Disclaimer: Naughty word implied in this poem. Do not read if easily offended.
Retired
Mr. Clock, Mr. Clock,
though your advances I try to block,
my attempts you seem to mock
with your continuous tic tic toc,
echoed by my neighbor’s cock
crowing from his noisome flock.
No longer cheerleaders or jocks,
nor femmes fatale with flowing locks,
in Birkenstocks, flip flops or Crocs,
(worn in the winter complete with socks)
we huddle safe behind our locks,
afraid of terrorists with glocks
or neighbors’ children tossing rocks.
We hear your phone calls and your knocks,
we know you gather in your flocks,
your PTAs and your ad hocs,
while each of us sits in our box
as stubborn as a mule or ox,
busy in our painters’ smocks
or cooking spinach in our woks.
Our homes all sealed up like Ft. Knox,
we have no need of the world’s shocks,
its pestilence and chicken pox.
We have our pensions and our stocks,
our Lean Cuisines in our ice box.
We shun your CNN or Fox!!!
Our TV sets set to the past
neglect to show the latest blast
as all the world seems set to cast
Armageddon, coming fast.
So as you watch the latest drone
on your notebook or your phone,
as you predict and hate and moan,
please leave us the f— alone!
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
Lol, love it!
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Perfect! I LOVE it! 🙂
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Having used that word, more times than I could count? I am not so easily offended by the implied word. A good anglo-saxon word if there ever was one? These days in my dotard, I attempt to find other words to use, to convey the same emotion. Not always successful. Yet always vigilant, in my new found prissiness. … Oh really nice poem, Judy! Kudos, for nice one! Cheers Jamie
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Thanks, Jamie.. That disclaimer was not intended for thee, but for fainter souls.
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Obviously, i am sure? Yet, still why not? I might be of a faint heart, for such exclamations? Maybe, possibly, could be?
Fainter souls? My mother would never use such language. Once in a while I would visit her in London and she would loan me her car. People there, drive mercilessly. So once in a while I would let go with an f-bomb. To get a disapproving … tut.
Having said that. In the 1980’s Mom was visiting me and with us driving down to Vancouver and White Rock. The people we intended to meet, were in a strip bar. Mom walked gaily in and plonked herself down. Meanwhile I found it difficult to join her, for the stage action was quite raunchy. … sigh! Some mothers do have ’em … Cheers Jamie
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There must be something wrong with us because we are not huddled behind locked doors shivering in fear. I don’t even know why people DO that? The world has always held dangers. Life if like that. I may move slowly, but I don’t do it shaking with fear!
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Wel, Marilyn, it was hyperbole for sure and meant in zest, although I do avoid the news. Enough filters through without watching 24 hours a day.. or even an hour a day. Or a minute.
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We could always climb into the missile shelters in Western SD for safety, let the action go bye, bye!
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Lots of spiders and snakes taking refuge there as well, I bet.. or we’d have to fight off all the VIP’s no doubt.
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