I don't need your wife
You may keep her strife
She's too brat for me
She's too brat for me
I don't want her
You can have her
She's too brat for me
She's too brat for me
I don't need your wife
You may keep her strife
She's too brat for me
She's too brat for me
I don't want her
You can have her
She's too brat for me
She's too brat for me
Thomas Paul Murphy
Copyright 2010 Thomas Paul Murphy
The U-Turn Poem
Always when I want to do a U-eee
A car blocks my way
And damn I’m through-eee
Thomas Paul Murphy
Copyright 2010 Thomas Paul Murphy
“Poker Lineage Smith” 07 08 2010
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He fought for beauty in the world
Against false pretense
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The written word in broken cursive
His best defense
~
Scribbled down on traveled streets
Smiles providing comfort
~
Glances a second to meaningful meets
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Lights and sound from rumbling tires
Hearts of stone or burning fires?
~
Drives the wheel with knees
His words flowed with ease
Where should one say please?
~
He opens a door of chaotic solitude
Is he home?
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Thomas Paul Murphy
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Copyright 2010 Thomas Paul Murphy
Uptight 07 08 2010
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Uptight
You’ve been up all night
~
Uptight
I don’t like your fight
~
Uptight
You know I’m right
~
Uptight
I think you’re out of sight
~
~
Uptight
You’ve been up all night
~
Uptight
I don’t like your fight
~
Uptight
I know you’re right
~
Uptight
I think you’re out of sight
~
~
Thomas Paul Murphy
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Copyright 2010 Thomas Paul Murphy
The Deer Does Not Name the Berries 07 06 2010
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Berries in the forest
I know which ones are good to eat
They are like a treasure found
As is meeting a friend of the forest
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Some stops in the woods smell clean
Some places rotten smells lurk
Sometimes I smell and my ears perk up
Then I know which way to go
~
As I then approach
Bounding away sounds are heard
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Brown fur then bounces up and down and away
Did my forest friends lead me to them?
Hoofs trod louder as rocks are trampled
~
As one follows the deer path
We see what the deer sees
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The paths often wind upward on ridges
Through arrays of pines and birch
Then slope down near water
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The heat of exertion is sometimes met by patches of cold fresh forest air
Providing renewed vigor to the journey leg back
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The deer does not name the berries
Does it shop for favorites in its forest?
And know what will be on distant shelves today?
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Smell, sight, taste
Memory of being shown what to eat
When it was young
~
Thomas Paul Murphy
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Copyright 2010 Thomas Paul Murphy
