"parton" poems
A Finn-Dorset clone,
Now not the alone.
Born on 5 July in 1996,
She died on Valentine's Day in 2003.
The celebrity sheep she died at the age of six,
Produced not from the common ovine ***
Somatic Cell Nuclear Transfer created her, read on.
Named after Dolly Parton,
'Coz of her admired *****
Somatic cells were taken from a sheep's udders,
Extracted not without the sheep's jitters.
This sheep was the donor.
However, these cells were enucleated,
And the enucleated nucleus was handled.
Injected it was into a Finn-Dorset's embryo,
Oh yes, the embryo was without a nucleus.
This sheep was the recipient.
Without a folly, born was Dolly,
Resemble she did the donor.
Not only in its visible phenotype
But also in its invisible genotype.
Differ she did but only in her mitochondrial DNA.
Her birth did open a new portal,
Now pet lovers get their pets cloned.
Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 11:16 AM UTC
Mischa Barton
Was given a headstart
On Dolly Parton
In a sackrace
And Won.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 9:32 AM UTC
One day my young niece was showing me some photos of herself and her
friends on her phone
She had loads and loads of these photos
I was thinking to myself I don't think anyone's taken a photo of me in forty
years,
Then I thought what'd happen if I got famous and someone wanted to write
my biography (would be a short book)
And they'd say Give us some of your old photos to stick in the Book
And of course, I'd have a problem, I'd have no photos to give them,
Then I remembered there was this Novelty Joke shop in town
They had a great collection of all these different kinds of wigs
I thought maybe I could buy a few wigs then stage a few photos
Pretend they were from earlier days,
Yea, I could get an Elvis wig with the sideburns, I could say that was my
Rockabilly stage
Then I could get a big Long Hair wig and say That was my Hard Rock
phase,
I could get a Mohican wig and say Well that was what I looked like when I
was a Punk Rocker
And Hey! Maybe I could get one of those lovely big blonde Dolly
Parton type wigs
I could say
"Well that Summer I was listening to a lot of Country music".
Mar 15, 2023
Mar 15, 2023 at 12:49 PM UTC
*Cossack Cowboys
Riding Llamas
That they dress
In pink pajamas
Teeny boppers
Blowing bubbles
Biker chicks
Causing trouble
Nuns in Habits
Punks in chains
One or two
Of the deranged
Rubbing Buddha belly
Cravers
And the band
Harvey Danger
David Bowie
Elton John
Both of them
With Spacesuits on
Vegetarians
Eating chicken
Love it fried
Finger licking
In a line to
Meet and greet Obama
Now I wish
I'd brought my Mama
On the T.V.
Slicing, Dicing
Infomercials
Are enlightening
Lindsey Lohan
There's more trouble
Send the Police
On the double
Michael Jackson
With his monkey
Chandelier
Swinging junkies
Bottle Rocket
Ridding crickets
Dolly Parton
Doing dishes
Tubs of Crisco
Set for wrestling
Bee Gees do be
Disco dancing
With Bruce Jenner
Wearing makeup
Dolly's kitchen
Filled with soap suds
Rubber band
Bumper babies
Call me odd
Don't call me crazy
Shooting stars
Carry Uzis
Washed up stars
Drink beer in Koozies
Donnie Osmond
Singing show tunes
As Marie blows
Animal balloons
Circus Barkers
And their Minions
Waylon left us
Shooter Jennings
Heidi Klum
Without makeup
To say the least
She looks a bit rough
American flags
As rainbow banners
Peal, scratch, and sniff
Talking bananas
Hookha smoking
Manatees
Oh yea...
and then there's me
These are just a few of the things that lean
On the lamp post of my dreams*
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 1:50 PM UTC
Dolly Parton: bright as waters
cleft before the Israelites
may your matrons, sons, and daughters,
bluegrass saints and satellites
crown our country, brim our fountains
long as your lyrical honor reaches
from the Appalachian mountains
to that land the Bible preaches.
Hear our thanks for all your singing
all the years of Faith and Glory
lifting up the Lord – then stinging
like a psalm (imprecatory).
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 8:53 PM UTC
I listen to male artists,
Men who remind me of my father,
And his pain,
And my pain.
I imagine they sing to me,
Protect me,
Love me,
Give me all I've never been given before,
Everything I was supposed to feel,
Everything that was supposed to show me how people work.
I listen to deep, strained voices and reflect,
Connect to things I’ll never experience.
Men are angry,
Worthy of their feelings,
Allowed to unleash their rage in screams and electric guitars and unnecessarily loud drum solos.
I listen to music sung by men,
But I also listen to Stevie Nicks,
Joni Mitchell,
Janis Joplin,
Joan Baez,
Even Dolly Parton.
Hell, even Olivia Rodrigo.
I listen to women who are angry,
Angry and still women,
Surviving through agony and still women,
“Leather and lace,”
Black clothes and black makeup,
Singing about beauty and moonlight and darkness,
Female rage.
I don't have to be at peace to be a woman,
I don't have to be happy to be a woman,
I don't have to be pretty to be a woman,
You don’t have to like me for me to still be a woman.
Let me be angry,
Let me feel pain,
Let me be lost,
Let me like the darkness,
Let me find comfort in the night,
Let me chase impossible dreams and impossible feelings,
Let me feel everything I feel.
Women are put in a box of emotions,
Too sensitive,
Too dramatic,
Too simple.
I am not sensitive or dramatic or simple,
Don't put me in that box,
Don’t tell me what I am,
Don’t tell me how to feel,
Don’t tell me what my feelings mean,
What they make me,
Don’t project your weakness onto me,
I am not weak,
I am not weak,
I am not weak.
Let me be raw and witchy and honest,
Let me be intelligent and intuitive,
Let me see more than you'll ever see in the world,
Let me be frustrated and misunderstood and just a little too loud,
Let me be a woman,
Let me be me the way I should be.
Feb 11, 2024
Feb 11, 2024 at 3:42 PM UTC
in the arms of a stranger, it's so long to 'how long,'
the ending-writ being composed in the arms of a stranger,
the surprise, the uncomplicated simplicity of a "yes, why not"
the normalcy of the out of the ordinary has a finery that's
abnormally kind in a peculiar way & a comfortable shiny finish of a cry and a 'whew,' a laugh, a pause, a kiss on the nose,
that's familiar from a who knows me, who knows where, a silence,
a kindness to pass the collection plate of stored memory genes now
kickstarted hot and then a transition to the here and now of
hysterically funny bad jokes, a beer and a wine, and a Samuel Barber adagio that seals some of the open wounds and one can't stop thinking, thank god for the little things, the big ones never get resolved anyway, so the arms of a stranger, the long neck, tan shoulders, the eyes culling a list of unasked questions, looking for the crease in the pauses and an entry point to the decision of crossing the river of no return from the security of being strangers, whose bodies sang a two part harmony coming to a closing, last call from the barkeep lady tossing you your pants with an
awshit and the widest Mississippi River grin you've ever seen
and she asks do you like steak and laughs when the response is "with extra sizzle and Heinz ketchup" and the answer means the other questions will keep, at least for now and until
the violin weeping of a chest breathing hard but slow on the device
has played thrice, and the arms of easy are now fraught with the scent of risk, when the next the line is crossed with a followup of
"fries or baked potato?"
and it's too late, the memory machine has started recording and what is truly strange is that you can't recall what the day of the week tomorrow will be and if you have any plans that must be kept and that doesn't seem to be of any concern of anybody in the immediate vicinity of the her who's unconsciously humming the wholly appropriate, interesting choice, best love song, that Dolly Parton ever wrote^
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 5:51 PM UTC
heaven calls
my name but i'm a hard-headed man who
turns soft at night
heaven knows
it ain't what you got it's the way you shake it
heaven says
keep your hands where i can feel them
heaven is waiting
outside the gas station
in cut-off denim shorts
on our way into the mountains
over dolly parton bridge
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 1:52 PM UTC
“jolene, jolene, jolene, jolene…”
dolly parton belted away
i sped past a field
another field
horses whipped their tails in a fury
i sung along,
“jolene, jolene, jolene, jolene…”
the sky was menacing
and finally opened up,
cried onto my windshield
my wipers worked double time
a sticky kind of rain,
where the air is so warm and humid
that it feels like a fleece blanket;
the best kind of rain
i pulled onto the shoulder
and danced up and down the yellow lines
because that’s just what you do
in this kind of rain
“jolene, jolene, jolene, jolene…”
dolly parton serenaded me
as i put on a show
for lazy cows and wayward dogs
and i screamed along with the song
*“you could have your choice of men
but i could never love again
he’s the only one for me, jolene”*
the rain and my dancing
became an entangled, erratic mess
as i pulled away, wet and cold,
i ejected the CD that he made for me,
threw it out the window
and ran it over
three times, for good measure
i ******* hate jolene
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 3:29 AM UTC
The broncos won and I'm still at a dead end job
Didn't even watch the game, I was washing trash cans.
Heard about it through social media
About all the different things lady gaga looked like when she sang the national anthem.
Heatmiser, pizza rolls, dolly parton
Because one time dolly parton wore a red suit.
Which i thought was kind of a stretch
But i've read stupider things on the internet so i let it slide
I saw a commercial saying that tons of babies are born 9 months after the super bowl.
You know what else is right around that time in February?
Valentine's day
I don't think i've ever been less **** than during the super bowl.
Nobody looks at their man covered in nacho grease and beer stains and goes
"Oh yeah!" Its baby making time!
My girlfriend is in Florida working for Disney right now.
Thy have her doing laundry in a musty basement with middle aged Mexican woman.
It's apparently awful.
Ruins the magic she says.
Seeing cinderella scurrying around half naked doing her make up.
Wig cap and undergarments
Snow white with her nose up asking for kombucha.
Won't even make eye contact with the laundry vets.
Let alone my intern girlfriend.
I asked how the magic wasn't ruined before that.
After watching the play hairspray when they yell cut and
All the actors go back to their miserable lives, i figured it out pretty young.
This middle class manifesto
Where making 15 dollars an hour is a goal.
But she is the faithful type.
Loves her a good hoping.
That's why she hasn't cut me loose anyway.
She says she needs me around because i'm a taurus.
I have no idea what she means by that.
But i love hearing stories about mexican woman yelling in spanish at their iphone screens. And half naked princesses doing their makeup in hair nets. And her still believing in magic. I think it says a lot about her.
She gives me something to dream about while I wash these trash cans.
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 3:43 PM UTC
In sparkles and butterflies she's coming to grace the stage,
it's said,
astonished to be made aware,
the stage at Glastonbury 2014,
is to share,
Dolly Parton and her bits,
diamante maybe dressing her ****
the queen of country,
along with Debbie Harry,
what a strange combination,
let us all pray,
that Glastonbury doesn't drown this year,
I fear perhaps it will!
(C) Livvi
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 3:49 AM UTC
Say, Elvis, say south.
Say, Little Richard, say south.
Say, Jerry Lee Lewis, say south.
Say, BB King, say south.
Say, David and Jimmy, Ruffin says south.
Heck most of the Classic Five was southern born.
The message is within the history of these southern born artists.
Where all mention above is still highly praised?
Alabama, Georgia, and Kentucky too created a feeling still bringing news.
Wilson Picket aka the Wicked one.
Jame Brown and Jean Terrell heritage are within the southern region.
If you don't know nothing comes from the south without gaining your attention.
Did I mention Dolly Parton"
Conway Twitty aka Harold Jenkins and Porter Waggoner.
Something within the spiritual birth.
Check the history of Chess Records blues artist.
By the way even Berry Gordy.
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 10:42 PM UTC
Words are both angels and devils
they set my mind on the divine
capture the beauty of Earth
from the budding pear tree across the way
then back here to this room where
words become my servants and masters.
Spring teems green.
Bluebonnets blanket Texas hills
yet I cannot find words for
their delicacy and glory,
nor how these tiny miracles make me feel.
How do I capture the incredible life
coursing through stems, leaves and blooms?
Yet without words no sacred volumes
to guide us
no Rumi, Dickens and Austen on shelves
no Dylan, Jay-Z, Lennon, or Parton in our ears
no Case, Willow, Khoi, Pradip sparkling in our eyes.
Yes demons fly in them
but words capsulize the depth, breadth, and passion
of the human soul
I bow to these small human creations
and how they speak the universe.
Apr 11, 2022
Apr 11, 2022 at 11:36 PM UTC
Think About Love / Dolly Parton
I can't forget you
Ever since the moment that I met you
You've been on my mind
And I need to somehow let you know
That I think about you all the time
So when you think about love, think about me
I can give you more than you'll ever need
Sooner or later every heart needs some company
When you think about love, think about me
When you think about love, think about me
We were strangers
Now I'm already wrapped around your finger
Oh what's a heart to do
'Cause it lingers
And the thought of you
Wantin' me as much as I want you
So when you think about love, think about me
I can give you more than you'll ever need
Sooner or later every heart needs some company
When you think about love, think about me
When you think about love, think about me
Makes me blue
I'm not holding you tonight
'Cause only you can satisfy
This heart of mine
So when you think about love, think about me
I can give you more than you'll ever need
Sooner or later every heart needs some company
When you think about love, think about me
When you think about love, think about me
Jul 22, 2020
Jul 22, 2020 at 8:32 PM UTC
Dolly Parton wails out the radio of a car stopped in the street
out of sight it revs away
taking the singing Dolly with it
and I realise its the first human voice I heard all day
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 8:06 AM UTC
Poetry is magic
Suicide is tragic
Dolly Parton's face is plastic
Poetry is magic
Dec 27, 2020
Dec 27, 2020 at 1:09 PM UTC
let it rest.
Let the chickadee
fly the nest.
When it’s over
don’t resurrect.
As a mirror
just reflect.
When it’s over
don’t protest.
Don’t stick out like
Dolly Parton’s *******
Mar 18, 2022
Mar 18, 2022 at 6:46 AM UTC
It was the day after
I’d been to London
on a protest march
and Netanya said
I want you
to come
to my place
this afternoon
as I want to talk to you
my husband will be out
I was hesitant
not out
of any moral quandary
or in case
her husband found out
or that her kids
might come home
from school early
but because
I usually liked
to chill out
in the afternoon's
with a glass of scotch
and listen to Mahler
but I said
ok what time?
any time after 1pm
he's gone by then
she said
so forsaking
my scotch and Mahler
I walked around
to her place
and she let me
into her lounge
and offered me
tea or coffee
I took the coffee
and we sat on her sofa
and she talked
and I listened
then she took hold
of my pecker
and said
we could have ***
no one is here
no one need know
my pecker woke
from its slumbers
reluctantly
and lay
like a grumpy sailor
after a long voyage
not just now
I said
it wouldn't be right
besides daylight
isn't my best time
she looked at me
with her disappointed eyes
her hand
still holding the pecker
why not?
she said
what if your old guy
comes in
and we're going it some?
he won't
he never
comes home early
too keen on the skirts
at work
what if your kids
come home from school
and find me and you
in the process?
we'll be done by then
she said
I shook my head
and she went
to the record player
and put on
a Dolly Parton LP
and sat beside me again
my pecker still lay
slumped unhappily
another time maybe?
she said
sure
I said
only not here
not in your house
or bed
it doesn't seem right
she pulled
a face of discontent
where then?
your place?
no way
my mother
wouldn't like it
I said
where then?
Netanya said
London?
I said
London?
she repeated
go to London for ***
we can take in a show
and find a cheap hotel
and tell your old man
you're going to London
with a friend
to see some show
and it will give you cover
she sighed
and sipped her coffee
I sipped mine too and gazed
at this middle-aged lover.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 1:06 AM UTC
Why'd you come in here lookin' like that
In your cowboy boots and your painted on jeans
All decked out like a cowgirl's dream
Why'd you come in here looking like that
Here comes my baby
Draggin' my heart behind
He's drivin' me crazy
Who says love is blind
He's got a wanderin' eye and a travelin' mind
Big ideas and a little behind
Out with a different woman every night
But I remember when he was mine
Why'd you come in here lookin' like that
In your high heel boots and your painted on jeans
All decked out like a cowgirl's dream
Waltzing right in here lookin' like that
Why'd you come in here lookin' like that
When you could stop traffic in a gunny sack
Why you're almost givin' me a heart attack
When you waltz right in here lookin' like that
I just can't stand it
To see him on the town
He's out slow dancing
With every girl around
I'm a softhearted woman he's a hardheaded man
And he's gonna make me feel just as bad as he can
He's got himself a mean streak a half a mile wide
Now he's dancing on this heart of mine
Ooh, Why'd you come in here lookin' like that
In your high heel boots and your painted on jeans
All decked out like a cowgirl's dream
Why'd you come in here lookin' like that
Why'd you come in here lookin' like that
In your cowboy boots and your painted on jeans
All decked out like a cowgirl's dream
Why'd you come in here lookin' like that
Aug 25, 2023
Aug 25, 2023 at 6:32 PM UTC