To Be A Man
Of being a man, I have no idea!
With their parts dangling about easy to display
though their heart tucked so far away, seemingly hare to reach
Consumed with providing and achievement of ego pursuits
But seemingly needing still some gentle suckling of a new buck
Libidos that go on and on like a binary code
yet a dog is their best friend
Fishing and golfing and sports to soothe the combative beast
Though if I were to conjecture with a woman they’d rather be captivated
I have no idea what it is to be man
but it looks a though it could injurious or transcendent
Of the particular man I suppose that is dependant
poem by Sandra Dodd
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Frogiven (no thats not a typo)
Not quite a Prince Charming
with your propensity to stick
the glass slipper
in your little green mouth
But alas if when I kiss you
you do not turn to my prince.
I guess I will have to love
an adorable frog that
occasionally acts as a toad
As many times as I kiss
your adorable green face
your still my adorable frog.
A prince of one indeed
but green and bumpy all the same.
Leaping through most days
sometimes you miss the lillypad
Splat you submerge
only'to swim up again.
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poem by Sandra Dodd
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Yellow Overall Exceptionally Positive, With A Few Exceptions
Yellow
It is said to be the sunny color,
but the sun is really so much more
When I think yellow
Coward comes to mind, sometimes even Congress
lovely home all painted warm with white shutters
a brides maid dress made to make the bride look best
the perfect cheap mustard
lemon fresh in the liquid aide or sitting on the counter
light bulb burning brightly
a jaundiced baby
orange juice which is funny cause usually its not orange at all
lines between the opposite sides if the road
tassel from graduation
sponges made for cleaning up all the spills
when your sick there are always little yellow pills
So many things are just so bright
without explanation I see that they
might need to be made apparent with
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poem by Sandra Dodd
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Flirtatious
flirting
what can it injure?
its a no contact sport
eyes only caress
the tongue gives to the Id
a vague silver finesse
subtle body language
but no wrought intentions
perhaps an almost
racy double entendre
a strangely place intonation
possibly a phrase that
could be taken either way
these are common
to both sexes
a woman
has her ways
to frustrate
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poem by Sandra Dodd
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How Bird and Frog Finish Up
All was fine in the forest.
Sun beams glistening
through the trees
Stillness all around,
everything as it should be.
Lonely in his pond frog had
resigned to never being loved.
He saw the deers
going about in pairs
Even raccoons had families,
females by the scores
But nair a frogess anywhere
would respond
to the most practiced ribbit.
I guess as frogs go
he was much a horny toad.
So he sat alone
in his tepid mossy pond.
On an average morn
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poem by Sandra Dodd
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My Joy You Cannot Squish
My Joy You Cannot Squish
I am a joyful being, some say I have too much of it
I love a smile, a joke, a gag, smirk of irony,
the ache of a well laughed tummy
Chuckle as I go to and fro down life roads
singing Zippity Doo Dah, some halleluiahs
I chortle with the crows, I don’t care who knows
Laugh to yourself if you wish
My joy you cannot squish
A few Ebenezer’s have tried
On the rubble pile of former contacts they dwell
Joy is something to embrace no matter the consequence
On and on joy goes from trail to trail with me
For to quit joy would hold amiss a notion that
Eeyore was the leader or the band,
ridiculous we all know that was Tigger
with his joyous bounce and exuberance!
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poem by Sandra Dodd
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Monster Presiding Dreams, Not My Wake. There I Drove Him With A Stake
I lay there wrapped
in very bushy arms
Whispers ‘sleep now
I am here’
With the warmth
washing of this love,
I drift to a place
that is unknown
I see at play our children
Flowers fit for
a wedding day
perhaps I am skinny
having wine with a friend
flying a magic carpet
or riding an elephant
Sleep should be
a place of contentment
The mind at rest
body free and light
spirit drifts to where
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poem by Sandra Dodd
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Winter Born and Live
Some people enter the world
to indigo skies,
the sun beams
on their blessed souls
season after season.
Never a day of
storms or showers form,
in their world
there are no winters.
Their grin comes
without expense,
their soul
without pause flourishes.
Groundhog never appears
to see his shadow,
for spring is
constantly assured.
Nothing did they do
to improve or disparage
their springtime birth.
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poem by Sandra Dodd
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