Long Moustaches Poems
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Grandma Teresina Cavicchio,
best pizza fritta maker
in all of Marianna, PA.
Probably the whole world!
Her fried pizza dough, dusted
with powdered sugar,
bellissima!
Lightly browned outside,
creamy in the inside,
it was the stuff
of mouth-watering dreams.
My three sisters and I
lined up in Nonna’s kitchen, chanted,
“Pizza Fritta, good to eat-a,
give me some, it is a treat-a!”
Her apron white with snowy sugar,
her ample arms coated in flour,
she never failed to please us.
Though I’ll never have Nonna’s
pizza fritta again,
I picture St. Peter and the angels,
powdered sugar moustaches,
greasy lips and beatific smiles,
gathering round Nonna.
"Pizza fritta, good to eat-a,
give us some, a heavenly treat-a."
He captured childhood, never let it go,
Sidestepped the potholes of “growing up”
Never forgot that ice cream is better when shared
Popsicles meant to be broken in two
Throwing stones in the pond an avocation
Skipping them….an art
He still slurps his soup as taste has consequences
Milk moustaches, especially chocolate, an art form
He still wipes his hands on his pants
Will pet a wet dog, tell “that” joke again
Wear that favorite frayed flannel
Flirt with the cashier at the super market
He will make fun of everything and everyone
And sometimes keep it to himself
More often though he leaves them shaking their heads
Wondering…”when will he ever grow up”
He knows, that they know, the answer
Probably never…if we’re lucky
Grace was full of joy, happiness, frolicking with mirth.
Could hotfoot it across a ballroom in spite of her girth.
Her tomfoolery had us in stitches most of the time.
I believe she said she weighed four hundred and nine.
Some people were turned off by her corpulent face.
I was not one of them, I adored our friend, Little Grace.
She brought so many stories to the table, all of them great.
A fabulous guest, she never stayed too long or too late.
Little Grace is coming! I would tell the kids. Hide your dolls.
She loved to paint moustaches on them and take off their falls
Don’t get me wrong, the children adored Little Grace too.
Animated and enthusiastic, she always knew what to say and do.
OLD AND NEW 2 : BOARDROOM
Jackal preyed on dimpled dolls
smiling gold on slender wrist
nosing down a slippery path
scowling schoolboy promoted
beyond his mediocre castle
Mammals sat on polished teak
coiffed moustaches, tonged peaks
feeding unclipped grapevines
old words and wounds
eating raisin muffins
Falcon scribbled notes
watching eyes serving
newly ordained masters
legalese from a previous
age flowed from fine shifting
fingers in a cage
Overgrown thyroid sat there
his infantry lost in teeming
townships blaring transistors
interrogators of another time
peeped at a polished tiger-eye
on his seat
Minds like noisy tools
drilled atomic holes in
the boardroom table
beaded headdresses falling
from fat oozing french seams
They will learn Christmas carols
in mint retirement homes
when the table losses its legs
©GhairoDanielsPoetry1997
As the rooster crows:
A look in the pool mirrored a perfect mop
At times of frizzy hair or defiant shaggy tresses
Ohhh the satisfaction at the sight
And yabba, dabba, doo!! echoed loud and clear
Triumphant male ego at its best!
A man’s crowning glory
Pulled, cut, brushed, curled, straightened, shaved
Lathered, gelled, creamed and pasted
Soaked in fragrant macassar oil
Invigorator, conditioning both groom and style.
Macho, gentle, sweet, daring tastes
Side-partings, medium, undercut and long
Sporting pony-tails, short back and sides
Elvis and James Dean quiffs curled kiss-me-quicks,
Punk, mohawk, flambouyant fringes
Highlights and lowlights, sprays and blow-dries!
All part and parcel of male vanity and crowning glory.
Heckles from the hen house:
As some men grow older they shed hair.
Each day they seek strands that were once there,
But skin patches widen --
Just check out Joe Biden.
Prepare to shut eyes in the bright glare.
A comb-over seems like a good plan,
But ladies don’t flock to a con man.
With 10 hairs remaining,
A “crown” they are feigning.
What happens when strands face a wind fan?
No reason for men to grow manic;
Moustaches and beards can work magic,
Diverting attention
Without the pretension
That balding is simply too tragic.
The “rug” method’s just too expensive,
Espec’ly when loss is extensive.
Like Telly Savalas,
The outcome’s not callous --
Few women find baldness offensive!
-----------------------------------------------
With special thanks to Carolyn Devonshire
with whom this fun write was written.
I Recently Found Out
Recently I found out light is
afraid of
dried figs, (figs are
fascinated by
anything square-shaped); ice block sticks are into
lounges and
cars; pastry grow facial hair and
grow pubic hair; Mr Ironic plays the
violin; Mrs Stun gun bathes in
red wine. To
hurt Mr Jeans’ feelings all you have to
do is lower your
eyebrows; pool chlorine wants to be a
cat so it can
lick itself; free moustaches can
juggle worms; eggplants have
laughing fits when
the temperature goes
below zero; brown sugar has a
better smelling ability than
dogs have; white sugar can
type 120 words per minute; lemons can dream and
narrate documentaries on
any subject; sling shots are
huge fans of
the Golden Age of
Hollywood.