Never knew my grandpa's,
they were too old.
I cannot now sing
true grampus songs.
I get all teary-eyed
about those two dead and gonners.
I dream of going fishing with them,
listening to their tall tales,
and, well you know,
just getting along fine with the old guys.
Hey Grandaddies, what's up?
Do you look up
or down on me -
your once
whippersnapper blood-kin?
I'm a grandpappy myself now.
with grandkids,
It's grand,
Do you miss that toy train?
It went: choo-choo-choo,
you bought it for your own nippers
and it got passed down,
sorry, gramps,
I lost it somewhere along the line,
like I lost you.
Maybe you are both riding
that loco now,
just chuffing along with a huff- huff
and choo-choo glee.
Wish I could hear,
wish I could see.
His knob-shaped knees hang out all over the place
What kind of a dancer would he be in this small space?
Gif was a wall flower for sure, left sitting on Sadie Hawkins Day.
With his gangly feet and knobby knees getting in other sitters’ way.
Some of the uncouth laughed at his large polka dot pants.
None of them knew that this groovy giraffe knew how to dance.
He is wearing converse shoes from 1982, one said with disdain.
And for a sun-glassed giraffe, I think this one looks very plain.
I think I’ll give him a whirl, a young whippersnapper said.
She gave him the eye, and learned that his name is Ed.
He twirled and whirled her and threw her in the air.
He spun her like a top, dancing beyond Fred Astaire.
Now everyone is in line waiting to dance with little old Gif.
I am sorry, he tells them without anger, prissiness or miff.
She is the one who gave me my first and only chance.
I shall continue spinning her until the end of the dance.
They came away with the grand prize of the night.
A huge silver number one cup, which held a spotlight.
once lives discovered
inevitable transformations
illegal apostrophe vortex.
whippersnapper extractions,
are whisperings enough?
virtual transitions
all lives interdefined
never ending romances
beyond our now nowness
TAXI!
Why do you look so old? The child asks me.
Not my favorite child, and he is losing ground rapidly.
Why do you think? I reply. “I am old.”
How old are you?
I am a hundred and twelve.
That quiets the whippersnapper for a few seconds.
He is whining now, disbelieving me, calling me names.
The youth of today are not like us.
I want to scream “I am twelve inside, no older than nine some days.”
But my polka dotted hands and my wrinkling bulldog neck says more.
Not to mention the arthritis in both ankles which slow me down.
“Why are you so impertinent and fresh?” I want to say to the child.
But these words are well beyond his scope.
We have dumbed down society until I do not think
We can dumb it down any more,
So I hobble away, cherishing my superiority.
young whippersnapper brain
pours out her last idea
flicking adjectives into dirty dumpster
nouns prance off, disgusted
without elaboration or fancy descriptions
verbs take the lead,
kicking their adverbs to the curb
your nuances no longer welcome,
a mob mentality
seeking satisfaction in a brick alley
prepositions begin to arrive at the front
under the discarded boxes
searching through the rubble of the day
one climbs up the filthy trash heap
jumping into a pile of overused words
word play being what it is,
startling, laughing, loving gerunds arrive
carrying participles on their backs.
They cannot stop hitting, hurting and killing each other
Stop! Title yells. I want some kind of legacy.
I have no words to add, being mute and respectful of my elders
I am a mere homophone,
too consternated to know these two warring factions
well enough to take sides.
Young eager college –educated whiffet knows everything
Has already called the head of our department three times today
to give him some tips on how to run things more smoothly
She has all kinds of suggestions.
He was too busy to take her call the fourth time,
So she drafted a four page email.
Twelve talking points, showing him what improvements she expected.
Giving him a time line.
I was amazed as it is her first day on the job.
Her confidence is something to aspire to!
Whippersnapper told me goodbye an hour later
Confused as to why it was her last day on the job
He entered our work world a spinning dervish
Bringing the energy level from basement level to penthouse
At first it was terrific, but then we fell back in our ways.
I am at level six, many are at level two.
We are either repulsed or intrigued by this whippersnapper.
Some days I am both.
“Hi Grandma!”
The woman’s mouth clamped shut hard.
She was irritated beyond belief.
Who was this young arrogant brazen whippersnapper?
And why did he feel comfortable sitting on her bench?
“Hey Grandma!”
She glared at him, hating his clothes, his torn pants.
Especially hating his stupid looking haircut.
“Don’t you recognize him?”
She looked up at her daughter.
Then she looked back at her fifteen-year-old grandson Chad.
Chad was grinning with his goofy silly ‘I love you’ grin.
“How do you like my do?” He asked, showing her the back.
“I love it,” she lied, reaching to touch the spiky parts.
Her daughter laughed.
"Drowning Spectacularly in Deep Pools of Words"
“Would you like some soup?” she said
He was being spoon fed
Alphabet code while he sat in his wheelchair
“I’m a whippersnapper”, he said
“There, there,” she said
“Love is in here”, she said
Massaging his heart
the wounds disappeared
“I am a Poet”, he said
“You're Trouble with a capital "T"," she said
"The magic is in here”, she said
stroking both his temples
“hmmm, that feels good”, he said
“Your eyes are deep pools”, he said
“I see myself drowning in them”
“Danger’s your middle name,” she said
"I put a sedative and Scopolamine in your Soup,
your mind's been covertly read", she said
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
It's a seventeenth-century term for a young man
lazily wasting time nothing better to do than
to hang; used by an older person
who's talking about a young person
who behaves boldly despite being inexperienced man.
~X~X~X~
At some time you must have met one,
an academic gentleman.
Though once a whippersnapper,
he's cultured, suave and dapper,
That mustache of his so pert,
his eye for a pretty skirt.
and then his neat bow-tie
which makes the ladies sigh.
He has such a winning way.
He always says 'Good Day.'
They say his grading's fair,
and, these days, that's rare.
He has one nasty knack,
stabbing rivals in the back.
When he does someone wrong,
at least it's with aplomb.
Condemn his spite and bile?
Yes, but - oh. my - what style!
At some time you must have met one,
an academic gentleman.
Though once a whippersnapper,
he's cultured, suave and dapper,
That mustache of his so pert,
his eye for a pretty skirt.
and then his neat bow-tie
which makes the ladies sigh.
He has such a winning way.
He always says 'Good Day.'
They say his grading's fair,
and, these days, that's rare.
He has one nasty knack,
stabbing rivals in the back.
When he does someone wrong,
at least it's with aplomb.
Condemn his spite and bile?
Yes, but - oh. my - what style!
Whippet's in the wind
When greyhound
Gazed upon
Whippersnapper
Want to be
In the midday sun
Whistle of a woman
Calling canine back
Put him on the leash
Take doggy to the track
Flat cap Freddie motions
To signal his mut
Caught him by the collar
In the car he's shut