Poor Sue Dunham, crazy as a loon,
Danced pure naked ‘neath the white bright moon;
Raised by folks on guilt and fear…
Mama just knitted and Daddy was weird.
A child of sunshine and daughter of trees,
She drank from the flowers in the noon-day breeze;
Taught to obey each mindless rule…
Forced to attend the dull grey school.
Poor Sue Dunham, with bare tan knee,
Skated down a sidewalk bold and free;
Scolded for running when she should have walked…
Bored to tears by empty talk.
A child of ocean’s fresh-tossed wave,
She found bright gems to love and save;
Told to live where the air was foul…
In the corner of the earth like the devil’s bowel.
Poor Sue Dunham, a woman in years,
Refused to live by guilt and fears;
Punished by men for her spirit bright…
She slept alone in the moonlit night.
A child of love and friendship true,
She gave from the heart to him and you;
Pushed by the rules which seek to kill…
You’ll find poor Sue buried on that hill.
It’s fun to remember
The “good old days”
And recall sweet memories…
I have a garden
Full of them, bright blooms
And sheltering trees.
The days of my youth
Seem recent enough
And the spirit is more than willing…
My energy seems hard to contain,
My cup overflows to spilling.
If Mickey Shaw were here today
I wouldn’t have to beg…
That dear young lad who
French-Kissed me
And suggested I shave my legs.
He sits now in a corner,
His parts and wires dead…
A lifeless mass of metal,
And a sadly-drooping head.
Of skills and feats accomplished,
His life had been unique…
Given tasks to fathom,
All solutions would he seek.
Never one for petty gain,
For grievance or complaint…
He was a splendid worker,
A stainless-steel saint.
He did his work with vigor,
Most enthused and always eager…
His needs were slight, he never sulked,
And his daily diet meager.
A little oil to keep him fluid,
A polish now and then…
And when it came to talent,
He earned a glowing TEN!!
He never took a holiday,
Sabbatical or leave…
And though he had no time alone,
Was never known to grieve.
I used to wonder as I gazed
Upon his vulcan face…
If he had dreams or private thoughts
Involving inner space.
Might he have wished to speed away
On wheels of hi-tech power…
To find a friend simpatico
With whom to spend an hour?
Would they have murmured passionate thoughts
Then sipped small silver cups of tea
And nibbled sweet confections?
I’d like to think he had a friend
To share this time most tender…
Perhaps another, built like him,
But of the other gender.
And if they’d shared an hour or two,
To make metallic love…
Perhaps their master workman
Would bless them from above.
To give to them a robot son
Whose heart was filled with fire…
That this now lifeless mass of parts
Might gracefully retire.
Remembering deep within his soul
Accomplished skills and more…
Reflected in the brilliance
Of this son he could adore.
How doth the happy eunuch,
That faultless semi-male?
With lilting voice and ways so sweet,
His gentleness prevails.
He never has to bother
With proms or diamond rings…
And seldom is he occupied
With girls, the silly things!
Unless, of course, the job involves
Being keeper of the harem…
Otherwise, the female type
Has a tendency to scare ‘im!
Whenever he’s unhappy,
He’ll bake a cherry pie…
Then sit alone and eat it all,
Wiping teardrops from his eyes.
On Sundays he may go to church,
As soprano in the choir…
Unfortunately, a deep bassoon
Is a tone he’ll not acquire!
While shopping, he will look at things
With lace and fancy bows…
And, if he’s wearing sandals,
You’ll see polish on his toes!
His friends may sometimes gather,
For little cakes and tea…
They chat of daily bargains,
Exchanging recipes.
Whenever he retires,
He’ll open a boutique…
With darling little items
That other eunuchs seek.
Baseball caps and catcher’s mitts,
Tobacco plugs to chew…
Old bluejeans and checkered shirts,
And cans of favorite brew.
For, deep within each gentle heart,
A macho-man resides…
Who spits and swears and boasts aloud,
And bullies girls, besides!
How doth the happy eunuch?
He doth it with a thmile…
I guess he’s just as happy as
The redneck, in his style!
She knocks on each door, a smile on her face,
Extending her hand to the whole human race…
A stranger, eager to know each new place,
She scans the scene of this moment in space.
She looks for a welcome, the genuine kind,
Touching each heart with her rainbow mind…
A beam, searching to locate a friendly sign,
She greets each person as special and fine.
She offers herself, in a brief introduction,
To discover the wounds of daily destruction…
A peddlar, of interesting goods and construction,
She watches their eyes for any obstruction.
She listens for clues, as signposts to follow,
Expressions of interest or sullen deep sorrow…
A healer, unmindful of what they might borrow,
She gives them the urging to welcome tomorrow.
She gives what she can, with no price to pay,
Whatever each person might need most that day…
A loner, who follows her own chosen way,
She leaves them all smiling but she can not stay.
Doctor Frankenstein’s strange mohn-stuh
May not have won a prize
For being a gorgeous well-dressed hunk
But he had pretty eyes!
His manners were electrifying
With voice both loud and grand,
And he was really popular
Throughout that mountain land.
He even fell in love with one
Tall femme fatale named Briddly
Who told the folks of her betrothed…
“Appearance don’t mean diddly!”
Now Popeye was a little guy
Who wouldn’t hurt a flea
And when he saw dear Olive Oyle
Said “that’s the girl for me!”
Big Bluto also had designs
To win her sultry hand
But Olive yelled and ran away
“Cuz Popeye was her man!
And as he kissed this wobbly gal
With figure fair to middly,
He said “I love my Olive Oyle…
Appearances don’t mean diddly!”
A tiny woman met an ape
Who towered tall and hairy
And she did love him very much
Though he was loud and scary.
So small and scrawny did she stand.
She thought herself inferior
For he looked very handsome and
In size he was superior!
Joe Young still loved her very much
Though she was small and piddly,
And whispered in her teensy ear…
“Appearances don’t mean diddly!”
Ignatz threw those great big bricks at
Krazy Kat for loving,
No matter what he did to her
She’d never think of shoving.
And though the bricks flew fast and far
She called him “My sweetheart!”
Poor Krazy Kat would not give up
For she wore Kupid’s dart.
And now she took the best advice
From dear old uncle Wiggily;
“Each brick is sent with deep regards…
Appearances don’t mean diddly!”
Cleopatra sat alone
For she had lost her Caesar
And Anthony was not around
To hug and gently squeeze’er.
“It probably is your makeup,
Perhaps you wear too much
And neither guy can find a place
That he could even touch!”
And thus her asp fair kissed her,
Having solved her lovelorn riddly
“And as for me…I love the stuff…
Appearances don’t mean diddly!”
So if you’ve got a great big nose
Or butt shaped like a boulder,
Don’t fret or cry, my funny friend…
Though I will lend my shoulder.
It matters not how you are built…
It’s what’s inside that counts;
You’re measured not in how you look
Nor dollars, pounds or ounce.
Don’t worry whether you are trim
Nor how big around your middly,
There’s just much more to hug and love…
“Appearances don’t mean diddly!”
As I was following the highway
Unmindful of the time,
I chanced to see a fella walking
Along the center line.
“Get outta the way, you idiot!”
I shouted right at him,
But all he did was wave at me
And flash this silly grin.
Then in my rear view mirror
I saw him sit right down
And haul out two big sandwiches…
He had to be a clown!
So there he sat quite cozy
In the center of the road,
Eating this big sandwich…
And I’ll bet his beer was cold!
Curiosity got the best of me
So I swung my car around,
Then parked it on the side of the road
Though I was homeward bound.
“You crazy loon of a blankety-blank,
Is this a nutty joke?!
I ought to haul right off and give
Your nose a mighty poke!
You’re just lucky I swerved around
You walkin’ there so smug,
I coulda crushed you splat like that,
A tiny mooshy bug!”
“Well sir, I’m glad you didn’t
“Cuz, I ain’t finished my lunch,
But if you’d like to sit with me…
I’ll share with you a munch.”
I’ve never been the sort of man
To snub an invitation,
Granted this one had to be
The whackiest situation.
So I just squatted on the line
Without a parles vouz,
And as I took a great bite
He said “Well howdy do!”
“Welcome to my picnic,
Howd’ ja like a beer?
I happen to have an extra one,
And wish you lots of cheer.”
And so we chewed and guzzled,
It really was quite pleasant;
I sat with him so long that day…
The future’d become the present!
“I want to thank you, Mister,
For your hospitality…
You’re really not an idiot,
So accept my apology.”
He just smiled and shook my hand,
Then swept the crumbs quite clean…
“Stop and visit any time,
On Saturday we have beans!”
Once in my car and turned around,
I looked out through the rear…
And there he was, that funny guy,
Waving his last beer.
There he went upon his way,
A guy who felt just fine…
Because he lived the freedom way,
And walked the center line!
Diana Hunter McGuerty has been a teacher for over 35 years and a lifetime poet.
Diana’s first published poetry book is titled Many Shades of Light: Reflections in Poetry
Diana’s poetry book and other poetry can be found at:
https://michaelmcguerty.wixsite.com/mcguerty-photography/untitled
To purchase Diana’s book ($12), send request to pecoskid@juno.com. Thank You!