Branches thatch a spackled sky.
Snow lays itself down
to sleep lightly.
An airborne coyote-itch addles
drops of sunlight
until they drizzle.
Splatters of graying-green
on the hairy chops of groundhogs
as they scrape up a scant buffet.
One Scarlet Cardinal bobs,
its ruby flounced headdress
scattering scads of frost.
Winter shucks its hoary hide,
stepping through a muddy mirage
of Spring.
Fanged winds pounce.
Puddles of rain return to ice.
Ballpoint pens or sharpened pencils,
Scads of pads of virgin papers,
These are the tools,
The base utensils,
This poet needs for his mental capers.
Thesaurus and dictionary close at hand,
A steaming mug on the chairside stand.
Prepared, I wait with anticipation…
What's keeping that muse
With the inspiration?
How about when stores jack up their prices
Then reduce them and call it a sale
I've been on to these devious practices for years
Their attempt to bamboozle us has failed
Annoying commercials that treat us like morons
As if we're gonna fall for that stuff
Like if you brush with mint flavoured toothpaste
Your sweetie will greet you in the buff
How about optometrists with really bad breath
As they lean over to adjust that eye thing
More than once I nearly passed out in the chair
Need a sign on the door with a warning
Or when you're at a game with the whole family
And a guy gets drunk and obnoxious
Using every cuss word ever known to mankind
You wish you could muzzle this ignoramus
You pay scads of dough for a vacation down south
And it rains every day of your stay
Your condo smells like the back end of a donkey
A most forgettable vacation I'd say
Well I'm sure most people can relate to these
You probably have a bunch of your own
Should be a service called Pet Peeves Anonymous
Or a help line you could contact by phone
Are all the successful people in the world
Content and happy with their lives
Is a mansion on a hilltop with scads of dough
The only thing we need to survive
Nay nay good people, we need interaction
With others to inspire great things
The loving relationships of family and friends
Without them, we feel loneliness' sting
Floundering at sea like a rudderless ship
Being tossed to and fro by life's trials
It's really quite normal to crave some attention
We need human contact for survival
Why must we always keep up with the Jones'
Why not appreciate what we've got
Lucky to be alive on this luscious green earth
Taking care of our own little plot
Certainly no expert but I do know how things
Can affect each one of our lives
So always think positive wherever you go
Even giving strangers high fives
The shock and great joy on all of their faces
Is worth the small effort it takes
To share your enthusiasm and true lust for life
Till you arrive at those Pearly Gates!
At 13 years of age, a pamphlet
Showed up in my home.
My mother bought it, not to be
The subject of a poem.
It was intended to explain
(A lecture would be worse)
The facts of menstruation,
Often called the “woman’s curse.”
Modess, a manufacturer
Of sanitary pads,
Produced the booklet; it cost
Just a quarter; they made scads.
The title always bothered me,
For what would be the need
To try to get young girls to like
A messy monthly bleed?
A novel I am reading
Brought this little pamphlet back.
A character is using it
For knowledge she does lack.
It’s rare to find a copy
So on Amazon they’re hiking it
To almost 90 bucks, another
Reason for not liking it.
my mind teases me with reminder of other failures
everything I have not finished
scads of ridicule taking away optimism
fresh crisp white paper lies dormant
I walk away in defeat
ordinary humdrum chastisement
by muse who is tired of ordinary things
takes a toll today
maybe tomorrow I can be a poet
I eat my misery away with sugar and salt
feeling the cancer devouring my colon
determination brings me back
I stare down my imagination
she sneers that I do not have the words
you are no wordsmith! She screams
I pick up the pen
dancing and prancing leap onto the page
my heart is heavy
today is not the day to become a writer.
Children dashing and laughing throughout the mess.
Moms and dads trying not to throw away toys
As they gather up scads of shredded Christmas wrapping
Grandmas begging them to keep the bows.
Blinking twinkling Christmas tree looking less magical,
Appears shabbier in the morning than it did last night
Boys with swords having a dual, chasing each other.
One nervous grandma mentioning the danger.
Granddads sleeping in their recliners, not hearing any of it
Someone yelling “That is your last Christmas cookie!”
Her sisters chiding her, making fun, hugging her.
Everyone grown up is a kid for a day, with their grown siblings.
Christmas at Grandma’s house, nothing like it.
Only once a year, making memories for a life time
Beef and noodles, scalloped corn, mashed potatoes
Five kinds of pies, mints, cookies. Wow!
Children watching their parents becoming kids again
As their mothers tell them what to do.
Not all children, some are sneaking mints and nuts.
Homemade Christmas stockings thrown into clumps.
Christmas feelings without names
More intense than other feelings
More personal, more exciting, more magical
Christmas. A day to celebrate our Christ Child.
Dancing leaves
Swaying trees
Autumn time is here
Air is crisp
Wind is brisk
Gusts from far and near
Leaves fall steady
Like confetti
Faster than they grew
Gold and brown
All around
Moist from morning dew
Harvests high
Wheat and rye
Squash and pumpkins accrued
Blackbirds flee
Squirrels spree
Storing winter food
Scads of fun
In gentle sun
Best time of the year
Dancing leaves
Swaying trees
Autumn time is here.
The psychedelic oranges and greens of the seventies
Brought scads of foils and flocks into homes that had been
Saturated before with flowered, and vined wall papers.
Nehru jackets, hippies, flower children, and Viet Nam soldiers
Permeated the news, saturating our breakfast newspapers.
Colored TV is exciting, but worth the extra expense? Not sure.
Children are joining communes, making new families.
Questioning their parents, their politicians, and the war.
A war which the young soldiers are not allowed to question.
Religion is losing her grip on the family.
Sex is no longer blatantly reserved for marriage.
A revolutionary time brought about on the heels of hero assassinations.
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and the Kennedy boys glancing down
From their heavenly seats, wondering what is to become of us.
I wish I could say things got better….
Someone might use that for ...has never shown up.
Someone could do something with that ...is absent too.
If I lost ten pounds, I could ... has filled my closet up
With scads of unworn clothes in oranges and blues.
I have had a great life, but I am truly not done.
We’re surely in this world to have a little fun.
People who know me, truthfully and happily say.
This woman is always sure of a really fine day,
I advise you to do something to issue some play
I will spice up my cleaning, to happy up my day.
I set the timer when I clean the filthy kitchen.
Then I race the clock, like a switch that is a twitch’n.
Play wash the counters with a new, freshly laundered rag.
To collect enough dirt to make a cleaning freak gag.
Cleaning bedroom closets seems to be my biggest chore.
I do after all of the hanging clothes are on the floor.
Have many wonderful hobbies that keep me happy.
Write poetry, limericks, couplets, but nothing sappy.
Have lived many years, and the best idea I’ve found
To get energetic is to keep children around.
If children are not accessible, which is often true.
You can always find a man; a long-time husband will do.
Scads of men have no problem bringing fun to their life.
Leaving the cleaning, and the cooking a to-do for their wife.
I learned long ago, to stop all this nonsensical cleaning.
Because painting, dancing, and writing are all much more freeing.
Fire burning in the box
Warms the pages that I yearn
Sipping nectar tickles bliss
The world outside can turn
Clock tick tocks away from here
Nestled from within
Warmth loosens up my mind
Silence is deafening
Playful noisy little lad
Whose dog can’t wait to please
Silence gone on scads of mad
Chased like working bees
Home where all matter shapes
Emotions are in play
Excitement depress joy and bliss
Arrived then swept away
Winds caressing fringes of
her deep chocolate tresses
as tree nymphs nimbly hid
midst fallen maple leaves
happily prancing round toes,
whilst a crescendo of chimes
played off in near distances,
warm apple pie aroma wafting
upon a zephyr tickling her nose,
unfastened her reddish cloak
for her e'er plunging neckline
exposed an ample décolletage
voluptuously heaving in broad
daylight waiting to seduce a crafty
wolf in sheep's clothing she had afore
encountered on the way to grannies,
called ahead to make reservations
for her & handsome knighted chef
hiding amidst the dark forest with
his trusty sharpened butcher knife,
had acquired Wolfgang Puck's
wickedly-satisfying secret recipe
for savory pack-of-wolves stew
Li'l Reddish Revenge is a dish best served cold-blooded with liberal
scads of punitive napkins and a bottle of vindictively chilled Chianti
Halloween is Finally Here
By Franklin Price
10/31/2016
Halloween is finally here
And coming down the street
Will be scads of costumed children
With their bags for Trick or Treat
The bags to hold the bounty
That is really hard to beat
We sometimes ask them who they are
In the costumes that we greet
They don't know why they do it
But they know it's really neat
When they knock on doors that open
And there's candy there to eat
We drop the candy in the bag
The kids so fun to meet
Then they go along their scary way
To continue Trick or Treat
Stop watching me with those derisory eyes
sweet like bear claw
spicy like a bell pepper
give me back my barette
I'm not letting my hair down'
from cooties to copacetic my biggest disease
jus like when u was freshman
lost your retainer cried all day
give me back my fanny pack
you kept it all those years
crazy grifter lost on the freeway
looking for route 66 in a gay way
why you back jerk off?
scads of luv but to late
here's a sawbuck go call someone who cares!
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