Primly Poems

jester and his round clocks

Jester collects round clocks
He puts them in his lap
Barely moving, so none of them rocks.
He is a gentleman without flap

Sits primly with his back straight
Protecting his bounty for sure
Jester is a guy first rate
Keeps those clocks pristinely pure

Teddy Bears Hat and Scarf

Helen had a teddy bear’s hat of blue 
She had a teddy bear’s scarf
I bet her underwear is full of bears too
Said an uncouth guy name of Barf

I have regular white panties today
She said primly in a not very nice way
Irritated that is what he did say
Barf and she never got along at all after that day

Blue Hat Dream

Curled up on the floor. In the middle of the day. I dream.
Images of hats and pills come out of nowhere. 

“I visit my garden each morning 
searching the ground to see
if the unused pills I found 
in my mother’s pill boxes,
and planted, had produced
a rose or purple Phlox.
I buried her tablet boxes, 
buried them, like tiny coffins.
I lined the miniature graves
with crushed blue velvet,
(like the cases that stored 
her elegant forks used only 
on special occasions, 
at four o’clock tea-time, 
the cake served primly
on gold-rimmed plates).

Treading through the wet grass, 
rootling through the fertile soil,
I saw, without surprise,
blue hats growing wild, 
velvet and tulle, 
pills and sequins 
scattered and whimsical,
my mother decorating 
their botanical brims
with silver cake forks 
tied with ribbons”.

I wake up,
eyes blurred,
I can barely see.
I make a cup of tea,
cut a slice of currant cake, 
and eat it with a small, 
antique English fork.

A Walk To the River

A scarlet tanager sits primly on the rail
Of the new fence erected near the meadow,
He eyes me stroll as I take in every detail
The path to the woodland is rather narrow,

Infrequently used, it is rapidly overgrowing
I am brushing against the yellow yarrow,
As hottest of summer is fast approaching
The meadowland has nary a cooling shadow.

Happily, I note the salt lick has disappeared
I hope its purposes were well-intentioned,
Certainly not as the hunter’s ploy, I feared
In a previous post, I am sure I mentioned.

I feel the coolness of the pleasant breeze
As I approach the edge of the tree line
Where meadow gives way to aspen trees,
And further on, a stand of taller pine. 

I shall follow the trail through the wood
To the river which I can faintly hear, ahead
Where I saw a huge buck in full manhood,
And I have seen signs of where he bed.
   
It is a good two-mile hike, not exhausting
But I stop to examine new growth along
And for moments to reflect, I am pausing,
I’m encouraged by the tanager’s song. 

Written June 18, 2022

She Dared the Tigers

Daring the tigers to toss her aside
To flay her open, and eat her hide
She sat prissily and primly, happily too.
Planning to take these tigers out of the zoo.

The tigers got wind of it and threw her over the wall.
They liked not having to hunt dinner, tiny rabbits so small.
They were spoiled and happy, their dinner was at five.
She knew better than to crawl back there, lucky to be alive.

Non Prissy Picnic

Hello pristine prissy people, now please go away.
I am eating a fine fantastic picnic lunch today.
Natural things out here crawl around and abide.
My little boy self is happy, he I shall not hide.

There’s an ant brigade on my left ankle and knee.
Dirt and dander that would make a hoarder quickly flee.
Something black is floating around in my glass of milk.
Go sit inside primly with your blue satin and silk.

White bird droppings are next to my purple porcelain plate.
You do not mind dirt? Then okay, it is a lunch date. 
If you get finicky about things dirty or unclean 
You might not like having lunch outside in this land of green.

Pristine Pink Petticoat

A pristine pink petticoat prissily pranced priggishly and primly.
A prideful prima donna prisoner of Peggy’s prideful preteen
promenade.

Math Class Hell

Did she say time numbers or prime numbers? 
I was sure it was not rhyme numbers. 
She is staring at me. Miss Johnson, math teacher.
Takes daydreaming in class as a personal affront.
Her eyes narrow. I yawn. Bad move.

Could you demonstrate this on the board, Caren?
Out of all the students in all the math penitenturies in all the galaxies….
Miss Johnson moves her head toward the blackboard.
When I get there I pick up a piece of smeary chalk.
Where to begin? 

“Make two columns,” she says primly.  
I understand now why no man has been desperate enough to marry her.
“One for prime and one for composite.”
A clue. Maybe prime is odd and composite is even?
I make the columns.

The second I throw down the one and the two hands are up.
Every classmate wants a turn to redo my work.
The math brains are dying to show Miss Johnson they were listening.
I remember thinking “When am I ever going to need this?”
That was fifty-seven years ago, and frankly, I never have needed it for any reason.
Prime, crime, rhyme, dime, lime, mime, lime.
Who cares?
P.S. Miss Johnson never did get married.

Easter Church Ladies

So polite. Wearing gloves. And hats. Hair in Easter colors.
Church ladies; prissy, smiling, crackling in their perfumes.
Flowered dresses, sitting primly on the hard wooden pews,
Singing in loud overtones songs they have known for decades.

Smiling at the Easter bonnets, and the tiny white lace gloves
Worn only by them and the toddlers now, everyone else in
Blue jeans, plaids, regular street clothes,
Sunday best no longer applies

Still they come, in their lavender hair, wearing their Bibles
In sheaves and satchels, letting their slips hang a bit in back.
Not as lively as before, but still with sparks they throw the
Way of Old Bill, the only bachelor over eighty, the reason some still come.

His Nose Is Broken

Two serious girls with long dark hair.
Enter the school office loudly and proudly. 
Their voices are shrill.
Their eyes are huge.

They are half carrying a classmate.
He is their charge, and they are taking this job seriously.
The girls do all the talking as they drag him 
Past saloon doors, into the Nurse’s station

“His nose is broken,” one primly tells the nurse.
“He is bleeding, call the ambulance,” the other one says.
The nurse and I smile.

There is nothing as much fun
As watching a semi- helpless five-year-old boy
Being led in by two experts,
Female kindergarten classmates.

Why Did You Not Tell Me

Three women friends, riding in a golf cart, an arboretum journey.
The sky was overcast, the mood jubilant, we were ready for fun.
A reverence and sacred silence met us as we entered the park.
There were ten different gardens, named, with plaques.
Daises and bleeding heart, stood proudly and primly.
This was a well-planned excursion to a magical place.
It did not disappoint – massive sculptures were plaqued and signed.
I took photos from my seat in the back, facing where we had gone,
Not where we were going.  I had volunteered for this rumble seat.
One raindrop felt charming to me. I announced it.
We laughed about it, at the same time, on watch.
Lightning meant we would have to take the golf cart back.
One drop turned a rapid, unexpected rain storm.
There was no way to stay dry back here or up front.
The canopy designed for sun was no challenge for the water that pounded us.
Tell me if you are getting too wet, the driver said.
We laughed, announcing how wet we already were, not wanting to turn back,
Wanting to see everything.
We were getting soaked but it was worth it.

Razzle Dazzle Rose

RAZZLE—DAZZLE ROSE

Cherubic piping of baker’s icing,
Rose petals: pink, yellow, orange, purple.
Satisfies iris of my inner soul.

Panache yellow, flickers, flashes mine eyes.
Tangerine tropical juice primly squeezed.
With romantic swoosh, kissed, by pink pursed lips.
Light stroke of purple blend from Kincaid’s brush.

This hypnotic beauty, a prized dayspring.
The sun spots bedazzle in xanthous light.
Razzle-dazzle of Victorian vine.

Behind Belle’s ear, the beast falls to his knees,
pleading for his life or death. The regale
from Eden’s garden at peak perfection.

4/19/2018

Treasure

I noticed her two weeks ago.
She flew into my physics lab 
like hell itself was after her
and tripped as she sat down.
She's always late for classes,
stammers her apologies,
flustered and myopic, her glasses 
primly perched upon her nose.

Accident-prone, she barreled
through the library like Grant 
attacking Richmond, giggling nervously 
as she checked out her books.
To me she is a treasure, a whirling 
dervish dressed in black and white,
always black and white, like for her
it's some particular religion.

I asked her to the movies. She acted 
like I was the first who'd ever taken 
interest, she was flattered but she 
flatly and decidedly said no.
She had thrown down the gauntlet,
so I set out to woo her with my wit
and charm, taking every opportunity
to bump into her when and where I could.

Finally she acquiesced, and when 
she slowed down enough to smile
and chat and laugh and joke with me
my heart was hers to keep!

Ties That Blind

Grandmother and grandson,
their faces cast so profoundly 
from one mold,
or is it the struggles shared
that have left the same
clefts and furrows
on both?

Sunday visit in Tim Horton's;
She, primly sipping Iced cap
He, hungrily scratching Lottery tickets.

Never looking at 
the other's face,
each too busy
quietly, yet impatiently 
auditing the allotted minutes.

Or is it their fear 
of seeing the reflection of truth
that blocks their view?

This invisible division
sits between them,
like the sun 
uncomfortably
blotting out the view
through a windshield.

He, scratches and does not win,
then leaves her to primly sip
as he methodically flees
to his ageing car.

She, sips without pleasure
discretely watching  
through the glare,
his slouching retreat.

The ties that bind
can be truly blinding.

See you next Sunday dear?

Treasure

I noticed her two weeks ago.
She flew into my physics lab 
like hell itself was after her
and tripped as she sat down.
She's always late for classes,
stammers her apologies,
flustered and myopic, her glasses 
primly perched upon her nose.

Accident-prone, she barreled
through the library like Grant 
attacking Richmond, giggling nervously 
as she checked out her books.
To me she is a treasure, a whirling 
dervish dressed in black and white,
always black and white, like for her
it's some particular religion.

I asked her to the movies. She acted 
like I was the first who'd ever taken 
interest, she was flattered but she 
flatly and decidedly said no.
She had thrown down the gauntlet,
so I set out to woo her with my wit
and charm, taking every opportunity
to bump into her when and where I could.

Finally she acquiesced, and when 
she slowed down enough to smile
and chat and laugh and joke with me
my heart was hers to keep!

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