Quotes about peg, page 7
Dementia
My mother forgot how to swallow.
Before that, she lost my face and my name,
erased from her memory by sickness and age.
Her nurses complained she took too long to feed
They wanted a peg and a tube for the deed
My mother forgot how to swallow
She forgot her late spouse, disremembered her vow.
With the loss of the past there is no here and now.
Once she read to my child, then my girl read to her-
Until all the sounds were a meaningless blur
My mother forgot how to swallow
Jesus and Mary and her patron saint
would loved to have helped her, so weak and so faint,
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poem by John F. McCullagh
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Mary O
She went to Dublin in the late sixties off hand can't say what year
For to live with her only child her daughter Peg O Deere
And still her happy laughter comes to me from long ago
The heart and soul of Claraghatlea kindhearted Mary O.
The only daughter of Mary and Jack the Master her only brother Jack
Died in England many years ago of a major heart attack
And Mary O outlived them all and 'tis said she's still going strong
And may she live to be over one hundred years and may her life be long.
I've known her since I was young lad since I was knee high tall
A mentor of my childhood years and one I still recall
She must have been over forty years when I was a schoolgoing boy
And with her happy hearty laugh she spread the gifty of joy.
In my memory she is still quite young she never did grow old
In her mid life when I was a boy she has a heart of gold
And I still hear her hearty laugh across the miles away
And I'll remember Mary O till my own final day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Green Eyed Mermaid
There’s a green eyed mermaid
who lives deep in the sea,
she has a mermaid tail
all sparkly and bluish green.
At night with the light of moon,
her eyes turn more greenish blue.
But green mostly during the day,
her big eyes have specs of brown not grey,
She sits on the rocks to get a tan,
she uses her tail as a fan.
Her tail flaps, swish, swish, swish.
Then at night when all fishes asleep,
she goes to rocks again and has a peep.
She looks at moon and makes a wish,
she wishes a pirate would give her a kiss.
Then she see’s his ship come to shore,
she anxiously waits, wondering what’s in store.
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poem by Christina Sunrise
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Green Eyed Melodie Mermaıd
There’s a green eyed mermaid
who lives deep in the sea,
she has a mermaid tail
all sparkly and bluish green.
At night with the light of moon,
her eyes turn more greenish blue.
But green mostly during the day,
her big eyes have specs of brown not grey,
She sits on the rocks to get a tan,
she uses her tail as a fan.
Her tail flaps, swish, swish, swish,
swimming below is tiny fish.
Then at night when all fishes asleep,
she goes to rocks again and has a peep.
She looks at moon and makes a wish,
she wishes a pirate would give her a kiss.
Then she see’s his ship come to shore,
she anxiously waits, wondering what’s in store.
Pirate lands, and spots green eyed mermaid’s eyes,
he becomes totally hypnotized.
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poem by Suzae Chevalier
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She'd Lie
She'd lie
Without cause or reason
Don't ask me why
Every chance she got she'd lie
It was pitiful really
A small exaggeration first
Only to be magnified
And wound into an elegant fraud
To be like Them
I wouldn't get mad
I was simply bewildered
They say to tell the truth is easier
But too ordinary for her I suppose
Not grand enough and so
The People wore clothes by Ralph Lauren
And all of their children went to Penn
And she'd rubbed elbows
With Who, What, Where, and When
Some names were dropped to emphasis this point
So that you'd know she was the square peg
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poem by Sara Fielder
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The Light In The Tigers Eyes
Sometime I cannot imagine the difference
Between you and the blackest night
You know those nights when only tigers stalk
And lie waiting for the sound of your breath
The faintest reflecting backlight is in their eyes
So I can only say one thing in your defence
You have laid with tigers
You have their scent
You know how they stalk and what they sense
I do not
And so I am terrified to lay in the thicket
And wait
---------
Have you seen a tigers foot
Stare at it soft and silent
Able to tread with no sound
On the leaf strewn floor of its jungleI
It can kill quickly without fuss and song
Except of course for its victims
Noises of dying
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poem by Geoffrey Fafard
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Let us say cheers! ! !
when we grow grapes,
the bounty is huge,
what else be done,
brew it into wine.
When we grow barley,
the bounty is large,
what else be done,
brew it into beer.
When we grow rice,
the bounty is plenty,
what else be done,
brew it into vodka.
When the clime is extreme,
the fingers are numb,
breathing cold air,
can be hotter,
when you have a peg.
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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The Shoemaker
Thou Poet, who, like any lark,
Dost whet thy beak and trill
From misty morn till murky dark,
Nor ever pipe thy fill:
Hast thou not, in thy cheery note,
One poor chirp to confer--
One verseful twitter to devote
Unto the Shoe-ma-ker?
At early dawn he doth peg in
His noble work and brave;
And eke from cark and wordly sin
He seeketh soles to save;
And all day long, with quip and song,
Thus stitcheth he the way
Our feet may know the right from wrong,
Nor ever go a stray.
Soak kip in mind the Shoe-ma-ker,
Nor slight his lasting fame:
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poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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The Slothful Metamorphosis of Aphoristic Midnight
Sand-lion, mountain lion,
Hermaphrodite- Some f%cker has stolen
My kite,
And the waves come up phosphorous all
Damp, enraptured honeybees-
Golf courses of crinkling foil
The never-ending beauties of uneven verisimilitude,
Jujubees and lightning bugs caught in the can
Of a young mongoloid and pitied up,
Made to sing dying fire:
Rope tricks slender knots around the woman going
Up into the sky
Who really isn’t there, suicide of smoke signals,
Her bangs, weathervanes and occult fingerpointing
Over the old bathrooms of high school and
College,
Worlds of young homes fitting in a peg board
In a game of restaurateurs- proving there really is
No easy solution for mutton headed ingeniousness,
The airplanes like flares leaping from point
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poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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A Brave Refrain
When snow is here, and the trees look weird,
And the knuckled twigs are gloved with frost;
When the breath congeals in the drover's beard,
And the old pathway to the barn is lost;
When the rooster's crow is sad to hear,
And the stamp of the stabled horse is vain,
And the tone of the cow-bell grieves the ear--
O then is the time for a brave refrain!
When the gears hang stiff on the harness-peg,
And the tallow gleams in frozen streaks;
And the old hen stands on a lonesome leg,
And the pump sounds hoarse and the handle squeaks;
When the woodpile lies in a shrouded heap,
And the frost is scratched from the window-pane
And anxious eyes from the inside peep--
O then is the time for a brave refrain!
When the ax-helve warms at the chimney-jamb,
And hob-nailed shoes on the hearth below,
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poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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