"caddie" poems
took my caddie up the track
gun held to the black
hoods on for the clan attack
planned it in my ****** shack
****** I want my 20 dollars back
bullets stab you through your back
huge
machete to the sack
and something else through your back
****** I want my money back
back
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 7:23 PM UTC
I was strolling down the aisle
We were shopping there in style
With my daughter sitting smiling in the cart,
I was stretching out my hand
For the Martinelli's brand
When the apple of my eye gave me a start.
With the bottle in my grasp
I saw, coming toward us fast,
A high heeled damsel, scarfed and towing her caddie
And she smirked as I, condemned,
Stood up to comprehend
The reason, as my child said "Whisky Daddy?"
There was nothing I could say,
To make it seem another way,
To vanquish the conviction so compelling
It was the color you could tell
And the shape she knew so well,
The question that my daughter asked was telling.
Neil Stewart McLeod
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 12:40 PM UTC
Fourteen blue eyes
Seven happy faces
Five futures
Two pasts
One marriage
An airforce officer,
doctor,
business man,
golf caddie
and an unknown.
One happy family
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 1:57 PM UTC
April Seventh, 1928
Through the fence, between the curling flower spaces, I could see them hitting.
Luster searched the rough, amongst the grass, doing his own bidding.
"Here Caddie," a man shouted before he hit.
Images came back and I entered a fit.
Weeping and wailing I stood, a 33 year old male.
Soon to be reminded of being hooked on a nail.
My sister Caddy treated me well, though mother won't agree.
She thinks I'm pampered by the girl sneaking down a nearby tree.
Caddy ruined the family name.
Or so mother says, but I don't think she's to blame.
The girl lost her scent.
The Compson name is on the descent.
Caddy held me. She smelled like trees.
And not the kind that make one sneeze.
Maury was supposed to be my title.
My uncle's indiscretions made its worth idle.
So i was given something new to be called.
As Uncle Maury's and Mrs. Patterson's relationship stalled.
Miss Quentin picked up after her mother.
Looking absentmindedly for a wayward lover.
She sat next to a man with a red ascot on a swing after supper.
Luster wandered up and picked up something rubber.
...
I have no sense of how things occur.
My illness makes things easy to obscure.
The ticking of a broken watch beats on.
I, for ignoring such nonsense, have been deemed wrong.
Colliding events of different times.
Blurring together dateless lines.
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 1:13 PM UTC
My childhood ended when my dollhouse got repossessed,
crying in the back of Daddy’s Caddie.
You traded your daughter for diamonds
and left it all behind in a U-Haul.
You blamed his haunting city streets,
and post-war reenactment dreams.
You couldn’t be the queen to his beer can kingdom anymore.
He flipped too many coffee tables,
and let the kids grow up wrong,
and suddenly wasn’t the man you loved in high school.
He’s just another excuse,
But this isn’t about him,
This is about you,
All 534 miles of it.
You’re a woman without mirrors.
You play victim too well,
and love me like the favorite chip on your shoulder.
I gave your title to a deserving stranger,
and you flew from my human scent.
I never got to tell you about the splatter.
It’s hard to forgive someone who’s never at fault.
But this isn’t about us,
This is about you!
All 534 miles and counting!
This is about your life in 5 year chapters,
and sweeping your problems under the bible-belt.
This is about looking for happiness in the small town Carolinas,
and loving another man,
and another daughter,
and all the people you don’t owe apologies.
This is all about you,
And what you’ve done,
And you will never be more than this.
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
✿⊰✲⊱✿
"Remember," Ainhara says to the young maid,
"that towel is to be hand-washed only. Do it
with care as rose-silk is costly. Our reign queen
deserves the best but she is also frugal."
"Yes, my lady."
✿⊰✲⊱✿
As the maids leave, I walk out to my balcony,
curious of the sights beyond. Passing the small
seat and table, I take it all in. My Kingdom is
blessed by the softness of the evening sun,
from lands to sea, my high walls to the docks,
all is coated by an orange-gold glow.
"Would you like the Jasmine Pearls again,
Sweet Queen?"
✿⊰✲⊱✿
"No," I say, "I'll have the Dragon's Pu-erh
for the evening."
She nods, bows and leaves my chambers.
So much done, yet so much to be done, still.
"The crown is light, but the burden is heavy,"
I remind myself as the warm zephyrs blow.
The seas look so calm, as do the docked
argosies. The walls so tall, so proud, so
new. I am proud and happy for it all
standing, I welcome both old and new.
Even though there are time I do not know
what to do.
✿⊰✲⊱✿
'Let me relax...' I turn around. The seats are a
mix of obsidian and bronze with filigree
style moulding that make the back of the
seat; the same with the small table with a
vase of lilies. Upon the seat's lap, a round
seat-cushion on which I gently sit.
My mind seems to run amok with
thoughts so I close my eyes and let
the sounds calm and distract me.
✿⊰✲⊱✿
The calm seas, the bird's songs, the gentle
bustling of life below, the flapping flags
above, the heavy steps of patrolling guards
on the walls, the neighing of horses, the wind
blowing, the leaves rustling and now the
opening of my chamber door and light
footsteps - ever so familiar.
✿⊰✲⊱✿
As I open my eyes, Ainhana is by my side with
a silver tray of hot water, my tea-cups and foil-
wrapped Pu-erh Pearls in a tea caddie.
"And so Aurelinaea's Phoenix will will drink
from the Dragon's fermented Pearl Moon!"
"Indeed." She places the tea on the table.
I pat the seat next to me and she graciously
sits down and I peel the foil from the Pearls;
seaweed green, yellow streaks with hints
of burnt umber.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 4:10 AM UTC
Before the world calls again
We must make amends with the wind
Look not towards, turn around
Learn to challenge your mound
The world is erupting in earnest
Pearls rim the bulletproof vests
Another bay of mammals
Stripped of their enamel
Watchful eye, clockmaker
***** hands on blood bakers
Stagnant relics of the past
Wailing worms on salted masts
Crowded church, bullet tears
Limping for the flaking fears
Mountains bring a gilded path
For the saints, a shallow bath
Handcuffed legs, boarded hands
Folded on a calm command
Rotting hope, livid arms
For the magnate, no alarm
Bracket helm, grainy green
Swords are drawn on gabardines
No God will eat a tear
And dead they flow, winded pier
Dead they crow, winded pier
Billowed fire, riverside
Cower under thickened hides
Excess arms upon the dock
Sandinista on the rock
Triggers sold in tragedy
Lilting light, youth will cease
Leaders sleep in padded wells
Suffer mother, drink from hell
Here’s the hero, banner flown
Ruby paper, nature grown
Skeptic in the eye of rhye
Naked comics sing to die
The site is exiled from the shore
Stricken by a fiery pore
Steel-laced curtains, hesitance
Infidels in happenstance
Here is fortune, there lays war
I have sold a solid car
Husband creaks, mother moans
Children bred to take a bone
With a blonded, slanted eye
Astronauts will learn to fly
All the while, a preacher seeks
A pinstriped caddie and a freak
I am born and I am weak
Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 10:51 AM UTC
Dear Donald, I have to say
How much I love our private jokes,
Especially the one that we
Both have called the Russian hoax.
You have learned a lot from me.
Fortunately, you're on my team.
All the power that I have
For you, however, is just a dream.
But keep up your strategy
Of duping the public. True, you'll find
You cannot fool everyone.
But there's one thing to bear in mind:
The more you condemn your nasty critics
And put the critical press on trial,
The more power you'll have. Can you--
While reading this-- see me smile?
The 2020 election will be
Very important. We can thwart
Your Democratic opponent, so
Let me know if you need support.
If you say a cloud has been lifted,
Then I think we both agree
That if you lift some sanctions, you'll
Lift the cloud that's over me.
I like how your trust in me
Overshadows the trust in your own
Experts there. For more advice,
Call me on the telephone.
By the way, I have to say,
I'm still counting every hour
Till I can have my penthouse view
From high atop your Moscow tower.
I'll support you, by the way,
But don't ask me to be your caddie.
I can dig up dirt on any-
One you want. Your friend, Vladdy.
-by Bob B (5-7-19)
May 7, 2019
May 7, 2019 at 9:20 AM UTC
T'was the day before aluminum.
And all through the towns
Steel fantasies did roam,
All finny at thousands of pounds.
Lots of metal, heavy and sculpted.
No custom kits, just regular Detroit iron,
The Mesabi Iron Range leveled and scalped.
Fins, I say, fin, fins and finny.
You could stab yourself on a '57 Chevie!
Sleek, but massive,
Caddie fins with bullet tail lights
Rare Edsels and Packards
Thunderbirds, killer headlights to match the fins
Remember the Rambler!
Knife edges everywhere, the Studebaker Fury
Corvettes, vruum, vruum, VRUUUM.
Beloved Impalas, Rocket 88's,
Imperials and Mark III Continentals
Where did we go in these steel confections...
Drive-ins, both food and movie,
Down Main Street to be seen,
Back to be seen again, groovy
We had pimples and ducktails,
hoping to meet girls,
but the cars had fins of steel!
And they were the magnets.
Oct 12, 2022
Oct 12, 2022 at 12:53 PM UTC