Long Nose in the air Poems
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Nestle in deep slumber the mighty Kublai dreams
of lapping cold milk, eating fresh meat, running wild
with hundreds of his doggie friends
Little Genghis shoots up from bed and darts out
running to room to room to sniff and search for what abouts
finding Kublai asleep on his fluffy pillow bed
He sniffs him gingerly and retreats under the adjoining chair
Peeking through the curtains a stream of sunlight
embraces the mighty Kublai and he stretches in place
sits himself up and has a good long yawn
He steps off his bed as if he was sleep walking
and within an blink of an eye
A snarl a flash a quick ten yaps, the little Genghis
is on the attack, he jumps he jives on Kublai hide
then just as quick he runs away and hides
Kublai stumbles back on his rump, shakes his sleepy heavy head
looks confused and tries again to stumble up-BUT
BOOM! the attack resumes happy growls awake you pal
as Genghis barks and snaps won't shut his trap
then just as sudden disappears
Kublai shakes it off, softly coughs and nudges his way back to bed
lies himself down with an irritable frown and lays down his sleepy head
Genghis purrs into a growl getting ready to pounce his pal
But I open a bag of doggie jerky treats
Kublai immediately stands on his four feet
Eyes wide open nose in the air, he zooms so fast without a care
Genghis planning another attack but with Kublai barging
gets slapped back, flipped over and rolls under the chair like a cat
Kublai will have no more of that
He greedily grabs his doggie treat
the taste of morning now so sweet
Little Genghis finally got it back
no more of his morning guerrilla attacks
Genghis gets his jerky treat runs and hides in defeat
Mighty Kublai licks his lips savors the flavor of treat he gets
What a way to begin my day nothing really left to say
no TV shows could bring me the joys
of the silly antics of my little morning boys
Just for the sake of saying "hello"
Courtesy garden variety/generic common Joe
who strives to achieve becoming
(even posthumously)
an esteemed writer likened to outstanding poe
whit – perhaps illusions
of grandeur must be reined in
courtesy horse sense and Whoa!
A short time ago today
(the ides of March 2021)
upon returning from nearest LIDL
(located at 1831 E Ridge Pike,
Royersford, Pennsylvania 19468
Latitude: 40.1845 Longitude: -75.5360),
I realized too late the opportunity
to exchange pleasant greetings
with another resident (a young man,
who shares a similar physique
to yours truly).
Preoccupied removing comestibles -
predominantly nine plastic
gallon jugs of distilled water
(tightly packed within large suitcase,
which luggage formerly
belonged to Boyce Harris - papa)
the notion occurred
(ex post facto).
Cursory aforementioned observation,
(viz forfeited interpersonal opportunity)
unexpectedly impetus awoke
regarding said unnamed bloke
(who I've seen scant
number of times before)
friendly exchange thus didst evoke
idea to craft poem,
cuz pleasant demeanor
generates figurative chain reaction
livingsocial among other
(mostly elderly) folk
here at Highland Manor
this credo to befriend others I invoke
(by Dickens) with little
or no great expectations
motivates me to risk
playing game of life no joke,
but good humor a masterstroke,
one generic American notes tis oak
kay for yours truly not to poke
intrusively, (albeit rudely
he thinks) and possibly also stoke
antipathy by ignoring
formalities of pleasantness
in either case saddle and yoke
me with unflattering
nom de plume.
Additionally I will allow
enable, and provide tolerance
if recipient of mine genuine
companionable intent
declines overture as potential
future bosom buddy
and/or sounding board,
plus will defend self
against blistering, excoriating, scathing...
metaphorical nonetheless hurtful assaults
against mine brow
will not figurative undermine
paltry self esteem, but endow
redoubled effort to risk
making acquaintance(s) and consort
with persons who cross my path
their nose in the air
trumpeting arrogance and how
never be deterred toward livingsocial
such personal promise I vow.
Yes George! There is a Santa Claus!
The troops want out.
But you want to pout.
With your nose in the air.
A great big snout.
The war in Iraq.
We know it is past.
We know it is past.
But you want to laugh.
You don't have to lie.
You should actually cry.
Yes George! There is a Santa Claus!
Many have died.
While many have cried.
It's time to pull out.
It's time to go home.
The end of the war.
The end of a sore nose.
So lower your great big snout.
Because it is definitely.
Seriously, time to get out..
End Of War-Poem-By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2006,2015..ALL rights reserved..
Note-Poem was actually written on Dec 05,2006:
(Only 2-years before George W.Bush left the White House) :
Where the Foxes Wander
Through the mist of dandelion seeds
That float across the dew filled field
The dancing seeds part majestically
The grass bends the stalks do yield
His nose in the air,
Between the mist of seeds
Eyes darting left and right
Taking in the field of weeds
Stepping forward cautiously
One step in front of the other
Its then another fox appears
A vixen with cubs - a mother.
The fox runs forward not looking back
The mother nips at the cubs
They lie still, hidden they think
The fox returns and noses rub.
He leads the way through open space
Fox, vixen, and offspring
To the chicken run next door
But should I do anything?
The large brown hens pecking dirt
The fox his eye on one
The cockerel then starts to crow
The sly fox is now undone.
© GG 17/06/2013
I went on a bike ride, I was hyper-alert
I had just emerged from the mental ward
I thought I was despised, felt wounded and hurt
But I lied to the doctor to get out the door
For the first miles I felt the wind in my hair
Then a car drove by, I heard a loud jeer
It was just a dog with his nose in the air
I had mistaken my species, all was clear.
Two miles on, an ambush from the side
A loud sneer, I felt sudden stress
On closer look, a Downs Syndrome guy
I let out my breath, stress got less.
Got into Kingston, car passed, a shout
"Go Home" it said, and then passed by
Was this true, should I block it out?
Why riff off a chord, if the chord don't apply?
Ten miles later, a hand reached out of a car
Tried to push me off the road
They failed, but threw my mind's door ajar
Stress climbed, I felt I would explode.
I crested a hill, a view opened wide
Then I started to think, was it all the same?
Why get anxious, on this scenic ride?
My illusions and theirs - it' was all a game.
Pepper the pink and red poodle with her nose in the air
Walked down the runway without a concern or care
She knew the peons were watching her swag
But barely gave them even the hint of a wag
These dogs are beneath me, I am the great one, she thought
Pepper the Perfect did what she needed, did what she ought
She marched down that runway in an elegant way.
Not caring about the mongrels who were watching that day
Her reds and her pinks were made by famous fashion designer Glee.
He only designed for a few actresses and film stars as important as she.
Pepper had given him his start, and she did this as a favor to him.
He had asked her to smile, but that would have cost extra with vim.
A long time ago on a hot summer's day,
a fox was out strolling his own merry way.
He came to an orchard with blossoms so fine
and, looking up, saw grapes on a high, lofty vine.
"Ah, the very thing to quench my thirst" said he,
with an air that was so nonchalant and carefree.
Walking back a few steps, he took a run and a jump
but just missed the bunch, then landed with a thump.
He tried again and again but made no progress
and became frustrated at his lack of success.
He tried one more time but, to his dismay,
realized it was futile and so walked away.
With his nose in the air and an angry glower,
he grumbled "I am sure that those grapes are just sour."
So please remember these words and have no regret:
It is easy to scorn what you can't get.
The Muse
The Muse sleeps, hidden in the mists of time.!
Her words, her whispers, her songs are my stolen fantasy’s.
How can you love someone you cannot see?
Why me, I ask? I feel like a thief,
I write these words knowing they’re not mine!
She sees our world of fears. Lives of terror, Lives of tears.
She sings these words in whispers to me,
And kisses away the pain from my eyes.
She takes… the sadness from my heart
And turns my fears into a smile and makes them dance.
But then I turned away, If only I had taken the time:
The soft beating of hearts, lost in the mists of time.
Listen, just listen to the soft beating of her wings,
Now as she whispers in my ears, Distracted I’m not listening.
And now.
She has nothing to say, I was her lover, but I turned away.
Deaf to her heartbeats, The flutter of her wings,
Now her heart is broken. Her whispers have fallen away,
I was afraid to listen. to the whispers she sang to me,
With my heart instead of my ears, Afraid I just walked away,
My nose in the air, as if I didn’t care.
The tears in her eyes,
The soft beating of her wings.
Where are you going?
Where are you going,
Tell me please!
Now she sleeps in her soft bed, the gentle wind.
And I dream of her broken heart,
Her dance, her words, her whispers now lost to me.
Lost In the mists of time.
(c) London F. Bus. 2022
Dooshay the Clown, with an evil smile so wide,
So ugly and scary he made people run and hide.
Dooshay was loud, rude, arrogant and mean
He was the most unfunny clown I have ever seen.
Dooshay was truly sinister with ice blue eyes that would stare
His lack of personal hygiene, brought a rotten stench to the air.
"I am the smartest clown to ever live!" he would loudly proclaim,
Bullying others was his sick little game.
He thought he was the most handsome clown ever, second to none
But he was morbidly obese, dumber than a rock and not very fun.
The loved looking in the mirror, thinking no other clown can compare.
He believed that no circus could find a more amazing clown anywhere
Dooshay had a short fuse. His temper tantrums were like an angry storm.
He had little regard for others. His heart was far from warm.
He was cruel and manipulative and enjoyed gaslighting.
He loved starting trouble and enjoyed fighting.
Dooshay had a sense of superiority, he thought he had lots of wits and smarts.
He was smug and pretentious and was in love with the smell of his own farts.
He thought he was a ladies man, beautiful women were his to pick.
He was unaware that no one wanted his flacid little deek.
Dooshay, walked with his red nose in the air as he strutted so proud,
He would get cry and pout when he heard no cheers from the crowd.
Behind his back they would mock him and roll their eyes.
Dooshay the Clown was such a good liar that he believed his own lies.
Looking at us with the gesture of impudence
Seeing us often can't be an coincidence
Cup and sign in our hand, asking for help
Hungry, desperate and have not slept
Reached out to hug your family with a tenacious grip
Looking at us like we're contagious; hand over lip
Pass by quickly, nose in the air with a frown
Please, don't glare at us whilst we're down
So, don't patronize us with your dry, "Sorry"
Of course we don't matter; that's your story
Take time out to hear some of our stories
Many of our lives had plenty of glories
Frequent the area, get to know some or all us
Next time it can be a chat instead of disgust
Respect us, we respect you
We matter just as you do
Unity starts within the community
Love and compassion unite humanity!