There is a reason rooserpecked is not a word
And henpecked is not thought to be absurd.
A woodpecker pecked on our siding
And likely, won’t listen to chiding.
He left a few holes
Beyond our controls
In a place where we’re partly residing.
An expert came by for assessing
The damage where Woody’d been messing.
He spritzed with a spray
But could not really say
Why he’d pecked there, without simply guessing.
Our house by huge trees is surrounded,
So I am completely confounded
As to why all that wood
Wouldn’t seem just as good
As the siding on which he had pounded.
peck, peck, pecka peck
no one is spared Death’s sickle
silence rules the roost
09.21.2021
Feathered in fire,
a blood heat of
red stolen coals
under your wing;
soles calloused by
the mountain road
long as loneliness;
step after hot step
chicken-foot lurch
home - what home?
frigid nest of stones.
Come chill moon-fall
you will be pecked
half-way to a death
by the beak of love,
feathered in a grin.
"The Hen-pecked Husband"
By M. Taha Effendi
(Light Poetry)
The door bell rang yet again,
and yonder heard the distinct voice,
of my dear old wife, full of pain,
drowned all my dreams of rejoice.
then came the thundering slap,
that landed on my cheek now red,
and as I panicked out of my nap,
I realized I had wet my bed.