It seemed to happen in a flash.
Our movements were rash.
Behind the breakfast bar
With scraps of potato hash.
Our webbed little feet
Stuck in a muddy mash.
Scores of us slip-slapping up the alley
Unabashed, with feathers
Mucked and thrashed
Finally on the road and--boom! Crash!
Linda was blindsided,
Some trucker with a stash.
There were eight of us now
Headed for a small pond in Wabash.
Just 200 waddles in the razor tall leaves
That thrash and slash.
Finally the four of us left see
Beyond the man-sized vines
The immaculate vision of the chicken party.
The most bodacious aquatic bash:
The one they call "The Chicken Splash."
Categories:
man sized, animal,
Form: Rhyme
God's, Handiwork
By: Tom Wright
Feb. 10, 1998
Beyond my wood lot filled,
with snow so deep it chilled.
I watched young mink at play,
Paying me no heed this day.
Fulfilling their place in life,
oblivious of man made strife.
Their not mine I can plainly see,
But on loan from, God, to me.
With a man sized urge to gloat,
the sun glistening off their coat.
Saying, God, how can this be?
That You painted this scene for me.
Categories:
man sized, god, nature, snow, winter,
Form: Rhyme
IF YOU PULL A LONG FACE : Part XXII
IF you pull a long lonely face
Standing all alone near or on a busy airport flyway
Sans kith ni kin nor traffic police or friends en surplus
Hell you'll be mowed down by plane's landing gear out-lay
Now if you pull that lone long face
Since with none you can co-habit you say
Too true as that might be do as penance purchase
A man-sized mouse-trap stick neck in and pray
But if you pull long neck out to save long face
Don't blame me if by chance the spring gives way
Mouse-traps are made only for rats running in rat-race
If you want out post (on this site) your sworn statement apostasié
Yet if you pull your changed-mind long face
Take vows of celibacy eat nor enjoy flesh either way
Even as anthropophage Andromède chew on Ethiopian rock face
None'll make a shrine out of bones buried under compost pourrée
So if you must pull a lone long face
Seek not other lone long faces who pray and flay
Their backs and with cat-o'-nine-tails their face
Lacerate till Antonioni films Sophia L. with St. Francois d'Assis in Mandalay
© T. Wignesan - Paris, January 22, 2019
Categories:
man sized, friend, humor, loneliness, metaphor,
Form: Dramatic Monologue
Used like a man sized tissue
To soak up their emotions
And cast aside in the waste bin of their life
the destiny of man
when in the hands of heartless woman
useful when in need
but easily disposable
like a human carrier bag
for all your unwanted problems
but easily replaced
you care not the hurt you cause
the empty space you leave
feeling hurt
for you are that heartless woman
no man deserves to meet
Categories:
man sized, hurt,
Form: Free verse
My friends call me gay,
not ha ha funny
My enemies call me *****,
they say I dress
like an androdyous honey
My mama with tough love,
tells me:
I’m living a sinful lifestyle
My daddy growls and disavows:
says I’m his biological son,
but not his spiritual child
Nothing is ha ha funny
about this situation at all
Mixed emotions got me
on a Bunson burn
Beaker of roiling XY chromsomes
and testosterone hormones
Homosexual agony
is tormenting me
Desires I feel for another man;
attraction so strong, so womanly
God said those feelings ain’t natural,
and shouldn’t be inside of me tempting
Not one safe place to breathe
in this heterosexual society
I got man-sized hands
and a feminine weighted heart
But, do you wanna know
the real funny part
I’ll give you a good
Pagliacci laughing head start
My partner likes to dress up
as a man
Likes to wear custom fabric pants
Drapes himself in the dark cloak
of a masculine life
But says he can only be himself
when he’s around me,
and away from his wife
Ha ha ... funny story, don’t you think —
I think not!
Categories:
man sized, conflict, emotions, identity, prejudice,
Form: Dramatic Verse
On the Isle of Man adrift in a rugged sea
the Children of Pride fell with Lucifer, they say,
fallen angels all, called Fairy, or Adhene….
fair of form yet stark are these sorrowful beauties.
The man-sized Adhene rule the other fairy
and often times wee small sprites dance upon their hand.
Both flit upon wings in a purple mountain’s lea
while men hide from the malevolent of their clan.
There darker kin dwell down deep within the caverns
and cause much misery in the heaviest fog,
Yet most are beauties, benevolent and quite kind
never troubling travelers as coming along.
With translucent wings, flaxen hair, and deep dark eyes,
safe within the rush of waterfalls they may hide.
Some say you can hear them sing if you sit awhile
for until Judgment Day right here they must abide.
And don’t forget to pray, when you walk near the tide
God save me, save me do, from the Children of pride.
*Adhene/The Manx fairies were called Adhene
and known as Cloan ny moyrn, which means the Children of Pride/Ambition,
because they were regarded as having been fallen angels
cast from heaven but too good for hell.
Categories:
man sized, adventure, allegory, childhood, children,
Form: Rhyme
I guess he lost his way when
he left the beaten path,
I guess he was confused when
instinct and logic crashed.
I guess he killed his brain cells
with alcohol and hash,
I guess that his insanity
held him firmly in its grasp.
Asleep, I guess his paranoia
seemed to grow and bloom,
I guess he sensed something
paranormal in the room.
I guess his blackened pupils
must have scanned and searched the gloom,
I guess he thought he heard the
icy rattle of the tomb.
He pretended to have a job, I'm told,
and daily left the house,
then sat all day in the cellar,
I'm told, as quiet as a mouse.
I heard that when she wasn't there,
he sometimes wore her clothes,
I imagine him sashaying
on his man-sized tippy-toes.
His insanity made him mad, i guess,
if that makes any sense,
I know his thoughts were warped though,
by no coincidence.
I see him in a fetal posture,
vulnerably curled.
I see him having lost all hope
and contact with the world.
I see him sitting all alone,
re-reading what he wrote,
a madman's twelve page ranting
in his sad and final note.
©Danielle White
Categories:
man sized, anniversary, brother, deathlost, lost,
Form: Elegy
I am a woman
with a pen
Sounds lame
but listen again.
I am a woman
with a pen.
Stories and schemes
Weaver of fairy tales
or broken dreams.
Little girls at wishing wells
pretty pink dresses with piggy tales.
Adventure to sew.
Hearts to win.
I am a woman
with a pen.
Strong boys, stiff upper lips
muddy shoes, frogs clutched in fists.
Fishing poles or computer screens
little boys with man sized dreams.
Dragons to slay
Hearts to win
I am a woman
With a pen
It’s deceptive
this power I claim.
Makes me believe
I can do anything.
Categories:
man sized, hope, imagination, introspection, on
Form: Free verse