When I wed sweet Raylene, her hair was pure gold,
And she was the prettiest thirteen-year-old.
But now she's a plump as a pickerel frog,
'Cos she's had more babies than BillyBob's hog.
Chorus
Oh, Raylene's a mommy agin,
Yeah, Raylene's a mommy agin,
Now what in tarnation
Goes down on vacation?
'Cos Raylene's a mommy agin.
When August comes callin', it's pack up and head
To a shack on Blue Bayou, where the catfish are red.
November, and she's in the family way,
And regler as clockwork, it pops out in May.
Chorus
Our trailer is bustin' apart at the seams.
We've got enough kids for four volleyball teams.
We cain't have no more. You can bet your last dime,
I'm taking Raylene on vacation next time.
Chorus
Categories:
pickerel, song,
Form: Lyric
“Look deep into nature and you’ll understand everything better.”
Albert Einstein
I stood on the sloped path near the waterfall.
Mesmerised by the sound of falling water.
All around grew green-leafed ferns,
While tall poplars and redwoods provided
Ample shade that covered the running stream.
Tall purple pickerel plants, scarlet cardinal plants,
Everything contributed to a sublime, picturesque sight.
A symphony of sounds emanated completely around.
Frogs croaked in great abundance, jumping in and out,
Of the clear stream where fish swam toward the sea.
And all around, busy bees fluttered over exotic flowers,
Where nectar provided them with such sweet nourishment.
Placed 1
Categories:
pickerel, beauty, imagery, nature,
Form: Imagism
the swans hiss
parental obligation
…warn the intruder
sunning turtles roll
drunks falling off of bar stools
…curse the kayaker
water lilies
mimicking ice cream cones
…licked by the bees
floating overhead
an Osprey admires himself
…a silent river
a pickerel darts
a frog croaks
…not just wordplay
the Geese look surprised
a cool riffling of feathers
…instinctual need
John G. Lawless
©7/29/2022
Categories:
pickerel, humor, nature, river,
Form: Senryu
I imagine
The fish wonder.
“will that guy be back?”
A gnarled old pickerel
Comments: “yeah,
he’ll probably get me
on the same stupid mousey thing.”
“I know it’s comin’ but
I just can’t resist it.”
An old frog chimes in:
“Yeah, he got me with that once.”
“chewy, with a hint of garlic.”
A mud crusted Muskrat laughed.
“Man, I love it when he gets snagged
in the trees. Boy does he know
some very spicy words and phrases.”
“First time I ever saw a Beaver blush”
added an Egret.
They know I’m coming!!!
And I know they can’t resist
My “Mouse - E- Tongue” lure.
Let the games begin.
John G. Lawless
©4/2/2022
Categories:
pickerel, fish, fishing, humor, spring,
Form: Free verse
Patience with a Purpose
swans stood motionless
imitating spray painted flamingos
geese in the distance
mimicked a talk show panel
turtles sunbathed “sans sun block”
carp slithered in shallow mud
pickerel, unable to hide their toothy grins,
slyly awaited passersby
old bull frogs “harrumphed”
exchanging their glory days
a stick figure Heron posed
patience… with a purpose
...……..a kayak respectfully floating past
John G. Lawless
©6/4/2021
Categories:
pickerel, nature, solitude,
Form: Free verse
It's mother nature's dance
spring growth dubiously enhanced
resting beneath the summer sun
bees, birds and butterflies on the run;
hurried in and out the garden gate
nestling in the flower blossoms safe
a melodic hum drum
to the beauty of the season come.
It makes me smile, causes me to see
the simplicity of life in every bumblebee
to feel the flutter of butterfly wings
listening to every bird that sings;
a warble, tweet and trill
holds my heart with every thrill
some garbled fish swim splash
escaping the heron's gnash.
The waterfall dance
stretched along the stones tranced
with each reflections of some petal fall
mixed colors from palette painted scrawls;
a dragonfly zipping along the pickerel
beauty quite visceral
the grandeur elaborate and intense
this year's rainbow along the fence.
Welcome one, welcome all
to the wonder and beauty of the garden's call.
Categories:
pickerel, appreciation, beauty, garden,
Form: Burlesque
Grass growth in the cove
where Larry's boat sat
years after Larry’s ash
whirled with rocks in space
daunts the pickerel:
silently galloping glut
challenges the channel.
Someday soon there may be
no seeing through it
to the bottom of things.
This soft encroachment,
a green disease born
of fertilized lawns
and hangers on
from other lakes brought
here by alien crafts
may arrest fluidity
with an embodiment
as solid as a moral
but as dead as Monday’s church.
Will we hear the hard lake
crack or will that be
Larry’s heart? Fossils
Gouged from cliff sides
and PA road cuts
taught the geologist
that all things will pass.
But the lover of Maine
rain-gauged statistics
to say, “Not so fast!
“Slow down! Not so fast.”
Take heart Larry, and I
will strive to join you:
your great-grandson
Parker loves the land
you left for all of us.
He is diving into things
and spying out hydrilla
with a water glass.
Categories:
pickerel, environment, water,
Form: Lyric