Long Itty bitty Poems
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Invisible to the naked eye
traumatization (courtesy
chastising and reproaching -
by fellow classmates
and later in life
birth parents and inlaws
dealt hefty figurative jab)
tremendously impacted yours truly
analogous to him moving bajillion miles away
compounded by his withdrawn demeanor
diagnosed when he reached middle adulthood
as schizoid personality disorder,
thus exhibiting obvious developmental delay
bullied courtesy nasty brutes,
who scapegoated and rejoiced
with hip hip hurray,
meanwhile I experienced
terrible psychological melee
escaping to safe confines of bedroom,
where I wanted to stay
for mine remaining years of life.
Retrospective review
now approaching my doddering old age
constituted more'n one cruel (cheap) trick
played on super tramping urchin,
who traipes across virtual global stage
ensnared within whorled webbed wide
spending his hard earned itty bitty wage
spinning one strand after another.
Turtle so slow
Has emerged from below
How does he breathe down there
Without any air
Don’t ask me how
At least not just now
I’m feeling a bit peckish
And could stand a nice fish dish
Earlier, I saw some bass
Hiding here in the grass
Ah, I see you there
Swum by with no care
I will have you my pretty
Though you are itty bitty
With a frawnk and a swoop
I will fly around my loop
What’s that in the deep water
By that pesky old otter
Shinny shad make nice meals
If I can just close the deal
It will never sense my presence
And I will leave only my oily essence
A last lunge and a lurch
And I’m off to my perch
I’m the most graceful of birds by the way
And really should be in a Monet
Rebecca wrinkles her itty bitty nose and giggles
Loads of soapy bubbles almost over her head
Warm soothing water still running noisily
Holding on to her precious Little Mermaid doll
Rebecca reaches over to quiet the flow
Ah the echo of silence! How magically delightful !
Now her singing lesson can begin
As she plays with her mermaid friend
Reenacting a world of aquatic fantasy
Belting out every Little Mermaid song
One day Rebecca will be a superstar
But today she’s just another mermaid having fun
AP: 2nd place 2020
Submitted on March 30, 2019 for contest SPECIFICITY IN POETRY sponsored by SHERI FRESONKE HARPER - RANKED 5TH
"Homeless"
I found a little turtle,
I assign it to my favorite green shoe box
I guess I over spoiled him, with one simple, pretty punk rock
He does not mind, when I hold him in my handbag
His presence makes me feel as if nothing will sound faulty
On the day I discovered he was sick
He scratched my finger twice
I tossed the turtle, back into the woods
The next thing you know,
He sat pretty under his shell, on my front steps
Here, I go again
I took it back inside by morning light
Weeks went by,
I told him I was bored of cleaning up his Poo
On the spur of the moment I had the itch to eat turtle stew
As time got by, so did his box and my castle
Everything between the turtle and I, became into a tussle
My little turtle my buddy, what should I feed you,
I ran out of money, all I had was a six pack of Mountain dew
This homless moment, felt like eternity
It was time, to set my turtle free
My tiny friend, with a hard shell, found many turtle girls
My itty bitty turtle tore them all up in two
Lucky me now I get to eat some real turtle stew. :)
By: ME
I have been keeping secrets since I was a small girl
mammoth, gigantic secrets
little teeny, tiny, mini ones
I am an expert at the hush-hush
very good at top-secret
tell me and my lips are sealed
I will keep your disclosure under wraps
you can confide in me
I will never tell
all the enormous, monster secrets
or the itsy-bitsy
itty-bitty peculiar ones-
one day mother whispered in my ear
a very particular secret
she made me promise to keep it concealed
to never tell even to close family
that was years ago-
people have tried to pressure me
but I made a secret pact that day
even though mother died the secret lives
I have it tucked away in my head
but just in case, I wrote it down on paper
and put in a hidden place
that only I know-
it is a very specific thing
that I keep in a hidden drawer down a secret passageway
I bet you would like to know
NEVER, it is classified, you can torture me and the answer is NO
but I will give you a tiny, significant taste
it is a special ingredient
to a top SECRET recipe . . .
________________________________
December 5, 2017
Poetry/Free Verse/'a top secret, secret'
Copyright Protected, ID 17-9688-60-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, A Special Secret
sponsor, Lewis Raynes
Second Place
yes indeed life is not fair
why would the end be any different
we lose the people we love most
it breaks our heart and
shatters it in a million pieces
oh what a void it leaves
only the good die young
imagine if death was fair
some kind of logical exit strategy
we could wrap our head around
something we could accept
at least vaguely understand
but that will never be
oh no ~ only the good die young
while others freely roam the earth
miserly bitter in their quest
inciting strife at every chance
their itty bitty shriveled hearts
at home sitting on a shelf
soaking in formaldehyde
oh yes ~ only the good die young
what a waste and somehow
we have to bite our tongue
we have to grin and bear it
live with the injustice of it all
maybe even find meaning
it’s just the way it is
and not about to change
Read on air by invitation ~ May 28, 2021 'WORDS & MUSIC'
AP: 2nd place 2022
Mardi Gras parades are rolling the streets again
I watched 'Isis' from inside my windowpane
A king and a queen were pretending to reign
but from the colorful revelry I chose to abstain
I grew up yelling, "Throw me something mister!"
Going to many parades with friends and my sister.
Walked miles on St. Charles Ave. and got a blister
and smiled when a float rider said, "I kissed her!"
I've ridden in several carnival krewes around the city
The floats, the long beads and costumes are pretty
I sang Prof. Longhair's "Go to the Mardi Gras" ditty
but I don't miss taking part. Not one itty bitty.
I began this poem thinking I'd correct a mistake
the BS poet wrote about a breakfast of pancakes.
No one eats that on Mardi Gras. For heaven's sake!
I told him, "Everyone gets Popeye's when they wake"
He read my comment and corrected the wrong date.
I told him he was off by a week, and he didn't hesitate
to delete my words, so I returned, not out of hate
but to ask him why he did that... my curiosity to sate
Another deletion without an explanation. That's BS!
So, I relied on myself to come up with a good guess.
I'd ruffled his ego, making it hard for him to confess
that he knew nothing about Fat Tuesday. He's a mess.
“Every wall that would entrap me has a door that would free me. And I languish because the fear of freedom often leaves me preferring the familiarity of the wall.” Craig D. Lounsbrough
I'm languishing in self-pity
My cat is lost in the city
Grieving for my itty bitty
Missing kitty Missing kitty
Again, I find myself alone
Nobody calls me on the phone
Weeping for loved ones I have known
Fate, I bemoan Fate, I bemoan
A poet languishes each time
He seems to be bereft of rhyme
Unable to write poems, sublime
It is a crime It is a crime
Artists languish in mortal fear
that their paintings will bring a tear
Like Van Gogh who lobbed off an ear
End of career End of career
Who has not languished in despair
pining over things hard to bear
Anguish reveals how much we care
Heartache beware Heartache beware
I’m roused from precious sleep, instantly alert.
Listening for you.
It's a skill all mothers master,
flipping the switch from asleep to awake.
I remember when sleep was an ocean,
endless depths of waves and dreams.
Tranquil, restful, lovely.
Now sleep is fragmented,
like a shallow puddle often stirred by little feet.
You can’t help but splash through it.
And I don’t mind. Most of the time.
Sure enough, the door creaks
and tiny footsteps patter across the floor.
You stop beside the bed,
thumb firmly in your mouth.
Itty Bitty Bunny tucked lovingly under one arm.
Your blond hair looks almost blue in the dark,
sticking to your sleepy face.
I lift you into bed,
half-noticing you feel heavier.
You're getting bigger every day.
No longer my baby, but always my baby.
You nestle into my side,
pulling on the blanket, hogging the pillow.
Your breathing is already steady,
and I know you feel so safe
tucked against your mom.
How I love being your mom!
My body is so tired, but my mind is so awake.
I’m not ready for sleep to pull the curtain across this moment.
You’re a ball of heat beside me,
a source of warmth – the greatest comfort
in a world growing so cold.
I’ll take fragments of sleep, always,
in exchange for these moments.
And you can have the tranquil ocean,
dreaming sweet dreams
for you and for me.
Red
I can see it still
The most brilliant red
I have ever seen
Years ago
Out with the dog
Cutting through the trees
In the undergrowth appeared
Flashing right in front of me
A dazzling ruby
Unreal at first
More like a dream
Like seeing a fairy
I thought I was hallucinating
The only thing there
Was an itty bitty bird dressed in olive green
It flitted about mere inches from me
Dispensing chipper notes
Doing its own thing
Then it happened again
That brilliant shock of red
To my surprise and delight
It was a hidden crest
Red of deepest purest hue
Graced the feathers
Of this tiny sovereign's head
You
The sweetest little king
The first time I saw you
I will never forget
Forever my lord
My Ruby Crowned Kinglet