crazy
that is absurd, witless or sleazy.
But look into my eyes lovingly
And whisper sweet nothing softly,
Hold my hands and be pretty sexy,
And oh...Man, I'll just go crazy!
I'm so annoyed contest by Mary Oliver Rotman
LOVE IS NEITHER BAD NOR GOOD.
IT IS AN EXPERIENCE,
WHICH WE ALL CHERISH WHEN IT LASTS.
IT TEACHES US THE
MEANING OF LIFE,
PURPOSE OF LIFE,
RESPONSIBILITIES IN LIFE.
IT IS A GIFT THAT MAKES
THE BLIND SEE,
THE DEAF HEAR,
THE DUMB SPEAK.
IT HAS THE POWER TO TRANSFORM
A LOAFER INTO A RESPONSIBLE MAN.
TRUE LOVE WHEN IT EXISTS
IS REALLY A EXPERIENCE TO CHERISH.
Excuses
…..And spewing them forth
The inveterate loafer
Enjoys himself, while
The decent one feels squeamish
Even when he’s justified.
9th Jan 13
S.Jagathsimhan Nair
For Susan’s ‘Excuses’
You penny-posing loafer
You’re worn, through and through
Like us, puh-lease say we’re over
Before I fly-salt your food
You’re worn, through and through
Like the new burn-holes in your pants?
Before I fly-salt your food,
Why not leave as I passively ask?
Like the new burn-holes in your pants,
The gap between us is HUGE
Why not leave as I passively ask?
Walk out in your tack-filled shoes
The gap between us is HUGE
Like us? Puh-lease, say we’re over
Walk out in your tack-filled shoes
You penny-posing loafer
9/11/12
(fly-salt: to sprinkle flies like salt onto food; puh-lease: please ennunciated)
For Rhonda & Cyndi's Pantoum Contest
Alone in the night,
descending the stairs,
I desolate happiness,
out of scars
The scars of past,
and present and future,
And the happiness of a wandering thought
In the broad daylight,
when I fade out
My shallow heart
confines desires…
A blurred vision,
and numb nerves
A wandering loafer soul
And a wandering thought…
I leap mountains,
and walk through the seas
Across the wind,
trimming the fire
I let myself breathe,
and calm down
I surrender my ego
To a wandering thought…
Why would a Lord's servant miserably die,
And his wife and children are left embroiled in lack?
Why would a toiler a beautiful mansion buy,
But a gun bearing loafer ambushes his head?
As I continue my gripes with life
Another question comes up:
Why should the industrious laborer seek heaven's favor
But all this he does in vain?
Why and why I ask
Until I discover that life is an empty husk!
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