He has a forked tongue
He shoots words like a gun
I only wished to cuddle and spoon
Found Prince Charming really a goon
Hanging hope on garden roses
Licking love from silver spoons
On the run in tundras frozen
Throwing howls at the moon
No true way to leave the castle
Though you came here on your own
Sometimes you are a prisoner
Sometimes you’re on the throne
Though his rugged mange offends you
His venom’s nothing new
Still he keeps you close to him
Beauty is a beast too
There once was a girl from the south
Who had a hard time with her mouth
Boy with same issue said, (S)"poon!"
She said, "Not poon! We say, "poon!"
Correcting his speech without doubt.
To thin girl we constantly had to say,
"Pull up your pants, the moon shines not in day!"
She noticed my shirt, cut low...
"Mrs.Crystol! Your buttcrack shows!"
Sure enough, too much cleavage on display!
Snowman spoons we tenderly made,
Some looked sickle and some looked spade;
Snowmen on cocoa hot,
Lay forethought spot forgot;
On each, our kitten made a raid…!
29 November 2022
Milton’s Dork had a brother in Troon
Who had hoped he’d be cuddling soon
With a cute dominatrix
Who hailed from The Matrix
Until she said, “There is no spoon!”
————
(Inspired by ‘The Town Dork’ by L Milton Hankins)
With Careful Spoons
Your perfume essence speaks of lazy afternoons under sage trees.
You kissed my bent neck with a pointed snake of sweet saliva eyes.
Now we are twisting inside my slow tilted bedroom with creep shoes.
Your gray short skirt shows slender legs flashing firm nylon divots.
Panties white and tight beckon my touch amidst the soft furniture.
Lips gesticulating now with puckered tentacles made of sugared spit.
Taloned fingers with pink polished probings find the noble charge.
Music-playing minestrone tasters come to dance with careful spoons.
Why have you lead me into this frothing dream web of lilac spume?
We kiss now with mind-rushing lip lashings glued to the secret night.
We delve now with our bending statuary into the new morning light.
The sweat was wiped off the brow
The spoon was stirred as they knew how
For 18 times they tried to win
A story state to be in
And KG woke to find a haul
Of wooden spoons counted one and all
How to curb such an embarrassment
Even when The Advertiser had it sent
So they dili and dali about
Or how do I let the hurt and shame out
A summer now so quietly spent
Looking as bad as Tex’s ear is bent.
© Paul Warren Poetry
i've often been
off and on
again in
situations
relationships
just about every
thing and so i
have found
not a
remedy
but solution
to giving up my
mind to fate
by taking
a coin
picking heads
as a yes tails as
a no and throwing it
in the air then
catching it
flipping it
over to
avoid any
tinkering with
chance and so
should i pursue
my master's degree
should i ask for her hand
in marriage
should i post
this poem and
the list
goes on
as so does
the toss
but wisely
said by Yogi
Berra
if you come
to a fork in the
road
take
it
Uri had a little spoon
He stroked it with intent
And everywhere that Uri went
The spoons were proper bent
© Gail Foster 23rd March 2019
Our bodies make an S at night. Close and tight. My back to your front.
But, by day, no S. Only a peck or a pat.
We intersect, but do not connect.
And night after night, no passion in sight. Before, or after, the S.
Qtips
And spoons
All I need
Will come now soon
Enough
Now I wont
Have it so rough
Lecturer came in class boasting
ready to lecture to students
in his hand was a nice brief case
not of lecture materials
but of something else
it was a brief case of spoons
He stumbled and the thing fell
unwashed plates, saucepans, spoons
scattered all over classroom
students run out scared
laughing and bending with laughter
covering their mouth to control laughter
“free film, free film
come and see proud man’s scandal”
they shouted as they laughed
They hid their faces
for fear of academic punishment
in case noticed
by the angry.
Where are they now the fighters?
Fighting for their freedom as well as ours
Survivors of those turbulent war years
The silent heroes
Saving us
Sparing us the trauma they faced
Hiding from us their fears
And the actions forced upon them
The nightmare’s they faced
Were theirs alone
They sheltered us with their silence
And now we curiously pick at their wounds
Dig into the memories they tried to forget
So that their sorrow becomes our sorrow
Their mistakes not forgiven and forgotten
But displayed before a changed world
Silver spoons stolen, a tragic union
Children taken … so long ago
Even their stories are silenced by death
If only we could respect their hard fought lesson
That Silence is golden
If you think that money brings happiness, then you're wrong....
that thought makes your heart weak, you got to make it strong...
kings too cry inside their castles...
and fight their own hidden battles...
Everybody is good at wearing plastic smiles...
hiding their problems which are in piles...
silver spoons aren't always a blessing...
so think twice before wishing...
Money can't revive a lifeless heart...
or break two souls apart...
do not let dollar signs blind you...
and do not judge others without a clue...
The rich hide their tears behind Ray-Ban shades..
and feels helpless even with hundreds of maids...
happiness is self driven...
so be thankful for what you've been given...
June 01, 2008
Silver Spoons
The disruption and the dismay left my will fray.
Corrupted and disillusioned are the eyes that see.
Bottled up and distilled are the souls sitting to be.
I’m just stunned they were all left being that way
Duck, duck goose I’ll tap their heads as they pray.
One, two and three I will count every drop of tea.
Lucky for all them I’m a gift that has been set free.
Maybe I’ll serve them silver spoons on a new tray.
Tempted and defeated they slobbered at the mouth.
Disgusting and ridiculous I accepted their true fate.
Undeserving and unworthy it makes me head South.
I tell you it is a true fine line between love and hate.
They power and feed off of one to another.
To be or not be I'll ask a Heavenly Mother.
© Copyright: Ann Rich 2008
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