Category Archives: original poetry/ light verse

Other Lives of ’89: A Trilogy of Verse.

August 22, 1989

(* the date of origination is August 22, 1989; the soundfile indicates October. Did I look at 8/22/89, and think “Eight means October?” [derisive laughter.] )

Molly had babies one by one

extensions of herself

each year a repeat pumpkin smile

found its place on the mantel shelf

Time for birth and time to grow

day by night by day

Who can know where a mother will go

when all her work is done?

.

[Chorus:]  “Hey!”

.

Karlie took tap when she was five

and six and seven and eight

Karate at three, for the weekday fee

Carpool to the four o-clock skate

Two weeks of camp and the the family trip

and a picnic with the sailing class

but, piano lessons were cancelled

when the teacher ran out of gas

.

[Chorus:] “Ohhh…”

.

John made his pay

by the rules laid down

at the Savings and Loan institution

He carefully stowed

another man’s load

and lived on the remuneration

.

At the end of the day

on his way uptown

to the Food and Spirits emporium

another man’s load

was the money he owed

now he visits the state sanitorium.

.

.

[Oak Ridge Boys:]   “Hmmmmm.”

.

.

© Ruth Ann Scanzillo

8/22/89

all rights. Thanks.

littlebarefeetblog.com

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Happy Birthday, Dear.

Because my lunch is eaten

and there’s so much else to do

I’d rather sit and write

and pen a pithy note to you

. . . .

I will be neither goofy

nor quirky nor swarthy nor fine

I’ll say just what I must today

After you read this line

. . . .

(You said you cannot hear me? oh,

my thoughts are in between

the trite and quite superfluous

and silly stuff you’ve seen)

. . . .

So far, in our “relationship”

psychology would psay

we’ve psaid enough to fill the book

and lived another day

. . . .

Without the need to rectify

or double-back or take

a single touch or word

in some apology to make

. . . .

Because it’s what we have to be

that no one can control

that no one else can make or take

all nurtured by the soul

. . . .

We do and be according to

our wants and needs, how true

but who we are we have to be

not shade nor tint, but hue

. . . .

I want to love you, part or whole

but as you are, yourself

you bring to life just who you are

and, I will bring myself.

.

.

.

.

© Ruth Ann Scanzillo

5/92; modified 11/30/14

all rights reserved. Thank you, again.

Halitosia.

August 11, 1994

her neck was smoothe

and long below

the piquant chin

when she smiled and oh!

the depth in her eyes was ever so

but she had bad breath

and she did not know

. . . .

nobody knew

how deep the well

her passion sin

could never quell

yes, she would lure him from his shell

but her breath smelled

bad

and she couldn’t tell

. . . .

“Too many nights

I’ve waited for you

Will you light my flame?

Is your arrow true?”

her cheek was hot

in his ear, her coo:

“…take my breath away…”

but she hadn’t a clue.

. . . .

Now, love is blind

and, ignorance bliss

swish, gargle, or floss

but, the point is this:

she sometimes thinks

of the nights she missed

when her husband tells her

in the middle of a kiss

……………….

……..

.

.

.

© Ruth Ann Scanzillo

8/11/94

all rights reserved. Grazi.