Long Songy Poems

Twelve days of sleep deprivation has thrown
Aunt Zee into full blown manic.
And it did not help that a young
cute female doctor who was trying
to please, wanted her to get to
drive to Omaha for Easter, so
she...

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* Content Warning: this poem touches on physical/emotional abuse*

        ~

        “dabble, dabble
         roiling...

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‘tap, tap, tap’

your petite knuckles
gently attacking my door -
I envision their French-painted nails
dancing in the shine of
the hallway light
like a row of bishops bowing to the Pope
(your sensual sacrilege)
I don’t make a sound
though my eye...

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Every morning at a quarter to six, I can hear my he him trotting down the hallway to the bed where I lay, shriveled up under my weighted blanket, so fat and un-tall.
There’s a part...

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Walked a wooded trail, suddenly unsure of my surroundings,
wondered had I'd become lost..
only a moment disconcerted, as dusk grew nearer. 

I went over an old river crossed by an even older bridge, 
there not seen...

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I walked into my school at noon one day, straight from a bland boring counseling meeting and no one was there.
No receptionist, no secretary, no nurse, no vice principal, no custodian, oh, where were they,...

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Foreword... 
Of two commonly used pronunciations, this poem uses Dippla-doe-cous.
Originally written as a singy songy thingy to the tune of Supercalifragilistcexpealidocious.


Jurassic Lark.


An optical illusion or a little hocus pocus
I swear I saw a dinosaur, a...

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I’ve been remembering dreams lately. I don’t know why.
I dreamed I had a conversation with God last night.

We’d finished moving into the university residential dorm - this dream was ripped, directly, from reality.

We (God and...

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I unconditionally love the eutony heard by
my soul when I hear certain words.
zing, zip, zeal, zest, zealot, zipper, and z,
are particular favorites, for several sing-songy reasons,
slithering into my dendrites in a pleasing way.

South reminds me...

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Oh, you did not know Mrs. Klondike said.
Haughty, uppity, not nice in the least.
The festival has been moved and renamed.
The Aprillstica has been re-named?

No way!
I was horrified, shocked.
As my Aunt Bee was one of the...

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She’s coming! Mom said this in a sing-songy way.  
She knew that my twin and I were fascinated with Florence, 
she was like our new toy.  We had been afraid of her for...

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The depths of my soul are too shallow.
The fruits of my labor grew fallow.
A sing songy rhyme in three quarter time.
Is all that this poem has to show.

But what can a free thinking fellow. 
Do...

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