Long Cute as a button Poems
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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”!
The winter winds are blowing
Temperatures are in the minus range
No need to get in a flap about it
As long as love's holding the reins
It's just like spring all year round
When you're with that special someone
The one you think about 24/7
Who you think is cute as a button
Love sweet love has always been
At top of every human emotion
I defy anyone to name me another
That compares with true devotion
An old dude now but once a young'un
In the prime of life back then
Love was number one, my brain was filled
With images of twists and bends
Love never turned out quite that amazing
In all the many years since
But oh it was still an amazing journey
A lucky one, I'm convinced
© Jack Ellison 2014
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
Reprehensible Savagery ©
'Pon reading tragic headline...,
aye experienced grief alone,
no matter the killer (Chris Watts,
thirty-three years
of Frederick, Colorado) unknown
to me, the sheer brutality,
whereat he killed Shanann Watts,
Bella and Celeste,
his once adorably beautiful,
now ceased wife
and daughters ages thirty four,
four, and three respectively
(purportedly via strangulation)
reflexively did i groan
particularly, the propensity to kill
with in sinew weighted bone
times gone by,
where expletive laced epithets
incessantly did drone
nearly activating trip wires,
a blood dripping knife,
would be shown
to police, unless...I took my life,
cuz immediate regret would well up
resulting with an agonizing moan...
hence after perusing morbid
(somewhat inexplicably fascinating)
screaming tragedy ado
admit sadness overtook this chap,
what wrought motive,
(albeit premeditated)
for him to construe
such an atrocious, ferocious,
heinous, et cetera grew
some crime toward innocent wife
(she supposedly knew)
intuitively felt and possibly
foresaw the slew
how her life (a grotesque
mass square aid )
would meet one gross violent death
intimating marriage frayed
ranking as "FAKE,"
or Eff for failing grade
yet tidbits publicized twas shaky match
from get go, no heaven made
nor wedded bliss -
her precious life paid
as well two preschoolers
(cute as a button),
and expectant third progeny (male fetus)
existence extinguished by, "killer"
the husband, who went
into a deadly tie raid
now guilt upon
his conscious heavily weighed.
A man grew up in not having a pet
There’s a happening that will transpire that will be a regret
His thought today that is takes a lot of responsibility and care
The man being Harry by name was walking down the street, and discovers a female pitbull puppy wet, dirty, frightened full of fear and deserted behind some trash cans from the rain
Seeing that, Harry picked up the lonely puppy and took her home
Harry showed his Wife, and said that they will only let her stay overnight then take her to the Vet to be medically checked out
There’s seem to be a love attachment beginning
Harry cleaned the dog and made sure the puppy was fed
He hugged and felt in love with the puppy and named her “LOVELY”
Lovely was cute as a button and sweet
Lovely would often be in Harry’s lap
It seems the idea of not having a pet in his childhood is going to change in his adulthood
Man’s best friend in the house
Harry hesitated to give the Lovely up, but was going to raise the puppy himself and adopt
Lovely sensed love from Harry’s heart, and knew she found a home for all time
It was extending trust from lovely’s heart
Love forever endured
A doggie’s love of appreciation that never stopped
Carefree freedom
Lovely simply being loving.
Buttons for game pieces, buttons on totes,
Buttons on toys, shoes, sweaters and coats.
Buttons that open and buttons that close
On pockets and purses and edges of clothes.
Buttons that decorate; buttons that don’t.
Buttons I'm sure to lose; buttons I won’t.
Buttons as filler for bean bags and such.
Buttons collected are not used so much!
Buttons on greeting cards and on jewelry!
Thousands of buttons adorning a tree!
Buttons to reset , to turn on a light.
There’s “Cute as a button” and also as “bright“!
Button up (but not down); push them “hot” (but not cold);
“Button your lip” and do as your told!
Though buttons may vanish one day from earth,
We'll wear on our bellies - buttons since birth!
She's a pure Southern girl
Fried deep in hospitality
Beautiful as a magnolia bloom
Standing tall in majesty
Talks with a sweet syrupy drawl
As cane sugar seeps from her pores
Cute as a button and that is not all
Picture perfect as the girl next door
Honeysuckle ripe on the vine
More than enough sweet to fill your needs
Chasing fireflies in the middle of flight
Giving off just enough light to keep you intrigued
She's a pure Southern girl
Stands out in a crowd
Laughs out loud so easily
She'll give you the time and make you her world
She loves passing the time
On a green mountainside or a tan sunny beach
Any place in life suits her just fine
As long as it's down South within her Southern charms reach
With a flip of the coin, she gives you a choice
And she'll be the one you choose
A pure Southern girl is all that she is
And all that she'll ever do
Beloved daughter dubbed "Munchkin",
an appellation engineered by "mother"
now evinces enviable survival skills,
this papa dismissed himself attaining,
and though sites set
to attain satisfactory income
courtesy asper keeping
your inherited Semitic
nose to the grindstone
(cute as a button)
toward fiercely dedicated
academic success to
acquire Bachelor's Degree
objective self instilled since "star student" -
(another moniker the missus aptly affixed)
amply proven successfully completing
undergraduate engineering degree
(a minor in je nais sais quois French),
this from storied high achieving Ivy League
University founded by Benjamin Franklin
this "sir" once again
applauds laudatory milestone,
and additionally acknowledges
sincere appreciation surrendering
veritable treasure trove
commestibles, toiletries, vitamins...
allowing unswerving selflessness
to kindle tears of utmost gratitude
figurative biological dice throw
now embarks upon admirable
self reliant (no batteries needed)
time tested personal conviction
proving steely mettle with panache,
despite fallings out
undermining rapport during yesteryear,
when dada felt important,
evinced kibitizing, pampering,
reading requested stories,
(yea even Harry Potter - now passe)
aware how mine debauchery,
who set poor flagrant example
posited ye to escape appalling
financial, emotional, spiritual...
domestic conditions
ye understandably
envisioning more ideal legal guardian,
asper loco parentis
thus parting equals bittersweet
sorrow for dada, whose bottled anger
directly linkedin to opprobrious
selfish misdeeds compromising
psychological welfare two precious progeny
whose presence provided joie de vivre,
and never wanted restraint imposed
maturing into an admirable young lady,
no matter sentiments towards me
poisoned by toxicity, whose
predilection to debilitating panic
undermined, restrained, quashed...
necessary needs and wants
to nourish healthiness...
despite aggravating, hellbent
nerve wracking time consuming
odiously infernal exhausting
drive to accept donations,
i.e. personal belongings...
dada doth care for thee!
A New Life
When a baby is born, it's like a fresh spring day
Being a healthy one is what all parents pray
The pain and struggle a mother indulges
With bigger breast and stomach that bulges
Cute as a button when they arrive
The kicking, the moving, the feeling inside
Men are clueless of all the pain, I'm sure
They have no clue what women endure
Seeing the little hands and the little people feet
The very first look is a mother's best treat
Cuddle the little one against her chest
Feeding with milk from mothers breast
Men take notice of your beautiful wife
Who just created a beautiful life
Hold them and hug them but not too tight
Close to you, the feeling is right
Hold the tiny hands rub their little feet
Promise your love your promise to keep
Mother and child a beautiful sight
Not looking forward to the restless nights
A child being born is a feeling of spring
To create a new life is a lovely thing.
Lpickard
Copyright © William Pickard
I woke up very early this morning, restless and bothered, itchy for the day to happen. As dawn broke orange, the city was revealed. I’ll never get tired of watching that. The snow was gone but a gloss over the city streets indicated ice. I scanned the landscape for movement - for life - like a predator.
Lisa and I are headed back to school today, at 11am, by air, which our parents feel is the best way to avoid our old, holiday nemesis omicron (doesn’t that make us sound like secret agents?).
Once everyone was finally up, Lisa and I got our busy-on, doing the last load of laundry and final packing. Lisa, packs a suitcase, by throwing clothes in without bothering to fold them, while I meticulously fold and roll my clothes, like a marine headed for deployment.
As Lisa and I worked, Leeza (12) was lying on Lisa’s bed, on her back with her head hanging over the edge - watching us pack upside down. Her red hair looked like a thrown plate of spaghetti.
Leeza was talk, talk, talking and gnawing on a toasted bagel at the same time. “How do you feel about going back to school?” she asked us. “OH, feelings!” I gasped, “A free therapy session!” “No, really,” she said, grown serious and rolling right side up.
Leeza is cute as a button and vulnerable - I could almost feel her anxiety. As the youngest sibling I’d been left behind too - you don’t want the holiday to end and your big sister to leave - it’s a singularly lonesome feeling. I wanted to grab her, like a puppy, wrestle her and tell her I love her and I’d miss her - like my sister used to do with me. I decided that as soon as we were done packing, I would.
“My GOD,” Lisa said to Leeza, “will you PLEASE shut up! I have to think.” Leeza blushed and shrugged “I’m just making conversation, grump-face, you’ve packed a million times before haven’t you?” “Does counting to 10 make murder premeditated?” Lisa asked the ceiling.
Suddenly, Lisa dropped the blouse she’d been holding and pounced on Leeza, tickling her as she squealed with delight. In a second they’d become a ball of flailing arms, legs, hair and playful noise. I slunk out of the room to give them their sister’s goodbye.
Besides, I smelled bacon.