I dedicate my obsequiously fawning poem
to our own Wonder Woman, Ms. Kristi Noem
To refugees and puppies she's oh so mean
But, alas, she's our Homeland Security queen
Demonstrations abhor our sexy fashionista cop
of her cowboy garb and fancy shades they chant STOP!
Others applaud her iron implacable will
along with her cousin, Ms. Cruella De Ville
Just mention her name and MAGA eyes grow misty
As they march in step to the orders of goosesteppin' Kristie
Crush ICE! they shout, this is our home
you're the alien invader, Ms. Kristi Noem
I’m going on break just until XMAS
There’s much to plan for a trip & all the fuss
This is not a break-up, oh no!
Because a break-up means I go solo
It wouldn’t be me— it’s you I love to follow
talk every day, in my tears I shall not wallow
And I’m not one to delete all my poetry
and give no reason for it and do it soley
for the other poets to ponder wherefore or why
as though a swan song shy
Or just up & go away
without any words per se
leaving you to guess what has happened
My friends, this is not the end
I won’t let anything stand between us
So, see you around or after XMAS
Oh to be blessed to see my love,
And to witness a baby laugh.
To discern red from brown,
And dusk from the dawn.
To cherish nature in all its glory,
While rest a bit if they grow weary.
Oh to dream and see them come true,
Shed a tear when things go blue.
The windows to our souls they say --
An echo of truth without betray.
This is my poem.
My poem is done.
Now let's go out
and have some fun.
Rowing Through The Pain
Row, Row, Row your boat gently down the stream
Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily life is but a dream
Row, Row, Row your boat why can’t I scream
Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily perfections not how it seems
Row, Row, Row your boat forever never ends
Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily my pain never mends
Over, Over, Over again until I go insane
Barely, Barely, Barely, Barely rowing through the pain
No, No, No you don’t go crying a river of tears
Hear me, Hear me, Hear me, Hear me crying for all these years
Tom is happy to see
The hog of a dog napping
The sign says beware
Feline’s do not care
Throwing rocks at that dog laughing
Swaying Sensibilities
In the sultry summer nights, wistful waves weave a seductive spell, wet and wild, while whispering winds waltz with wistful wonders, writing tales of tantalizing temptations, tip-toeing towards a torrent of tormented desires.
Scintillating sensations serenade the soul’s sensuous sanctuary, stirring subtle symphonies of sultry seduction, swaying sexy sensibilities.
Climactic contractions culminate and course through our corporal connection,
Pent-up passions pour into your pulsating pelvis,
Powerful primal prowess, pervasive pain, provokes penetrating pleasures,
Our hearts pounding, peak pulse pressures, panting and perspiring; covered in coveted carnal contentment.
-Edward
Peter, Peter Pumpkin eater,
I wish I never heard of meter.
The poet, having found his rhyme,
may sense a shiver down his spine,
cocooned within a rosy glow
exultant that his words now flow.
Emerging from his self-inflicted torture,
the best of words in the very best order.
To write good poetry
is such fun, you begin
with a rare episode
in your life, or other's;
Depth is emotion's code.
To write good poetry
build on experience.
It requres expression,
good imagination,
poet's destination.
To write good poetry
ne'er lose heart things go wrong,
you grow some when you fail.
At times tough at times fun,
most times friend, you just sail.
To write good poetry
appreciate others
be a good sport, comment;
read more and you'll write more,
and live in the moment.
Dawn of spring brings chickens in the family way
When humans are busy gazing at the flowers,
The chickens have got their love priorities right
Instead of lazing away life, spend lusty hours
Chicks born in springtime are active healthy and strong
A secret the wise chickens did know all along
Chicks are like cotton cheese balls so cute and cuddly
Unlike grown-up chickens that have bone beaks oblong
They need to be sent away to the meat markets
To be skinned and hung, sad, they have no right to live
Ironically, pampered, such are fluffy chicks
If only feathered two-legged friends could perceive
Beware, chicks are advised not to devour too much
Raised in farms and fattened, injected and treated
If they don't look after themselves they will end up
On the dinner table, spiced and marinated
To look after their weight, if they are to live long
Enough to enjoy life and sing the Chicken Song
Georgie Pordgie puddin’ and pie
Kissed the girls and made them cry
But when the boys came out to play
Georgie Pordgie ran away
There’s more to this tale than you’ve been told,
Is what happened after Georgie was 16 years old,
It’s why we no longer tell our children this rhyme,
Because sexual assault is a very serious crime.
When old Georgie tried to kiss all the girls,
The sirens wailed and the police car lights whirled,
When Georgie got scared and tried to run away,
They threw him behind bars and he’s there today.
So head this message when this song gets sung,
Just because it was cute when we were very young,
There’s still a lesson we adhere to without fail,
obey all the laws, or you’ll wind up in jail.
A friend and I had a rousing argument
around the supper table the other day
He said when them old fashioned poet would write
‘twas hard to understand what they had to say
I told him it wasn’t so much what they said
but how their words danced within meter and rhyme
The art of words is like painting a picture
'stead of a museum it hangs in your mind
I'll tell you all that my friend’s a true cowboy
he prefers actions instead of using words
Thinks people should tell the true worth of a man
from just watching the way he handles his herd
Says he’s pretty sure that any ole nimrod
can scratch pretty words on some paper with ink
If you’re trying to tell a cowboy something
just get on down to the meat of what you think
Stop prancin’ and dancin’ around with your words
just come right on out and tell me what you mean
Don't dress it up like it’s going two steppin'
it don’t need to be all gussied and preened
That’s the day I learned a very good lesson
bout how poetry was really meant to be
Words written down simple and straight to the point
is the real meaning of cowboy poetry
Not a word unspoken,
You’ve seen it all.
My heart tore open,
I pour to you
Instead of alcohol.
Jesus Christ is a blaisser
He is a provider
Hosanna , Hallelujah!
Hallelujah , Ah - ah!
Amen
Jesus Christ is the head of the church
He is pure honey that cost so much
Hosanna , Hallelujah!
Hallelujah , Ah - ah!
Amen
March 31/2023
By Alfonso Warally Ngengethe Mussabwa Chris
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