Long Pushy Poems
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Oh no! It’s those pushy snow pigs the cow lamented loudly.
You mean the knitters who announce their wares proudly?
Oh, yes, the cat replied. They are selling mittens and caps.
Can’t we buy those things online on one of those Amazon apps?
Let’s not be so hasty the rooster said, coming in crowing.
Those warm fuzzy caps come in handy when it is snowing.
Geese flying over in the shape of an inverted vee
Yelled down “Happy sale day, Ms. Sow and McPhee.”
The horse ran to their side to see what they were selling.
There was an old farmer there and he was hopping and yelling.
That’s too much!! I only have twenty-eight dollars and two cents.
Geese landed and bought all the scarves, but they caught on a fence.
The geese are all strangled! A hen said. They are all dead.
McPhee and Ms Sow did not mind. Their haul had put them in the red.
The farmer was astounded, and had to go without a cap.
I guess he’ll have to buy one on that Amazon app.
"I saw some road kill on my way over," she said.
She had a horse laugh. "Just a dumb raccoon," she added.
I leapt over the sink and slapped her, hard.
Leaving my entire hand print on her cheek in pink.
Her prissy stuck-up lady face looked stunned.
She stood up, and ran off without any more incessant yapping.
My husband walked out of his man-cave just in time to
see her running flat out past the picture window, clutching her purse.
"Playing with the new neighbor?" He guessed.
I glared at him.
"The woman pushed her way in with a 'yoo hoo', She was not invited."
"She doesn't share your love for animals?" he guessed.
Oscar Opossum pushes open the cupboard doors under the sink, wanders out and chomps noisily from the dog bowl.
Sophie, our most spoiled cocker spaniel growls.
Reggie Raccoon runs over and slaps Sophie.
"Look what you are teaching them!"
My husband says to me, horrified.
"Reggie is a raccoon," I inform him. "She TAUGHT slapping to me!"
I doubt this nosy neighbor will be back,
Which is a perk because I truly and deeply
Like my woodland creatures much more than pushy humans.
the vintage homecoming dress was donated in the middle of the night.
This is a small town, in 1972. There were no security cameras.
Sue, the shop owner had asked for vintage dresses for her window display.
She had no idea what inferno of questions was going to come to her.
Sue was new in town, did not know about Peggy Lee, who was missing.
Twenty-two years now, and no one knew where she was or if she was alive.
Peggy Lee’s mother was the first one in the store after the dress appeared.
Demanding to know where it had come from, but the shop owner did not know.
The police were there by two p.m. demanding answers.
This dress had been made for Peggy Lee’s prom by her mother.
Peggy Lee had disappeared that same night. Who had brought the dress?
Sue was horrified; she truly did not know; she found it in a box on her stoop.
The police took the dress out of the window.
Would they bring it back? No one told Sue anything.
The only person who knew anything stayed in a shadow, studying her mother.
She was the same pushy woman, with gray hair now; she was glad to rile her.
Vancouver looks flooded from this bridge
I see one lone brave water skier rounding a curve
It is November, but there are no biting wind chills
It is unrecognizably warm for Thanksgiving week
there are blotches and blips of leaves on the water
Oranges, tangerines and cinnamons twirling a bit
Let’s take a peek at the autumn faeries, I suggest
I hear one laugh, she sounds like a tingling chime
No one wants to take the hike, which is okay
Solitude is my preferred hobby, making photographs easier
no pushy humans demanding selfies and such
I linger for a while, now a fulfilled pirate queen
The certainty of possibility
that the developmental experts
would have our children believe in
during youth disturbs me. Power of positive
thinking: possess it, and accomplish
all you will set out to do…
I’ve tested positive.
And, now, the prognosis does
not appear to look very good.
“Better get your house in order.”
Go figure: The chaos designed or
lit upon used to comfort and/or
suggest repose.
Nothing like a good mess
to make you appear
laid back –
evidence of a careless mind
at ease…
“Nothing can stop it now.”
Time marches on, and I’ve a cliché to beat
away, a fight on my hands.
Damned pacifist.
Lazy bones. Victim.
Come on in:
make yourself at home;
share a coffee or some chopped
liver, morsel of my people, the Jews,
who’d have you eat despite your desires
not to chew on it – that’s just their way to
get pushy with a guest.
"Don’t get out of line, now."
But what if you had nothing to lose?
Would you build a bomb?
Blow your house to smithereens
just to witness the burning, smoldering, ash?
(Some idealist I’ve turned out to be.)
"Are you positive?"
It’s asked innocently enough.
But, still, one can never be sure.
I never bend, but I had to,
Her to understand I had to.
Revoking my life’s firm resolve,
Spoil a pushy friend I had to.
She came as if from nowhere-land,
My all to her lend I had to.
I always had walked my own ways,
Go the way cats wend, I had to.
I could stand no cats in my life,
But seeing her mend I had to.
I often find her in the wrong,
Yet, to defend her I had to.
I prided me as my own man,
Bend to her command I had to.
_____________________
Ghazal |25.01.2023| cat, humour, she, wife
Poet’s note: When a pussy cat became a pushy pat in my house…. But wait, a pussy cat or a pushy girl or wife in one’s life, it makes little difference and matters little for this tongue-in-cheek ghazal.
In "The Shootist", J.B. Books is not feeling up to snuff.
He has cancer. What are the concerns
of a man dying.
To die
commensurate with the way he lived his life.
Books dies in a gunfight.
McIntosh dies in the desert, under a broken wagon,
fighting Indians.
Norman Thayer will die of heart failure
by the side of his wife, Ethel.
Two police officers
die investigating a stolen moped at a gas station
in the Bronx.
One buys it between the eyes, the other in the back.
The killer out on early parole
from a manslaughter rap.
The DA blames the judge, the judge blames the parole board,
and the board says the jails are overcrowded.
What should I be doing, old turtle.
Devote myself to re-order the world
or crawl off to a lonely spot and preserve myself.
We are trying
to educate everyone to their individual capacities
and see that all are fed, clothed and sheltered adequately.
Because the suffering of one citizen makes suffering
for another, the slow death of one sometimes makes
the sudden murder of another.
There is this
black rock we live on and its lovely mantle of green.
It is all that is perfect. And everything of it is
perfect that respects its integrity. On the subway
I was amused to find, hidden in the confused
mass of anonymous, bleak graffiti, unseen
by the studied, expressionless passengers,
in pink, delicate script, vertically written,
the word *****.
People are the element I live in.
The world is pushy, we are bone,
the numbers of us overwhelm.
It is going to be hot again soon
and the Bronx will actively resent it.
Books dies in Carson City,
only two or three people will miss him at all.
He died alone as he lived,
with his enemies.
Prevarication permits pretend perception, presenting
piquantly piqued, pimply pimping playboy, plucky
pulchritudinous previously pusillanimous, prevalently
puckish, psychic packman, pokemon playing proletarian
puppeteer pygmy, peevishly punky, plummy, plumy,
pompously pushy, pampered, prefabricated pinchbeck,
pokily plying plowshear, plodding peregrination, pied
piper pitifully peppy pornographic potato pealing,
parsimonious paradoxical protagonist, proposing
preposterous panicky pacification plots, prioritization
pertinent penultimate peroration, perhaps perceiving
perjuring, perplexing, perverting puzzling pronouncements
projecting pulsating pixelated pulpy pinball pinging
packets prompting pacific, poetic, phlegmatic purplish
psoriasis plagued, plumbum pallor pallid, Paleolithic
protuberance pronounced, psychosomatic prohibitionist,
polarizing perfunctory peculiarly progressive, patriotic
postmodern pathologically proud paternal panache,
peripatetic panaceas portraying prescient perfidious
puerile president, predominantly proposing parochial
principles, plenty public parking, purposefully
promoting pharisee phalanxes, pilates practicing
paragons, perennially peaceably proficient protesters,
profitable polygamy, pugnacious pitbull powerball
players, pandering polyandry, propagating professional
palindrome pensive peeping people, peddling,
proselytizing predicating prostitution, proliferating
phenomenally, populist persona promulgated peyote
phased physicians pioneering prescription promoting
paradisiacal pricey photographic pictures, placating
phrenetic physical perturbation partaking place
purchased (paid paltry pennies) por palatial piazza.
She came out of the chute with a song in her brain.
She sang it all the way home, leaving hospital, during a big rain.
How old is she? Her pleased grandma asked.
Twenty-six hours, her Dad and Mom basked.
She’ll be a singer. She is already a star!
She is better than you, Grandma said, “And I mean by far!”
The new parents laughed, a little nervously.
They knew how pushy this mama could be.
She had her in Vegas by the time she was four.
She had her dancing burlesque, and other stuff to deplore.
She sneaked her in, and she claimed she was her mother.
They learned her real age, after they located her brother.
Her irritated, exasperated mommy and daddy got on a plane,
They flew out to Vegas to rescue, their child, no longer tame.
The grandma got arrested, and put in Naughty Grandma Jail.
And if you believe this, you are now being swallowed by a whale.
Visitors I saw in my garden today were:
9 starlings noisily squabbling
1 duck casually waddling.
1 robin - a handsome little chap
1 bumble bee, that landed on my lap.
2 neighbouring cats, stalking the same prey
1 little mouse, who wears a coat of grey.
3 worms wiggle above the earth I dug
1 fat, juicy, giant, orange, slimy, greedy slug.
5 spiders spinning their intricate webs
1 fly cocooned, in delicate white threads.
3 frogs sitting by the garden pond
2 doves flirting, cooing as they bond.
8 skater bugs, danced the waters top
1 blue dragonfly, hovering near a flower pot.
2 brown butterflies resting on my fence
3 foaming snails, their second line defence.
1 pushy wasp, that wanted my half eaten bun
3 baby rabbits playing in the evening sun.
1 majestic blue peacock, from the neighbours farm
1 owl swooped in from the farmers barn.
2 swallows aerobatics, as they build their family nest
4 tiny bats skilled navigation, at it's very best.
Tomorrow will bring more visitors, some different and the same
The honour was all mine, for it was my garden to which they came.
15.06.22