I’ve sold winter coldness to those who’re huge in their chests oncorners of these abandoned streets, where bars aren’t happy with myfootprints in front of every door. Where I hit myself at close range. Where I pay a price to win no game. However, she’s worked all her lifeto bring up all her children within this magical world of theatre & music.She’s convinced that these children won’t fail to understand & accept opera& early rehearsals. I'm bedridden waiting. Welcome to a pigheaded house. Welcometo your fate that befalls many emigrants you plant like beets beside the beetleto see new growth. Welcome to where you don’t fancy a beer before bier afterthe funeral. Something is bedraggled from the hedgerow & that’s your ex’sspecial brand. However, the twigs are dry & brittle, & cracked beneaththeir feet from the beginning. Her children are looking for more spaciouspremises after that premeditated murder in a blighted area where I prescribe hera daily diet chart.
There was a gentle tiger named Dreaded
He met a donkey who was hardheaded
That donkey just wasn’t afraid
Refusing to run, he stayed
Dreaded roared loud, “you’re just too pigheaded”!
Why is it the intransigent
find the intransigent
to be pigheaded, willful,
inflexible and pertinacious?
Engaging, as it were,
in an endless “tug-o-war”
neither side allowing
for consideration of
the fallibility of the inflexibility
of calcified recalcitrance.
Stags, horns locked,
dying on an empty stage
bleach-white bones
rattling in an unfelt wind.
©7/14/2019
Intransigence Poetry Contest
John Hamilton sponsor
The eagle landed and proudly placed a feather.
Into the cool, silent lunar sand.
Man hasn't been back in a long time.
It's a difficult and expensive journey.
People become bored with repetition.
Funding dips- starships explode.
Governments get sidetracked by oil and war.
Mars is our new mistress.
An icy redhead, skulls tattooed on her chest.
We want to tempt gravity again.
Plant rows of corn and humanity
Swirl our toes in the cold red sand.
But Mars is nothing but a stepmother.
Uninviting, with a starry cold face.
She'll never provide warmth or much of anything.
But what about Mother Earth?
Our beautiful blue-eyed mother
Garnished with evergreen and water.
Miracles of life around every bend.
Providing everything for her selfish
pigheaded, war children.
Forever the faithful guardian.
What about Mother Earth!
perfect imperfection
Margarita on the rocks
Impetuous with direction
Pigheaded as an ox
Shaken not stirred
Pepsi not coke
Rarely deterred
Deaf when you spoke
Tenacious in a squabble
Fixed in a stance
With liquor she won't wobble
It's an everyday dance
Prideful to a fault
An air of mystery
Her decisions taut
Writes her own history
If your opinion contradicts
No need to refute
Her tongue will throw bricks
She'll play you like a flute
But inside she is harmless
Tasted heaven and hell
Her confidence, far less
Beneath her shell
Brick walls, she constructed
Her father played part
Purity and youth, he destructed
Placing guards around her heart
If you take the time to tame her
A delightful feast
You realize you couldn't blame her
For portraying a beast
pathetic,
pitiful &
pigheaded
perry
peddling his
propaganda by
preying on the
populace,
painting a
picture of the
“popular
pious
politician,” who
profanely
prays for
profit,
professing his
partisan
poisonous
pledges to the
predominant
party leaders,
potential donors &
practioners in his
parish of
paranoid
pro-lifers & anti-gay rights
pontificators, who are
pushing for his
potential run in the republican presidential
primary.
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