I went out in the sunshine
to feel a little glow~
but Texas cranked the thermostat
to way above “too low.”
My forehead felt like frying eggs,
my cheeks began to bake,
my brain said, “Girl, we’re melting,”
like a marshmallow on a stake.
I tried to walk with dignity,
but staggered like a mime~
the sun was doing the hokey-pokey
with my sense of space and time.
My vision wobbled sideways,
my thoughts turned into soup,
I swear I saw a tumbleweed
perform a hula-hoop, loop-de-loop.
And if you hear me muttering
about dancing sycamore trees~
just pat my arm and hand me
a cold drink, pretty please.
He just can’t seem to control himself,
always placing his hands on someone else
Poking around in sensitive places,
mon dem fingers love groping at de silk laces
Always has a salacious sneer
to offer reluctant gender opposites
Mon loves giving a lewd leer,
as his prurient poking never quits
Pokey sits pouting in a pokey today ...
in de dog pound there’s a lot of strays
Mon don’t feel bad for him, no —
he in de right place where de social trash go
fable
Farmer Brown never works on Sunday,
for Sunday is special and they go to church.
Two horses in his barn know of kindness
for of kindness, the Browns talk a lot.
Each Sunday one of their two horses,
one horse drives their wagon to church.
The kids are nice kids, Mrs. Brown is joyful, too
joyful and compassionate like Jesus.
This Sunday, the oldest horse stayed back
stayed back with a weak leg to rest.
Looking out the barn, Ole Pokey saw the sheep,
wild and wooly sheep had broke through the gate.
Knowing how important the sheep are …
the sheep are the Brown’s livelihood,
Old Pokey wakes the lazy dog with a start
with a start to start rounding up sheep.
As the family returned from their worship
worship of Almighty God, they found
their horse limping, but pacing the open corral
corralling the sheep back inside.
Children, this story I tell to show you
to show you that kindness to animals pays.
Old Pokey was hurting but that didn’t matter,
what mattered was a love for his master.
Uncle Sam's Hokey Pokey
_______________________
l l l l l
ya' put your red flag in
ya'
put your red flag out
ya'
put your red flag in
and ya'
shake it all around.
* * *
ya' stop this hocus pocus
and we'll turn this thing around
end war's what it's all about!
The Man in the Pokey
There once was a man in the pokey.
He was dancing; his movements were hokey.
He jiggled and jumped.
Then fell on his rump.
So he sat there and sang karaoke.
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
February 12, 2010
Poetic form: Limerick
Love, to me, is caring without caring
holding on while letting go
Screaming silently, in joy,
Saying what you want, without saying a thing,
Laughing with your eyes, because it means so much more.
Love, to me, means showing who you are,
--- because you want to.
Love is, doing the little things, out of habit.
Love is, learning that she is always right,
--- and if she isn't, you'll fix it for her.
I believe in love and that it can happen
--- but like a fine house, it must be built,
--- not bought.
I believe, no matter what color you paint that house
--- If it isn't happy inside it shows outside.
I know love is real and that I can have it
--- I don't know when
--- I don't know who
--- I don't know where
--- I do know when love has been sent
--- I will discover what it means....
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