Replication, O photon.
Atmosphere. Molecules.
Phase, like seasons. Here, then gone.
Tools, tremors, toadstools.
Occipital ridge, troll, bridge.
Billy goat, thy horn.
Pestilence, thy name is midge.
Freighter, fain, forlorn.
Lightning bolt, fruit of the gods.
Eat one and become.
Mycelial, goldenrod?
Mushroom, just stay mum.
Sign of salvation, sea-bass?
Shark, set eyes on same.
Liquid legend, O my lass?
Sure. I'm glad you came.
Tympani, crush. Firefly, flee.
Knock thrice, then flit, thrush.
O behemoth, swim thy sea?
Death, you've had a brush.
Enormous or gigantic?
Titan, which to choose?
Oil on surface, stiff or slick?
Flickering fate, fast fuse.
Race, a trace of turkey wild.
In the corn, my child.
Charnel house floor, stains a-tiled?
Ululate, red riled.
Racket, informed packet?
Data, grow in trees.
Weather, wail. Jail, jacket.
Pain, poisonous to please.
we were crossing the bridge with no worries that day
When I heard a thunderous voice say “Stop there! HEY!”
A two-headed monster gave both of us the eye.
Pay us twenty-two cents, one said, or you will die.
I can pay you fifty cents, I told them, but I don’t have twenty-two.
He and his other head conversed and decided that would have to do.
We always bring money now when we want to cross that bridge.
And we have made friend with the monster, we call him Midge.
It’s not that I didn’t want
to be a wild thing,
It’s not that I didn’t want
to make his heart sing,
but I was just too young
in 1966,
still playing Barbie dolls
who were homeless
and lived with trolls,
and Midge One-Of-Two
transitioned into Ken
because Barbie needed him
to make everything groovy~
like flower power,
bell-bottom jeans
and my first transistor radio.
Inspired by “Wild Thing” as sung by The Troggs
Midge Sue could never please her mother
She was an outcast, not her brother
If she folded clothes, her mother would refold them
Laundry was never expected of brother, Jim
If Midge Sue cleaned the kitchen, it was not good enough
You are a female, her mother said, you need to get tough
No one was tougher than her mother
Who also favored Midge’s little stepbrother.
If Midge Sue prepared a meal, it was deemed “bad”.
Her mother’s negative opinions made her sad.
When she was eighteen, Midge Sue left home for good.
Found her tribe, who built her up, said that she could.
No one put her down, they built her up and loved her too.
She never returned home, our wise woman, Midge Sue.
When did your heart and soul soar,
And bring you happiness galore,
When did you see your way ahead clear,
Was it amazing and awesome,
So encompassing and wholesome,
What delighted you most,
Was it your help at the charity store,
Which satisfied you to your core,
Or was it that old man
You helped cross the road,
Or the little boy you helped
Find and catch his big toad,
Or maybe it was that freezing night,
That you brought warmth and light,
To the poor under the bridge,
When you got a mighty hug from Midge.
Or perhaps it was that
Heartwarming day,
On the 1st May,
When you gave chocolate eggs,
To all the children in need,
Wearing rags,
With no shoes on their feet.
Do you remember that multiple accident,
On the highway,
Where a number of people did pay,
With their life,
There was many a child,
Some a husband, others a wife,
Died at this horrific scene,
And you wept, for what you could not do.
All were good folk, and came to me.
This, I want you to know,
That from today,
I have saved you
A place dear Anne,
For I am a big fan,
Of people like you,
Of which sadly exist, so few,
For you will help everyone,
And risk your all for anyone.
Florid banshees recoiled, neck and hankering sneer.
A succinctly exuberant suggestion when selective.
Came on, fell flat with laconic ornamentation.
A miniature jaunt, interment; glove comparted.
Pin-striped foxtails attuned tune maddening clairvoyants.
Precisely predisposed, wine-flavored latten tobaccos.
A wooden-tipped juxtaposition, stilling waisted.
Bygone midge nonguarded, slunk olive drabbing on bayou.
Thicken handkerchief lightly dabbing brow.
Darkness entrapment, fiat practice gymnastics.
Money management, coinage magnet, honored in mathematics.
Backflipping,
Backtracking,
Backpacking.
Super-Soaker moisture, quickie; quickly, socks on prickly.
Sloped incline, inside Mount Saint Helens' Slip 'n Slide.
The sudden eighties music craze
had gone beyond the norm
the local supermarket
was swept along by the storm
as more and more of the shoppers
joined in with the revival
filling up on nostalgia
from t-shirts to CDs and vinyl
Reaping the customer whirlwind
for Boy George and Eurythmics tracks
some smart Alec from head office
said “This is no time to Relax!”
the mullet headed store manager
he looked a manic Midge Ure
a sarcastic lad on the tannoy
said “Sorry, but we’ve got no Cure”
Over at customer services
I said a mistake’s being made
“The seventies had John Lennon
Bob Marley, T. Rex, Slade!”
the guy claimed to be sympathetic
towards my point of view
then asked me to go on a website
and give him a Five Star review
A wise woman sat at the checkout
smiled to me as she said
“When this fad blows over
they’ll still want milk and bread”
so the moral to this story
is one of wisdom not sadness
that everyone’s entitled to
their little bit of Madness.
Sunny the goblin
Was a very joyful troll
With a blue surfboard and a stately pose
Down the beach he would stroll
Sunny the goblin
Is a happy bloke they say
He surfs well you know
Loves the seaside so
He will live here one day
He built a shack right on the beach
He built it on sturdy ground
No dinner he had a *paddle pop instead
And began to dance around.
Oh Sunny the Goblin
Was sun tanned as could be
And the people say
He could surf all day
Just the same as *Midge Farrelly
Oh Sunny the goblin
Knew the surf was up that day
So he said lets do some surfing in the sun
So they surfed all the day
Down to the surf shop
With a surfboard in his hand
Buying gear to wear
New T-shirts everywhere
This place was surf gear land
He bought new board shorts for a pound
And a new summer top
He could have bought lots more
But they were closing the shop
Hmm Sunny the Goblin
Had to hurry on his way
With a little sigh he waved goodbye
Great shopping here today
Thumpety, thump thump, thumpety, thump thump
The sand's so hot it glows!
Thumpety, thump thump, thumpety, thump thump
Sunny carries his board running on his toes.!
I know it is tradition
But this year I have chosen a theme for Thanksgiving
We will not include turkey, ham, or beef of any kind
The theme is vibrant veggie
These instructions were given to my cousin Sue
From her brand-spanking-new-daughter-in-law Midge
So, you will be hosting? Deciphered Sue.
No, Midge told her. You may clean.
But I will be bringing the decorations.
We do not want Pilgrims or Indians or any of that rot.
Sue asked, “Can I still bake the traditional cinnamon cake?”
“Sorry,” Midge said. “Too much sugar.”
I am listening to my cousin and I have no comment.
She only has one grandchild.
All of her eggs in one basket.
She does not want to alienate that egg's mother.
“So, she is letting you clean!” I say cheerfully.
“If I do it right,” Sue says.
I have no other words.
"For those who love with heart and soul, there is no such thing as separation"
~By Rumi
Decked in floral wreaths and crown
as I lay in state among family and friends
with my spirit wading through strands forlorn
where lamps shone bright in celestial gleam
bordering a land of bliss out of mortal reach
where neither canker blights, nor flowers wilt
where sorrow never enters and all shall be blest
where each head like the sun aureoled
where God in all His glory doth reign
I saw through my slumber deep, as through a veil
my loved ones grieving great, my journey
unreturned to an untravelled land.
There was crying and whining, sighing and sobbing
in stirring memory of days in all goodness spent
and of bonds stretching beyond life's rim
which set me feel sick of where I was and where I wasn't
so fain to go, so fain to stay,
like a spinning midge,
my spirit veered high and low
between Heaven and Earth
between Mortality and Immortality.
a helium balloon buoyant in the air.
I cannot use my kitchen, I have too much fear.
What is going on? I asked my auntie dear.
There is a tiny pineapple monster in there under the frig.
She is nutty again, said my other auntie named Midge.
Let’s go in there together, I suggested. It will be okay.
I began to trot and she yelled out “No WAY!”
Midge rolled her eyes and her finger around her ear.
She is crazy she mouthed; I saw it from here.
I went in without her and got chased right back out.
By a tiny sword-carrying pineapple monster an ugly lout.
Come back if you want a stab in each eye! He said.
Embarrassed now, my doubting face was red.
Midge the Mouse could tell that her date was not into her
He was busy slurping down all the butter off their popcorn
She wondered why did he invite me, the sneaky little cur.
Because my Uncle Zeke is the owner of Movie Galaxy in Big Horn?
They got a discount on the popcorn, he only had to pay half.
Then he decided to go Dutch, which to Midge was a big surprise.
He stopped to get a famous movie mouse’s autograph.
Then asked for her phone number in front of Midge’s eyes.
Our Family
by Robert J (Bob) Moore ©2021
Our Christine was the youngest,
of our brood of four
and that’s when mam and dad said,
“don’t think we’ll have any more”
Three girls, and only one boy
and this last one squeals a lot
just wait until she grows up
think we’ll quit with what we’ve got
Midge is what I called her,
‘cause she was pretty small
Elaine I always called her bones
skinny, not very tall
The oldest girl was Marion
named after our mother
guess that I just called her Mal
and wished I had a brother
It never really mattered
our family was complete
we did the things a family does
and the living was pretty sweet
Then we came to Australia
and when I was 22
I finally had a brother
Bill joined our motley crew
Now times gone past so quickly
you wonder where years have gone
those of us left, live our life
and remember them, every one.
That shelter-less man under the bridge'
Irritates that lady who swears at him;
They together beg their anger abridge,
They come back; again sing the same love hymn,
Whose husband was he? Whose wife she, a midge?
Both have many issues all go well trim.
15 June 2021
Bite Size Poem no7 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
Play hearts?
No smarts
Blackjack?
Lack knack
Go fish?
You wish
Try bridge?
Ask Midge
Old Maid?
Afraid
Cribbage?
Priv'lege
Euchre?
Nuke her
Hold 'em?
Fold 'em
Psst:
Poker?
Mediocre
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