You brought god to me, but told me we must wait
You brought the devil too, he said name your date
Decided to cut my losses, meet everyone half way
For a life of heaven and hell, I wed you right away
2/2/22
Happy Tuesday to you
Happy twos-day to you
Happy Tuesday,
Happy Twos-day
to you
And me too
Today, on 2/2/22
The snow is melting fast.
The river’s rushing southward
As some police boats hurry past.
My bench is dry; I’m sitting
In a little patch of sun,
A respite I’ll enjoy until
The cold’s once more begun.
A date with all those 2’s occurs
Just once, but some will see
A matching one with 3’s, but oh,
How ancient I will be!
The terrible twos
Are here again
The terrible twos
Are making me sin
The terrible twos
Don't tie their shoes
The terrible twos
They go boo-hoo!
The terrible twos
They scream, they shout
The terrible twos
They run about
The terrible twos
Just want their way
The terrible twos
Are here to say
The terrible twos
They do not shine
The terrible twos
They say, "That's mine!"
The terrible twos
Are worse with boys
The terrible twos
They throw toys.
Copyright From A Poet's Heart
7/28/15
What are the remnants of today’s despair?
The unbearable sadness wickedly with intent,
The without pivoting to the realness of in it the context.
Seeming not what is envisioned to be the dispatched,
Developments of self – suckling on to be the for all.
What is of the uniqueness in support,
Through twos and threes and anchored in untested,
The appointments pivoting to the promises blanketed,
Stringing all along for the satisfaction and thrill of self-boost,
In riches and in ego from the to be for all.
What is of the realizations from the day’s count,
The rehabilitation of promises designed to lure through attention,
The today in half term that we still be non-committal and undeterred,
The blockbusting through town classed and egoed,
For them twos and threes inked in greed.
What is the word for tomorrow’s count,
Ghosting through all for the non-assertion of terms following,
The rejections of appointments through creeds and cultures.
For this level of leverage and compensation,
In brotherhood to parties different,
Haha’d by two and threes,
For same woes,
Bad leaders.
Poem by Hudhaifah Siyad Mohamed
Dear two year old daughter
Oh boy, time really flies
Two years of pure happiness
You brought into our lives
You are going through your “terrible twos”
There is really such a thing
Though it drives me a little crazy
It does not compare to the happiness you bring
You are suddenly all over the place
Testing all limits, is what you do
And you are now living proof
Of a childhood phase called "terrible twos"
Then out of the blue you’ll say “mama you are so pretty”
And when I ask “do you love me” you say “yes”
My heart completely bounce with joy
And I truly do feel blessed
You remain moms’ sunshine
My cuddle little person
I feel so much happiness
And you are my little reason
Little two year old daughter
the greatest gift by far
"Terrible twos" and all
I love you just the way you are
I vented the wooden nickel, racing down the highway going to fat couldn't pack;
Eating linoleum flavoured kitchen tea towels cat ridden rodents just got carjacked;
The anchor washed the clothes of the drummer in beat;
While nasty peroxide infinite infiltration spread across the heavens
Also back on them streets
For air aged wooded bleachers and plastic tic-tocks;
How often do the sheep sleep in caves;
Master Rhymer must be rhyming;
Cause! Factor factions decision made divided by bald headed lambs;
Can cottonwood be more than a tree;
As the flights of the washing machine;
Irons out the wrinkled mountain;
The way of flabbergasted ??
Driving past the couple
I could see
They were heading my way
Expecting tea
Now anyone is welcome
At my humble home
Except those two
Why have they come?
She clanks her teeth when she speaks
His nose always running... he eats like that
My stomach turns because she reeks
Her bladder is dodgy, smells worse than a cat
I open the door with a smile
Tea is ready I say with ease
Slurping the liquid she looks quite senile
Have a cake or a biscuit, I try to please
Grabbing the muffin he stuffs it in
Covered in snot, not a pretty site
Started to cough…. is smirking a sin?
Looked at him sweetly saying are u alright.
It is five o'clock time they were gone
I fetch their coats, saying good of you to call in
Sorry you have to go don’t make it so long
Closing the door I rush straight for the gin
Penned 28 February 2017
two years old
always wanting his mommy
screaming when he wakes
and she's away in the kitchen
quiet the moment she holds him
Twos, threes, and one-eyed jacks,
And jokers thrown in too,
These were the wild cards in our poker game,
May seem a lot to you....
But four of a kind to open,
Somewhat evens up the score,
And this was a time of fun,
And we did much, much more
This was our "Military Club"
An idea I did cook up,
To give reason to live,
For old men lost to desperate time
Who's life otherwise passed by them
Turned out an idea sublime
All got ranks in our club,
My uncles were Majors, you see
My father I made the Colonel
And poor old lowly me...
A mere Lieutenant
To drive the staff car around
This became so important to them
My idea had been more than sound
We loved our pool halls
Like most women love a shoe store,
And took turns at each others houses,
And what's even more
After pool we'd have some beers
In one of our watering holes,
And after poker later
A good meal would enrich our souls
Ah, to go one more time
Out with them,
Alas most are gone
And all I have is memories
To help me carry on.
I can count by twos (kind of)
and I’m tying my shoes
(well not anymore)
I don't want to share
it's not fair
I want to have it all
it's my ball.
The tiny tot kicks and screams
sharing is not fun.
Tears a-plenty....sodden cheeks
pommeling arms scratch and pinch
as tiny legs thump the ground.
Drooling lips that sometimes kiss
runny nose ... a water hose
scowling ...red faced....neck veins taut
making mother's already edgy nerves,taut.
Time out......does not work
Take a nap....a mother's joke?
kneel in the corner....come again?
he will not stop...come what may.
Into your room..now...mother says
and walks away with much dismay
hoping the iittle boy will quiet down
but from below she hears the ugly sounds.
In his own time little Wayne
emerges from his room
and cautiously looks around.
I'm all done he says wrapping his arms
around his mother's legs.
Emotionally exhausted, she strokes his hair
and raises her eyes to Heaven and begs
for peace and quiet for a little spell.
I'll be good the little boy says
I'll share my toys with brother
Good boy says mother.....it's nice to share
but stops short at the sight of a new tear in his eyes
a sure sign of another tantrum on its way..