Mousy Poems

The Brain

Brain's agile cranium was a difficulty of quixotic immensity,
in a state of malaise, in the labyrinth of dead-end opportunity.
Never unnerved at his mousy stature, he rendered colossal dreams,
for global hegemony was the main subject of his lunatic schemes.

A Scintillating Sunrise- POTD

Brandishing the lightning lance, the sun arrives,
The mighty, majestic monarch of the day.
Kissing the mouldy mountain rows, he comes
Banishing mist and frost from night’s blotched brow.

In what rich ruby ring of radiance, he appears 
Smearing and splotching liquid gold, he gracefully moves
With sparkling splashes, the world becomes bright
The prompt and punctual rooster raises his raucous revelry. 

Birds and beasts wake up from their slumberous sleep.
The feathered folks tweet and twitter in harmonious notes.
The verdant vales below send up a welcoming sign.
The leaves stay bright tipped with dainty droplets of dew.

Morn, the bashful, mousy maiden with modest grace,
Peeps and peeks through half drawn curtains in the East.
Removing all trace of a tarnished yesterday,
The day arrives making me smile in burgeoning bliss.

Mister Cat Must Pay

Mister Cat adjusted his spectacles,
Upon his nasal receptacle,
As he spoke to his kittens three.
Why must you climb the one tree
In Widow Calico's prim front yard?
You know there are trees out back
Without fear of a sneak thwap attack 
From Widow Calico's trusty broom.
Now you must play in your room,
While I placate the old shrew
With a fresh pot of mousy stew!

Clare And Bartholomew

Gather round all you little kiddies
Got a story I'd like to share
Bout a tiny mouse named Bartholomew
And a dirty big bear called Clare!

Now Clare wasn't the least bit happy
His name sounded a wee bit girly
Had a wee mousey friend Bartholomew
Who's name sounded strong and burly!

So hulking big Clare the unhappy bear
Asked his mousy friend Bartholomew
If he'd be so kind and wouldn't mind
Switching names, that'd be so cool!

Bartholomew said he wanted some time
To check with dear Cynthia his friend
About this idea of switching names
On her opinion he would depend!

Cynthia said, “If you want my opinion
Your name doesn't sound like a bear
But if Clare wants the name Bartholomew
We're still friends but now you'll be Clare!”

A name doesn't change the person you are
You'll be the same friend in the end
So forever after Mr. Bartholomew Bear
And wee mousey Clare stayed friends!

A moral?

O Hedgehog!

Hedgehog, O hedgehog
dear spiny, meek and mousy poppet.
In England
where the tickly grass grows
greener
we galumph in our rubber boots
up to your little
Hobbit nests
beneath the thorny bushes
were you rests.

We the ever scampy
nippers
fill tin cups with wriggly worms
leave then there
by your dinky
mossy dells.

All the pricky hogs
come from near and nearer,
to snuff and gobble
by the brittle briery
and eat their wormy mush.

Our mucky paws clap
in gay and giggly glee
to see that munchy feast,
their piddly
licky
muzzles
chomping -
quite charming.

Adults say, 'we will catch a flea'
from their pin pointy pelts.
yet we shrug
our never minds, and
our don't cares,

even bring
one tiddly tyke home,
smuggling it up the stairs
to coddle
while we playtime
with some jolly good
fun....

Odd Friendships

 

one day Kitty came inside from the porch 
with a mouse in her mouth and I said- oh no
but she gently put it down and it did not run
but followed Kitty to her basket and got in
together they cuddled and kissed all day
I was in shock thinking does this happen
anyways, I named the mouse- Mousy
and read up on what to feed our new friend

I made him a home in an old garden pot
and put it in a secluded spot on the porch
but most of the time Kitty and Mousy played
and slept-  and ate together side by side
sometimes, Mousy took a ride on Kitty's back
and sometimes, she slept upon Kitty's head
it was an amazing and wonderful thing
a funny thing and a divine thing blessed by God

Boy and Barn

Bitty birds scuffle and flounce
under the roofed-in.
Barn dusted, rafters crust and whiffle.
Snuffle go the whiskered,
the mousy muzzle's
all along the bent beam wood.
A pepper powdering
in the chink-lit sunbeams.
In this his tumbled castle-keep
youth sky-larked a being
a ghostling ally sight unseen
there in the day-baked barn.
Long days he communed and lazed
in dim swaddled and idle ease
stretched-out and dream-basked,
seeped in the tar caulked wood
steeped in a gown-shadowed glow
with the evening-come nightly
jackdaw and crow.

Seasonal Dance

The summer has thickened,
it has turned the hare into a dervish,
the raccoon to a pantomime villain,
made mice sing in the beaks of owls.

The woods are bare now
trees rattle, grackles cackle,
blue Ice chimes in the deep freeze.

Witches flirt and flit
They have skeleton corsets,
they ride upon racks of lamb.
Their mousy, grey moon petticoats
are tattered by thorns.

By December the land crunches
under tread, the snow creaks
like a an unearthed catacomb.
Reckless children are lost
In the rumors of dark folktales.

The year turns, tinder burns,
lovers remember an inner climate
where limbs blush
when kissed by a kindness
as soft as sunlit rain.

Now and then, and yet again,
clouds circle a bright fanlight
of sky.
Seasons return only to sail
on by.

Bartholomew and Clare

Gather round all you little kiddies
Got a story I'd like to share
Bout a tiny mouse named Bartholomew
And a dirty big bear called Clare!

Now Clare wasn't the least bit happy
His name sounded a wee bit girly
Had a wee mousey friend Bartholomew
Who's name sounded strong and burly!

So hulking big Clare the unhappy bear
Asked his mousy friend Bartholomew
If he'd be so kind and wouldn't mind
Switching names, that'd be so cool!

Bartholomew said he wanted some time
To check with dear Cynthia his friend
About this idea of switching names
On her opinion he would depend!

Cynthia said, “If you want my opinion
Your name doesn't sound like a bear
But if Clare wants the name Bartholomew
We're still friends but now you'll be Clare!”

A name doesn't change the person you are
You'll be the same friend in the end
So forever after Mr. Bartholomew Bear
And wee mousey Clare stayed friends!

A moral?

Kitchen Frights

An uncertain time,
light switch in the dark
whirr of wings,
unlocated -
swift hither, swifter thither
soft mousy leather.
Fledermaus,
Bat!

On the ceiling,
fridge top,
skitter of featherless wings
in the air a timid fear,
clinging now to a hook.

Throw open the screen door,
Circle back, head ducked,
flap towel
shout something, anything but yes.
Blurred flight zooms past left ear.

Put heartbeats
back into their drum,
make coffee.

What I Have Observed

It is crazy
To be lazy
And lousy
To be mousy:
Of one naughty
Who chose to be haughty
And Snobbish
Who often mouths rubbish. 

You can’t be chatty
And not hearty
Nor Natty
When you’re the fatty:
From almost every nit
Not a word of wit,
Everything mirroring a haze
For his longest gaze…

All these: What live observed
And should n’t  want them reserved.

Kintsugi

Searches for perfection abound -
creams for flawless complexion,
toothpaste for perfect white teeth, 
diets to give one an ideal figure,
salves, make-up, lotions, hairspray,  
an endless desire not to show flaws.

Why do we all aspire to be copies 
of Venus or Adonis or a movie star?
Show me see the slightly crooked tooth
In a wide smile that lights a room,
A child with poor eyesight 
Who wears green cat’s-eye glasses,

Show me a woman whose walker or
cane is trimmed with spring flowers,
a girl whose mousy hair sports
purple streaks or a heavy woman
who wears a red silk dress and heels. 
Show me people who understand  
That accenting their flaws can create
That special beauty called character.

The Break

Ironic that the break
Begat her break
Mousy brown
In the chorus line
Third row from the back 
Throwing envious glances
At the leading lady
All glory and accolades
Pirouettes and solos
Applause unbounded
Why not me?
That fateful night
A careless stumble 
Unsafe props
An unfortunate angle
Forcing a fracture
And exit stage left
An empty spotlight
Top billing wanting
The opportunity to step up
To transform and sparkle
And take centre stage
Though under the greasepaint
Her guilt barely disguised
Not pat superstition 
But sincerely said
The meteoric rise triggered
By her prophetic wish
To break a leg

Rain Holes

aftersomanyyears of listening to rainclouds
you forget towonder
what you were crying for

mouseholes long patched over
are revisited by that catlover
who became a two-handed umbrella man

they are empty – the holes
alwayswere
the mice long moved to Florida
lived elsewhere not evenclose
so you write a little mousy poem
– smile

    take awalk
around the sun

Garage Enigma

It’s impossible to stay
any length of time in the garage
without feeling lonely – which I am not,
only crowds bring me loneliness.

At one time, I had planned to drink a bottle of bourbon,
and smoke an expensive cigar in that garage,
then blow my brains out.
That was when the cancer diagnosis 
dropped into my lap like a dead bird.
I wallowed in a hissy-pool of self-pity
until I sensed that even the lonely garage 
begged me to shut the hell up.

We have mice, and sparrows,
the mice live quietly raising mousy pipsqueaks
that pip and squeak behind deeply piled boxes.
The sparrows are peripatetic,
coming and going at will,
don’t ask how, it’s a mystery.

The garage has this one mood 
that does not change with the seasons.
It makes space for me despite the lack of room.
It sighs when I sigh,
It casts a mirroring shadow,
makes that shadow whisper into my ears.
Waits patiently 
for me to say something out loud
then it gets quiet,
a sense of being found, but still lost 
steals over me.

It’s then, at those times, I still wish
for a good smoke and a bottle
of Kentucky moonshine.

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• Long Mousy Poems
• Mousy Quotes