As a child I loved to have mother gently rub my hair,
and head;
eyes closed I would allow her soft hands
to carry me away into an’ other mothers’ arms.
That never happened.
I mean the mother thing, and that other mother
turned out to be mainly just a lipstick smeared cloud.
Now I am bald,
and that other mother, whom I never met,
she who gave hand jobs to the marines;
I might have liked her,
in a weird Oedipus Rex sort of way.
I bet her hands were professionally skillful.
The mother who had no motherly impulse
to rub my head, is also bald and dead.
Sometimes I imagine rubbing her skull, until it sings
like a Tibetan singing bowl.
It sings to me now
of faraway mothers and their loving hands;
hands that like magicians’ doves
brush my invisible hair
somewhere in the never-never.
Categories:
oedipus rex, poetry,
Form: Blank verse
Body is walking, soul is gone.
You can touch and kiss
But surely something you will miss
Body is walking, soul is gone.
Soul is gone, lips are talking.
You can come and hear
But surely you will miss something near
Soul is gone, lips are talking.
Like Jocasta and Oedipus Rex
You may have wild love and sex
But surely you will miss something dear.
Body is walking, soul is gone.
Categories:
oedipus rex, conflict,
Form: Free verse
Curiosity sat next to the dead cat
While the horse wouldn’t be lead to water
A camel did cry looking through the needle eye
Henry the VIII had another daughter
A moss-less stone at a glass house was thrown
And the King thought he looked so cute
Then a little boy who was rude told him he stood nude
Dressed in Lady Godiva’s old riding suit
One good turn came back in return
Because they deserved one another
Oedipus Rex lived a life so complex
Having married his very own mother
The moral of the story for every girl and every boy
Often gets lost in the shuffle
But there once was a tale I don’t remember so well
About it having to be dark to grow a good truffle
Categories:
oedipus rex, introspection, , cute,
Form: Rhyme