.
mine
warm lips
he
thank you
kiss
.
front ourn
Father
God
Yahweh
He
pleadz for
mine
Quote: She was from the French side of town a red jolie
He was from Italian blood, all fingers & thumbs, oh boy !
Mitten: I don't understand why you had to separate the fingers
Glove: Because if I don't, they will start to (litigare)... fight,
Mitten: but you know fingers are stronger when together (non?)
Glove: not in my part of the world, every fork has its drawer
Mitten: (sigh) they need to learn to get along Gianglovetti
Glove: Cara, if you let them dance together, they will wrestle
soon a snowball hit the center of Mitten and she yelled heh !
another hit Gianglo he caught then pitched, "return to sender"
as the snowball fight ended the fingers cold and blue asked
should we mitt it or glove it, well its really up to you,
some do choose to gather, pool together and stay warm
others choose the soldier stance, just in case the storm ?
January 6, 2023
Minutes in, days out, I would succumb
To an electric wave of heat: this once
Tidy dress lined in cotton and quilt now appears
Scratched like a hand-me-down cloth;
My upper ribs tossed into a furnace
While the sizzling smoke chokes this neck…
Yet, Milady is not done with her slew of cuisine.
She tightens my back amiably in fetal position
Carrying jars, kettles, and pans ... with me
As her absorber from the burn of summer;
Her food tester masking like an undercover aide.
Yes, we are both overworked. I observe her
Lounging on a pantry chair inclined to cleanse
My body reeking of oil, grease, and pepper.
O Milady is genteelness, that skin so milky white,
Her fingers patting my dry cheeks before night breaks
While she glides out the door in lilting hums…
And only then can I lie on the sill to rest quietly
Under the glittering weave of tender moonlight.
--
Potholder Contest of Craig Cornish
5/15/2020
sliding my
hand down
and under
my loose
belt i felt
OWWWW
instead of
OHHHHH
cold hands
don't make
for a good
lover
His dad gave him a baseball mitt
Brand-new, a 'Rawlings,' a perfect fit
The boy's face glowed with happiness and pride
He hugged his dad tight, then went outside
To play catch with his best friend
He had to break that mitt in
Make it softer, flexible and pliable
He'd catch every ball, be 'Mr. Reliable'
The boy played 'till it was too dark to see
Then raced back home, bursting with glee
Tucked the ball into the pocket of his glove
He'd sleep on it that night, his pillow above
So the mitt's pocket would be perfectly formed
To the shape of the ball it would precisely conform --
Proclaiming, "Dad, you're the best dad there ever could be!"
Love coming straight from his heart ~ Wouldn't you agree?
Who knew that our friendship would bloom
Big enough to fill up a room
When I close my eyes I see you standing
In the most beautiful sunrise
I don't feel like we hardly have to try
Things with us just seem to fly
I don't have to ask myself why
I know together we will be able
To laugh and cry
I know our love will grow
Higher than the sky
Stronger than the sea
Sweeter than honey from a bee
When things fit like a good mitt
Then we must commit ourselves all the way
As we learn to get along side by side and at play
Each and every day
I pray the good Lord stays close
So that we might make the most
With God as our host
We can agree that this is what
Has come to be
For our hearts to be set free
To be all things that are you and me
I knew the moment you responding
Our worlds were going to be bonding
As our love starts to grow
May we come to know the love
That God has bestowed
I like that you want to move slow
But we could easily just go with the flow
Because our love will grow
Higher then the sky
Stronger than the sea
Sweeter than honey from a bee
I voted for Barack Obama four years ago.
If you're wondering if I'm going to vote for him again, the answer is no.
Two weeks from now I'm going to vote for Mitt Romney.
After watching the debates, he's the candidate for me.
If Romney wins, he'll be a far better Republican than George Bush was.
I hope that Romney wins two weeks from now, I'll be happy if he does.
I believe that he can balance the budget of the great USA.
I'll be tickled pink if he wins in two weeks on Election Day.
My father's Roger Maris mitt
Was kept in perfect health.
It showed no wrinkles no blemishes
Nor flakes of skin.
Its limber fingers were sheathed in leather,
Its pocket was well stretched
As it yawned with each breath.
Bathed in linseed oil,
It was a dark jersey cow
As it slept like an oyster
With a pearl cradled in its palm.
My father's attention was precious as gold;
His time was well spent with little to spare.
He was my coach, he was my father
Playing catch on our field of honor.
Years passed by with a blink of an eye;
His fraying attention became unraveled
By his job, by money, his family's health
And his aging body.
His golden mitt seldom saw light;
Snaring a baseball was wishing
Upon a starless night.
With patience and compassion
My father guided my life,
By catching a baseball my self-confidence grew.
But, his life was snatched by death
His game forever ended.
He was part of my foundation
Which will never fade from sight
As long as I remember, a baseball
Caught on an autumn night.
Standing in my backyard, I see my father's mitt
Cradling me;
Like a baseball I recline
In his loving arms forever.
When I first began I was quite a young man
with hair as black as coal.
No one could see direction but me
For President I shall be.
Today is the day I went Iowa's way
They stand and cheer so proud
I now have a chance to Political dance
And wave to those in the crowd!
I'm so handsome and rich
Holding tight to my niche!
A "shoo-in" I am "at last"
"Jest won mo" hurdle to pass!
Steadfast I am like a rock
Perhaps now I can beat Barack?
If a body catch a body
coming through the rye
Prevent it falling off a cliff
Or it will surely die
If a body lose a body
It could not deny
If it knew it was not a body
It would never cry
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