Long Snug as a bug Poems
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an average of 2,830 cubic meters
per second of rich silt
forms an alluvial plain
spreads outward in a fan shape
from sedimentary deposit whereby
ancient Egyptian civilizations got built
adorning arid topography invaluable
like aorta pumping blood at the nape
of the neck, yet analogous context
engendered engineering feats without guilt
whereby artisans, craftsmen,
early geographers illustrated in frieze and drape
frozen timeless statuary exhibiting
phenomenal abilities to the hilt
associated from mainspring within
fertile crescent swollen like a plump grape
which longest river often overflows
banks whereby coveted materiel gets spilt
feeding the rift valley and allowing,
enabling and providing peoples to dominate
flooding the history of mankind
with accomplishments that marvel even today
epitomized by innovations -
alphabets, wheelwrights, pyramids, etc lives did create
baffling historians how each mortise and tenon
snug as a bug in a rug mortise and tenon block
construed edifices persons did intricately lay
perfect with near geometric exactitude
ranks as wonder of webbed wide world great
faint hints of daily trials and tribulations
recorded for posterity in clay
or shards of broken pottery pieced togethe
coupling revelations a mosaic plate
which functional artifacts
provided dietary staples
to pagan spirits populace did pray.
Home Is
If home is where the heart is
and if that's really true.
Then I know now that I'm at home
whenever I'm with you.
Like a single raindrop
nestled in a cloud above.
No fear of ever falling
I already fell in love.
Snug as a bug that's in a rug
or a flea on a hound dogs back!
A partridge in a pear tree
a train safely on its track.
Like salt that found its pepper
like sugar finding spice.
Like lace that's mixed with leather
or naughty mixed with nice.
Like stars that found their heaven
way up in the skies.
I know I found mine
when I looked in your eyes.
Like poetry and parables
like the beat that's in a song.
How can something feel so good
and yet still not be wrong.
It's like sunrise meets the morning
or sunset meeting night.
It happens without warning
nothing ever felt so right.
If home is where the heart is
and if that's really true.
Then I know now that I'm at home
whenever I'm with you.
Edwin C Hofert
Long interminable hours...
of darkness doth not compute
alternately titled:
The descent of dusk affects grapefruit
size or two (approximated
as clenched fisted) cerebral
specifically type of nervous tissue,
which made up of cells
called neurons and glial cells,
the brain a complex organ
that contains billions
of neurons and glial cells,
which work together
to process information,
control bodily functions,
and supports cognitive abilities
and priceless precious part of body
more precious than most any loot
far more powerful
than any "intelligent machine"
(take that artificial intelligence buffs)
with the ways and means to reboot
tightly integrated and neatly linkedin
snug as a bug in a rug donning a zootsuit.
The outer limits of the twilight zone
yields descent of dark shadows,
where the edge of night bleeds
and encompasses an infinite swath.
Circadian rhythm plays wickety wack
courtesy the suprachiasmatic nucleus (SCN)
analogous to a disc jockey playing a track
which just so happens to be
top of the billboard chart
band named Quack,
a host of indigenous Africans
as a gentle jab to KISS
paint their faces nonblack,
and the lead singer with a knack
to bring down the house,
which venue located in "Hackensack"
primarily refers to a city in New Jersey,
but the name's meaning comes
from an Algonquian (Lenape) word
meaning "mouth of a river,"
or possibly "stony ground" or "stream
that unites with another on low ground,"
according to sources like Dictionary.com,
Wikipedia, and Downtown Hackensack,
and interestingly enough the name given
by the Achkinckeshacky tribe,
also known as the Hackensacks,
who lived in the area
manifold times larger than the ENIAC
ENIAC - the acronym for
Electronic Numerical Integrator
And Computer refers
to one of the first electronic,
general-purpose digital computers,
developed for the U.S. Army
during World War II and built
to calculate artillery firing tables,
but completed after the war ended,
with its first task being
hydrogen bomb calculations
the brainchild of more than one brainiac.
Nothing boot toe till rot and duff feet...
Attempting nightly ritual
nsync with sole and
instep of beat
January second 21:08
two thousand twenty
footwear equipped with
custom made cleat
proudly standing tall
(think) as an elite
able, eager, and ready
to sprint skyhigh fleet
ting into netherlands
(towering well over
other wiry antennae thin contestants,
hence exception to
maximum height waved
outrageous illegitimate forfeit
chore blithely Atlas shrugged off),
whereby said marathoner Olympian
amidst godly pantheon did greet,
competitors crouched tigerlike
ironically melting starter blocks
deftly gunning generating barreling heat
fast as greased lightning
Achilles catapulted courtesy blur,
zee mist tree (oak kay)
man, i.e. helpmeet,
he roundly squared off
accompanied by his wifely entreat.
Thus situated, positioned, and finagled
husbandry duty obliging the misses,
no matter she kick started
(think thrashing outsize overgrown toddler)
childish task deemed
markedly cockameemie design,
subsequently these little feet (mine)
stood stolid upon bedroom floor
she did man date me,
I supplicated, necessitated,
implored, and decried divine
intercession, cuz thee mademoiselle
did authoritatively assign,
thee mister getting mine
handy dandy grip upon her supine
corpulent physique
outstretched leaden legs
awaiting (Abby) salute perfect sign
to commence powerfully
prying and pulling
first straight then nine
tee degrees practically prostrating self
footloose and eventually
detaching fancy free
thunder thighs, what strong
amazing anatomical design
nearly defying might
of super Matt nein
bird brainer heron,
an ill eagle cro-magnon scheme
to untie clodhoppers
snug as a bug in a rug,
whence laces got knotted
freaking me out clearly
out this world,
wide webbed formerly
Gordian tangled skein.
Pat the potato just sat in the ground
Wondering if he would ever be found
He couldn’t see anything there in the earth
So spent his days praying for all he was worth
Then the ground heaved as a metal spade dug
And Pat knew that soon he’d be snug as a bug
A new human home is what life is about
Potatoes must love it… They never come out
And when Pat was taken he couldn’t pretend
to be sad now that life in wet mud reached an end
His friends, left behind, heard the man shut his door
They knew Pat would be safe and sound evermore
Bertie the beanstalk was overly zealous
(although some potatoes thought he was just jealous)
He climbed to the window to take a quick look…
“I cannot see Pat, but they’ve taught him to cook.”
Potato Pete called out, “So, how do you know?”
Bertie called back, “Our friend Pat’s a no-show,
I can’t hear a thing but I read the man’s lips…
He said that potato made really nice chips.”
Groundhog day 2021 - Tuesday, February 2nd
Coincides with astronomy's cross-quarter day,
marking the midpoint between
winter solstice and spring equinox,
which will occur at 5:37 AM on
in Northern Hemisphere
Saturday, March 20.
Small consolation old man winter
spans fewest days
of all four seasons,
especially when massive nor'easter
predicted today January 31st, 2021
including within neck of woods
named Perkiomen Valley Pennsylvania.
Yours truly remembers
when spry Jack (hoar) Frost
(just yea high -
both arms stretched to sky)
came early, left late and bossed
vernal equinox
rattling barenaked branches
obviously inapropos
to budding friendship.
Now (courtesy global warming/ climate change)
mother nature experiences feeling strange
within valleys and atop many mountain range,
wherein goods traded away on stock exchange.
Fortunate concerning yours truly
versus daring to brave
inclement weather
getting stranded in the process
(possibly becoming gratefully dead)
risking life and limb venturing forth
amidst near whiteout conditions
creating debacle perilous and grave
shoveling snow lest he get buried
he can remain holed up
(in tandem with the missus)
snug as a bug in his mancave.
While nestled inside warm abode for awhile
(at least until temperature upwards doth dial
safely ensconced against elements (of style),
I stopped at metaphoric woods edge
trekking until... for no rhyme nor reason
the poetic metered equivalent,
viz another mile
then stopped for coffee break
burst of energy gave me cause to smile
fording imponderable stream of consciousness
impossible (airy) mission to dodge regarding
aforesaid daunting task to craft worthwhile
poetic endeavor to entertain anonymous readers
gleaning how one bard (with his shaky spear)
evokes fiction being snowbound
as if cast adrift within Siberian exile.
Straightaway I continue writing askew
aware how literary trademark modality
characteristic of Matthew
unwittingly indelibly embedded
analous to mine Caucasian
versus swarthy melanin hue
man automatically confers eligibility granting
innumerable known mighty opportunities
(privileged skin color - how unfair)
bigoted prejudices shade those,
either hashtagged as black, brown
naturally copper toned gentile and/or Jew.
Pillows and covers all over the floor,
No ones in my bed any more,
Used to cuddle snug as a bug,
Now the pillow is all I hug,
It's hard to sleep at night,
There's no one to hold tight,
The warmth of their body is now gone,
How am I to move on,
The dreams are still there,
Just no one with which to share,
They have said, I"ll die in my sleep,
Now I just lay there and weep,
My breathing is nice and slow,
But asleep I can't seem to go,
I feel around like I am blind,
But there still is no one to find,
I want to just slip away,
And forget about the whole day,
From under the covers I peep,
Sure wish I could get some sleep!
An Uncle Charlie Original
© 2008 unclecharlie
Form:
***Crazy Menagerie***
I definitely bit off more than I could chew,
when I came a-running to my friend's rescue
He said it was no big deal, a real snooze actually
to just please, please look after his cutie menagerie
He said everything was pretty much self-explanatory
just feel at home, and relax...he sure was being sneaky!
I thought the word "menagerie" was just an exaggeration,
but goodness me, I almost fainted when I was greeted by a python!
He just lay there by the foyer, quite snug as a bug on the rug
So I carefully stepped over it, and planned to make tea for my mug
I headed to the kitchen, when I heard something go squeak! squeak!
What was that? I wondered, then I let out a bloodcurdling shriek!
It flew right over my head, yikes, another one got me all panicky
My eyes bugged out as I realized that he had a couple of paniki*!!
I went rushing out the kitchen and ran straight into an aquarium
No cool fishies here, just mousies out of equilibrium
They were jumping up and down now, trying to escape
when I heard a suspicious grunt, it sounded like an ape!!
I was so scared to search for it, but curiosity won out
So I opened doors and cabinets, when I ran smack into a snout!
Ewwwww, I just realized that I just kissed an ugly pig!
I then remembered he kept one to go on truffle digs!
He said he had a cat though? Where were the common pets?
Ah, there it is; here, kitty, kitty, when I saw it was a ferret!
It was doing this weird dance, it hopped then bumped into me
I wigged out, then stepped right on the tail of that poor kitty!!
It lunged at me and I fell back onto aquarium glass
of course it had to teeter totter and I was too late, alas!!
It just hit the marble floor, then I heard that sickening crash
Mousies all over me!!! Shook my head till I got whiplash
The cat was now scratching me, I was screaming 'till my throat was sore,
This was a total nightmare, that snake was blocking that damn door!!
My eyes were like leaking faucets, I had thick tears, I didn't know?
When I wiped off my cheeks, I found out it was icky guano!!
Boohoo, sniffle, snuffle--am I never getting out of here?!?
Dang Chris says he'll be back in a week, will just drown myself in beer.
* paniki=bats
** for Sharon's Pet-sit Panics contest
I’m behind her eyes throughout the night,
I’m playing with her dream.
She doesn’t realise it’s me that knows,
Shadows aren’t as they seem.
I make her feel comfort, safe and secure,
As snug as a bug in a rug.
She doesn’t realise my smoke’s more than toxic,
A dreamy sort of drug.
With me in her mind she’s protected, guarded,
From everything that is real.
She thinks this is how sleep’s meant to be,
A sleepy slaughtered kind of surreal.
I’m the genuine authentic nightmare man,
Stealing dreams from every night.
I’m the guy that makes her sleep with nothing,
Harvesting her dreams by candlelight.
Two peas in a pod?
My April and me?
No, not at all,
I would not agree
She is all sunshine
laughter and light
I’m shrouded in darkness
too much like the night
She is artistic, outgoing
well read,
I’m the quiet, shy
redhead
But no matter what
my sister and me,
on one thing,
we’ll always agree
Our friendship is
tried and true
over the years
it grew and grew
deeply rooted as
Aspen trees
snug as a bug
a pod with two peas
Yes, I have to agree
though we are far apart
my April is closely
endeared in my heart.
Trudy Diane Rider
8-21-2009
For My sister April, I miss her.
For Nathan's contest