When I was walking in the zoo,
I saw a strange and wondrous sight.
You would have found in funny too,
Unlikely creatures in a fight.
I saw a strange and wondrous sight,
A hippo fighting with a cat.
Hyenas really laughed at that.
You would have found it funny too.
The pair were really not well matched.
Of course the cat was soon dispatched.
Unlikely creatures in a fight.
But cats have nine lives as you know
And so he still has eight to go
I had an offer to play a game of scrabble online
There was no chatting in the room to give me a sign
about whom my worthy opponent could possibly be
but we were well matched by the score, I could see
Assumed it was a guy from the name he was using
My Mistake was his screen ID, and I found it amusing
I'd been Southern Lady for years. No need for a change
Then, he made a word that made me feel a bit strange
My forehead and brows furrowed as he played 'heart.'
It was a triple word score to which I added 'break.'
On his very next turn, I frowned when he wrote, 'lady.'
I was suspicious. Something about him was a bit shady.
Caution warned me to be careful, but I stayed and played.
With twenty-two points on his turn he wrote, 'persuade.'
Could it be that his words were hidden messages for me?
I was being silly until he added honey to the word, 'bee.'
It's what he called me during the years we were married
The thought that it was him left me anxious and harried.
My heartbeat was racing, and my apprehension was riven
until on the board he wrote, 'sorry' and I added 'forgiven'
He had a duffel coat once,
so did she. They must have looked
well-matched
walking in Regents Park
that Autumn.
In time
the coat shop on Oxford Street
died of old age.
Duffel went out of style.
They wore them still.
One day
her duffel was neatly folded,
into a labeled, cardboard box.
His coat developed Alzheimer’s
in a tumble-down closet.
When they unhooked from each other,
he packed only empty pockets,
and a small bundled
of toggles and loops.
Though my lips are known to stutter when I talk
And my heart is known to flutter when I gawk
For your love and love alone I would be great
Just to reach you in my catatonic state
Oh the fire burns and what am I to do
On the kindle of a love I have for you
There is heat that burns the emptiness inside
On the sweet returns of happiness I glide
I have tried to be the master of my fate
But my dreams are running faster than my gait
And my fantasies are counting way too much
Though my ecstacies are mounting over such
If my income and my outcome are well-matched
And my savings and my cravings are attached
There is nothing more that I could ask of you
Than to love me for the way my sky is blue
Though my feet are more precocious when I sprint
And this heat of mine is shrinking to a glint
And my sense of time is jelling to my state
Still my tense of time is telling me to wait.
Ode to Fanny
Her start in life was rather poor
with wastrel parents, ones to abhor
She avoided living in the gutter
Earning enough for her bread and butter
Her break in life came rather later
Before, bigamy and babies to underrate her
Her kids grew up in the care of another
She never took to being a mother
Her culinary skills proved rather good
She could write and critique on all kinds of food
Destined to star in sixties telly
She graced her shows in glitzy finery
Her zany persona was rather dippy
Her dress was ball gown and misplaced lippy
Shunning apron and hat that looked so drab
‘Cos cooking and baking should always look fab
The man she had met was rather fine
Ex army major, life was divine
They fronted shows as man and wife
Fanny and Johny, well matched and no strife
Her fame continued for rather a while
Overridden by others in different style
And gaffes too many, they booted her out
No telly shows, no gowns to flout
Her recipes of the past still rather great
She put pizza and prawn cocktail on our plate
She and Johny, always a couple
Poor but content to remain conjugal
Ooh rather!
He sleeps soundly
not a sigh, murmur or stir,
while restless in my dreams
I toss and turn unheard
to find him in his comfort zone
still and unawares
that I am here.
When morning comes
he doesn't wake
as I rise to shower and dress
making coffee, toast, and eggs,
the aroma wafting thru the house
and still, he sleeps
undisturbed in our bed.
I sip a cup
quietly with only a glint
of rising sunlight
as birds softly begin to sing
awakening to the new day
the clouds begin to form
and here comes the tip tap of the rain.
I put in the wash
laundry from the workweek passed
and Saturday begins alone again
while he sleeps,
slowly, he rises, slips down to the kitchen where
his arms wrap around to hug and kiss me,
aren't we a well-matched pair?.
Our city is three restaurants, a roller rink, and a rundown dorm. We fly over red brick roads on truck beds and the squeaky wheels of shopping carts. Don't ask where we got them. Nothing good ever happen in this town, so we happen for ourselves, screaming at the moon and each other and running through the lakes that form when it rains. And our city knows how to rain. She is dying and old but we are dying and young. Well-matched, we are seventeen and waiting on an epiphany. Here is as good a place for one as any. We sit under the cover and wait for the storm.
APPASSIONATO
He made overtures to her,
With the time-honoured chat-up line,
“We could make sweet music together;
I want to make you mine.”
She conducted herself quite cautiously;
Remained composed and calm.
A duet might be pleasant;
And he certainly had charm.
But she didn’t want to rush things,
The tempo should be slow.
He wished to proceed allegro,
She favoured adagio.
She played second oboe,
While he was a double bass.
They came from different cultures,
A thing she found hard to embrace.
And so she resisted his overtures,
They really weren’t well-matched.
She had an affaire with a flautist instead;
A thing with no strings attached.
2nd July 2019
Music Theme Contest
Sponsor - Geraldine Taylor
This redneck is fixin' to go dancin'
You reckon we get gussied up and go?
I'll be a high flutin' and a prancin'
Is the honky-tonk puttin' on a show?
Shall I wear my fanciest clod hoppers?
Shall I phone all your fiddle playin' kin?
I am gonna be such a show stopper.
We shall enter the dance contest and win.
I've got a hankerin' for hot romance,
And some granny-slappin' hillbilly sex.
Bear ten younguns, live in 'ternity pants
Did you just skedaddle, my newest ex?
Dern it, Darlin', thought we were so well matched.
I counted my chickens before they hatched!
Written 3/2/2017
Entered in Mid December Premiere
Hosted by Brian Strand
Fingernails begin to grow
When babies are in utero
And keep on growing ‘til we die
Though some appear to death-defy.
A person’s nails can help reveal
Why someone’s lacking in appeal;
For those not clean or way too long
Will advertise there’s something wrong.
To know what makes a person tick
Take note of nails bit to the quick,
But lengthy painted nails can tell
A lot about a gal, as well.
To polish, buff or leave them plain?
Our fingernails are our domain
And likely they are quite well matched
To those to whom they are attached.
This fleshly body of yours you torture me with
Swinging my head in oscillation of your catwalk
Those lips sticking in the atmosphere with lipstick
Just soon they will be decay decomposing under the grave
Those darling daring eyes will be hotchpots for worms
And termites will terminate those titillating ****
Your well matched teeth will devilishly smile to eternity
That belly will burst open under devouring heat of vault
Let go when those tendons still be tender
Otherwise this diamond neck chain will soon be a rolling rope
These roses stitched into wreath of no hope
Those earrings turned into screws screwing your casket
And this golden spoon in my hand will be a cruel shovel
That fervent face powder like this chocolate will be dust
And to ashes all this lust
The air is furtive for fighter's stance
Pacing around the mat, casting bully's glance
Opponents clutch shoulder to shoulder
Flying initial surge of violent lust-
But the well matched counter aggression
Soon it is wrestle and advance
Forward hip momentum to surgical degree
Suddenly an arm is caught and gripped
At an impossible angle, nerves are stripped
It's submit or injury, the fight reaching its peak
In a moment of instinct, a hidden valve comes loose
Wounded animal unleashed refusing to submit
The hold is broken through a blast of urgency
candles lit
wax drips
I am firmly
in your grips
underneath
Egyptian sheets
passion grows
as our love heats
in my heart
you're the part
I knew it well
from the start
it all fits
well matched wits
loving all
I taste of this
THE UGLIES
He stood slouched and dirty and hopeless
She was desperately cigaretteless
They were breedless but together
Uglified in a natural way altogether
Uglicity personified
Their mothers would be horrified
No homes, no money, just beggarhood
Together outside Mc Connel’s fast food
(They were prominent users of the toilet)
Scrounging cash for chicken nugget -
Real chicken - beaks and feet -
And stayed for the free cosy heat
Sipping my latte and nibbling a waffle
Eyeballing his coat maybe won in a raffle
They did everything together horribly
The pair were well-matched - ugly .
I watched how they lowered the tone,
Then I left in disgust - alone.