Details |
Jessie Howell Poem
I love my Mousey,
She lives in a field in BrushCreek, Tennessee,
Walking with her her of cattle,
As happy as she will ever be.
Without this there would be only she,
And i could make her as happy as me,
I miss her immensly, for thee i wish well,
For everyday i wish she wont sell,
And I could show her in the Dekalb County Fair,
I would sell never an ounce of her.
Hehe not even one of her little white hairs.
Even when all the way over there,
Mine she is for no one but me to share, if I do so happen to dare.
Cute as a button,
A button her nose may well be,
Where I first touched her sweet little body,
Not once but twice sweetly,
For wherever she goes I could spot her, along with her sister and mother.
Many a mile away, for she is not at all,
Not at all what you would say a little grayish thing.
But a heifer who grows daily,
Only to shove the motherly tears away.
In my eyes though, she will always be, forever and always, my baby girl, my sweetie,
my beautiful girl, my Mousey
Copyright © Jessie Howell | Year Posted 2010
|
Details |
Jessie Howell Poem
Makeup on, tears stream down
Walking alone staring up at the stars downtown,
The words can not be unsaid, can not be unheard, they’re already out.
Open to suggestions she leaves the abs off and a loaded gun in the seat,
Useless, stupid, selfish; among the slightest of many stings,
Shouldn’t be used to these kind of horrid things,
But here we are, sitting in our depressive funk, ready to lose everything.
Lips supposed to love, hands supposed to hold,
Turned against everything we’ve been taught and told,
Bruised are seen, welts are felt, no longer the tales of the old.
Waiting for the end, fighting off death,
No matter what you do nothing changes, waiting for the wrath,
You take your final breathe,
Was it worth it?
Copyright © Jessie Howell | Year Posted 2021
|