Wrestlemania

Greasy bodies shine;
They swing like muscled puppets
in spandex, divine

The Gift Wrapper

It takes some of your time
to judge who among us,
aspiring beauty queens,
stand-out.

Then – you pick me as the winner,
choose the crown that suits me,
a sash of tiara’s hue,
and a plaque that bears your name.

Too soon, my reign’s over
those accolades are set aside,
not by my successor,
but by eager hands
enthusiastic to know what
surprise I bring forth.

Let's see, I haven't seen one for crabs yet sooooooo......

Crabs

Crabs will come and crabs will go
all I know is they itch me so
now I've got to shave it bare
before they spread up my derriere




[This message has been edited by cookala (edited February 17, 2003).]

This is truly a great poem.

Well, since crabs are already taken....

BABY TALK

What syllables are these?
I watch the pudgy little shapes of words

emerge from my brother's mouth.
A sentence ago he spoke

of calculus, the diminishment of x and y
as they approached infinity.

Now the burblings of a madman
dribble from his lips. They infiltrate the room

like a smell. Soon others join in
and I am surrounded by nonsense,

sounds flowering like a cloud of talcum.
And she in her crib with soft blue swaddling.

I think of poetic sentiments
twisted into jewelry,

of phrases and heights sublime, of emotions
beaten featureless, honed into a thin sharp edge

and polished. Yet even they can't emulate
the delight in this child's eyes.