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Stanza One, Written 1982 pre-family

My pen just writes
My dog just bites
My wife just fights
And I just might
Decide everything’s alright.


Stanza Two, Written 2025 as empty nestet

Life didn’t quite yield that plight
Because the pen barely writes
The pups play fight
The kids had height
Were polite
And actually bright
The wife’s a delight
Most days and nights
My life might be trite,
And I’m good with this slight rewrite.
This literally is a two-part poem written 43 years apart.  Everything can be taken at face value.  In retrospect 'pen' could be a euphemism.  It is meant to be light and amusing
Krysta May 2018
When,

Silence is music to your eyes,
Stillness to your ears tastes just right.

When,

The tick of the clock jumps through the souls of your hearts feet,
All times beat at once.

When,

Done and to dos dance on your list
The cadence of the pen of life checks.

When,

Your feet lie and your tongue runs,
Eyes run round and toes blink across the ground.

When?
Sometimes it sounds like nonsense but it still feels right, so it goes right?
Jack Jul 2016
I wanna be baby bear
I want my gross porridge to be a reasonable edible temperature
I wanna be hot but not a scalding sun
And cold but just enough
I wanna be baby bear
I want my chair to be so comfortable that you break it into a million pieces
Because as soon as you perfectly fit
It can do nothing else but explode
I wanna be baby bear
Because then my bed would be so incredible that you're still in it

Not too hot
Not too cold
Not too big
Not too small
Not too hard
Not too soft
Or far too much
Or never enough

If only I could be just right
Bc then maybe
Just maybe
You'd pick me

As strange as it sounds,
I'd really like to be baby bear

That guy's really got a lot goin for him.
The Good Pussy Mar 2015
.
                                    N
                            o     o t       o
                         t         t o           t
                       T           o              T
                     o             C                 o
                    o               l                  o
                    C            o  s                C
                      l           e  N               l
                       o         o   t             o
                         s        T o           s
                            e       o         e
                                     D
                                      i
                                      s
                                      t
                                      a
                                      n
                                      t
*Jazmine Hughes,  opinion, New York Times

— The End —