Archive for February, 2016

new poem – When

by Job Conger

When people who you once knew as friends
are keeping their distance,
suggesting to you with their silence
that they regard you as a brother of pond scum;
who leeched into their lives
like lead poison from a water pipe,
who seem to regard you as a stranger
with a knack for pissing your thoughts
onto their clean clothes from church,
who you imagine talking about you just out of ear shot
the way they might talk about a three-legged  elephant
they saw at the municipal zoo.
Hold fast to your dreams!
Build your empire (if not your world) as you envision it
and in so doing, endeavor to bring
some sense of salvation and satisfaction
to yourself,
and mostly, just keep your effing mouth shut.
After all,
they might be right.

— written Monday, February 15, 2016 about 4:10 pm
Sometimes I believe that when I have anything important to say, I should say it in a poem. I’d probably write more poems if I did.  As things are now, I find it easier to follow my advice and just keep my effing thoughts to myself. This was an insight I also shared at Facebook yesterday afternoon, slightly revised here. The people whose friendships I cherish know who they are, so I’m not concerned about offending anyone with this poem.

Live long . . . . . . and proper.


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READERS — Please read parts one (Jingle All the Way) and two (Oh What Fun It Is To Ride) as well to appreciate and understand this nutty whimsy. When I sing or recite them in person, they follow each  other as 3 follows 2 and 2 follows  1.

In a One-Horse Open Sleigh
by  Job Conger

In a one-horse open sleigh,
As they snuggled to  beat the cold air,
They were holding hands as good  friends do,
And he hoped before the day was through,
She would be his lover fair
In  a one-horse open sleigh.

In a one-horse open sleigh
Gliding  under fir trees so green,
The polished off a bottle of Dom  Perignon
A quart of Bacardi Dark Amber Rum
And a pint of Grenadine
In a one-horse open sleigh

In a one-horse open sleigh
Happy hands began to roam.
She was determined to put the brute in his place
Hearts began to race as he tagged third base
And she waved him into home
In a one-horse open sleighIn a one-horse open sleighIn a one-horse open sleighIn a one-horse open sleigh.

In a one-horse open sleigh
At least Old Dobbin remembered the trail
Back to the  horse garage at the mountain lodge
Oh! the knowing smiles that they had do dodge
And the truth that doth prevail
In a one-horse open sleigh:

Love can make a special day,
Love can MAKE a special day,
Love can make a SPECIAL day,
In a one-horse,  a one-horse open sleigh!

The trilogy  came together pretty fast; almost wrote itself while I watched my right hand move on paper. I LIKE to write long hand, but I’m happy with a keyboard too. My  challenge is finding time to open up to receive words. I need a clear head. Booze is not my friend when I’m writing poetry and song. And I have no problem revising and revising until I get it right according to what I know of poetry and what I intend to do with the creation. I  am a LOUSY judge of poems by friends,  though I love to listen to friends read aloud their poems and share them with me via the printed page. I don’t know what makes a good poem, but I know what I like. I used to meet often with friends to talk poetry. I miss those days. Still, I enjoy writing poems  when I feel an angel tapping my consciousness on the shoulder and leading me into the next creation. There is always time when that happens.

Live long . . . . . . . . .  and proper.

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