The Poetry Patch
Why, Oh Why...?
Why did a chicken try
to tar and feather me?
Did he not realize
the harsh reality?
Whose feathers would he use?
(And whose the penalty?)
Why did the Billy Goats
have to be so gruff?
Didn't they (like Government)
know taxing's easy stuff?
Who's going to choose the road
that's free but really rough?
Why did the Princess let
a simple little pea
keep her awake all night?
Couldn't portly she
mash it down and take the crown --
a sleeping beauty be?
And why, little Little Ant,
why must you be
right there now, in harm's way --
unafraid of me?
BRING IT ON!
Let freedom ring
like tinnitus
all night long
in both ears,
Georgie Boy,
let it gong, let it bong --
bring it on! Freedom wins.
War, be gone. War, be gone!
Let freedom wring --
terror's neck isn't strong.
But it won't
mean a thing
'til we all sing along:
War, be gone. War, be gone.
Who Can Rue What (Gasp!) is True?
Ingrates! Complainers!
All those who won't forgive!
The dying have the firmer grasp
of what it takes to live.
Braggarts! Egotists!
All those who have no shame!
The dying have the firmer grasp
of who should take the blame.
Beggars! And Choosers!
All those who think God owes...
The dying have the firmer grasp,
as even Satan knows.
Doubters! Deniers!
All those who scorn the meek:
Your chance, unbid, will one day come
to turn the other cheek.
RHYME TIME
High moon emotion,
flustered devotion.
I fumble.
Stars tumble.
Love spoken,
I crumble.
WHAT COMES NEXT?
Waiting for shallower feelings to flame,
frenzied, we fancy the heart of the fire.
Love scars
maim only desire.
FOR YOU, I
Eat words, spit out good-byes.
Kiss emptiness, welcome it home reluctantly.
Whisper missing promises,
Hear their echoes.
Hug silence, turn away.
Look back once more
And turn into a pillar
of salty tears.
SURVIVAL
Pray for easy prey.
Life is sustained with handouts.
Mere morsels nourish.
GENESIS
In the beginning,
God swirled clouds in the heavens--
bold strokes, moonlit wit.
THE INVITATION
In Eden's garden,
sweet perfume is petaled, pink--
laced with cool, green shade.
KAUAI
Rise above the tides,
precious shoreline laced with foam--
island far from home.
SOME TRANSPLANTS CAN'T BE UPROOTED
"I wasn't born in Texas,
but got here as quick as I could."
(That sticker's as stuck to some bumpers
as cacti that could be sure would.)
We got here by vows spoken elsewhere.
("Up North," if the truth must be told.)
Bull-headed, we Michigan transplants
sought ways to come in from the cold.
We'd tried livin' life with the Okies
before we moved South, but y'know --
when Oil and Gas beckon "Houston,"
Poor Folk gotta go with the flow!
Enamored we are with the landscape.
(Left Houston for Austin one day.)
True Texans "Drive Friendly" by waving.
We've reckoned they want us to stay.
| DRESS
REVERSAL "Mom, will you make me a dress?" I pled. Mom wasn't keen on sewing. "Let's go to a bridal shop instead...." The next thing I was knowing, I ended up decked out like this -- it seemed a hefty price to pay for well-dressed wedding bliss. I only wore it twice. The first was for this portrait, dear. (Good grief, what were you thinking?) The second time, I said "I do," and dampened eyes were blinking! |
 |
WATERMELON WEIGHS TOO MUCH ON MY MIND
Succulent, sweet
red watermelon meat--
I nibble it, dribble it
down to the rind.
Oh, hot summer night!
I indulge, bulge,
delight
in a savory snack
that I really don't mind.
Such a sweltering plight!
I could slurp through the night
were it not for the truth
I would find
mirrored plaintively there
in the melon-shaped pear
that's become my mid-section's design!
Juicy fruit, I'm astute--
you should be smaller fruit,
less temptation, less sugar to grind.
But let's face it, you're not.
Put me in a tight spot.
I'll just thank God
with tact for the merciful fact
that I don't have
a firefly's glowing behind!
To see other poems already plucked from The Poetry Patch, Click Here.
By Nancy L. Fierstien
Copyright 2003