Short Pouches Poems

.
I
bet
there are
some kangaroos
out there that get drunk
& wake up with some ridiculous
stuff inside their pouches
the following
day
....

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I open their ketchup pouches.
I open their milks.
I open their napkins
Until the mama girls make themselves known.
Then they do all the opening for the tables.
Amazing their kindergarten classmates....

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A pouch is where a joey
Of a kangaroo resides
And pouches are the bulges 
'Neath your eyes that make-up hides.

Another type of pouch is one
We carry 'round the waist
And baby food's in pouches now.
(The jars have been replaced.)

It fascinates me when a word
Adds meanings through the years.
I guess that compensates for every
Word that disappears....

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Peter’s pesky Pekinese Pepe
produced puddles of pee
proceeded by piles of pernicious pongy poop
Pauline's plimsolls got plastered!

PLEASE use plastic pooper pouches Peter
Pick up your pestilent pets' pooh!

Fiction poem - but my 'pet hate' is folks who don't clean up after their pooch and for now Pauline's plimsoll's are poop free!

2/16/19...

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She might be a hoarder we guessed that day.
When she came gliding by what else could we say?
Attached to her somewhere was a plethora of stuff.
Books, gifts, purses, pouches, satchels all rough.

Her elaborate vest had been constructed from ties.
There must be a seamstress in her life said McDyes.
I bet her house is horrible, said his cousin, Ms. Farr.
I doubt it I told her, she lives in her car....

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there twasn't lights breaking
embarrassment
no, there is illusions of daybreak
i sieve knowing seas, lasting songs
columned bridges dangling low
on lustless ships
deserting grips
guilty spectacles, hived 
crustaceous  criminals
devouring sadness
bells fasting to rebuild glowing hours casting
italian imperialists 
hunting burning forests with wine
liberated toddlers taunting grandfathers
inside of ticking guillotines
burning pouches of mothers milk
...

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