Incy Wincy, black as night,
Hiding from the bathroom light.
Throbbing beat from hairy legs,
Waiting, waiting, who’ll be next?
Creepy crawly. Skitter skatter.
Screams and cries! What IS the matter?
It’s Incy Wincy - no surprise -
He’s only hunting careless flies.
Jean Jorgensen
Showing posts with label Jean Jorgensen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jean Jorgensen. Show all posts
Beach Braves at Port Soif - Jean Jorgensen
True, they have their camp fires,
Their war cries and tribal chants.
But these are not proud warriors
Defending ancient lands and rights.
These are shameful polluters
Who defile our ancient shores and seas,
Their weapons the daggered shards of glass
And ruptured twists of metal
That pierce and lacerate tender paws and feet.
Then, unlike scavenging rodents
That creep silently at dusk from stony lairs
To forage deep-shadowed sands,
So these other creatures, these beach desecrators -
With vandals’ mindset sated -
Scuttle in raucous retreat into the darkness,
Their toxic dross abandoned to the night.
Jean Jorgensen
Written in outrage in 2009)
Their war cries and tribal chants.
But these are not proud warriors
Defending ancient lands and rights.
These are shameful polluters
Who defile our ancient shores and seas,
Their weapons the daggered shards of glass
And ruptured twists of metal
That pierce and lacerate tender paws and feet.
Then, unlike scavenging rodents
That creep silently at dusk from stony lairs
To forage deep-shadowed sands,
So these other creatures, these beach desecrators -
With vandals’ mindset sated -
Scuttle in raucous retreat into the darkness,
Their toxic dross abandoned to the night.
Jean Jorgensen
Written in outrage in 2009)
Lament - Jean Jorgensen
In his own Universe he is the Sun
And we, the hobbies, job and family
Are as the planets, ever-circling,
Absorbing whatever warmth and interest we can find
In proportion to the value of ourselves.
But just for once I would like to be the Sun
In someone’s Universe;
To know that I am all-important to that Life.
To give my warmth and comfort
And in return receive the knowledge that I too exist.
Jean Jorgensen
And we, the hobbies, job and family
Are as the planets, ever-circling,
Absorbing whatever warmth and interest we can find
In proportion to the value of ourselves.
But just for once I would like to be the Sun
In someone’s Universe;
To know that I am all-important to that Life.
To give my warmth and comfort
And in return receive the knowledge that I too exist.
Jean Jorgensen
Black Suede Dreams - Jean Jorgensen
Dignified and standing straight,
Shoe-tree’d and neat,
Waiting in a quiet place
For work-weary feet.
The pretend glass slippers of that dreary northern street.
Did the mother have her dreams?
As did the child in later years.
The child, with eager, careful touch,
Grasping the wooden-handled brush,
Its wiry bristles smoothing
Soft black suede,
Creating shadows light and dark
That played their game and changed and moved,
Never staying the same.
Nor did the dreams.
The mother’s changed by toil and care,
The child’s yet to be found there
In that world of softest suede that she had longed to clean.
And so discovered her dream.
Jean Jorgensen
Shoe-tree’d and neat,
Waiting in a quiet place
For work-weary feet.
The pretend glass slippers of that dreary northern street.
Did the mother have her dreams?
As did the child in later years.
The child, with eager, careful touch,
Grasping the wooden-handled brush,
Its wiry bristles smoothing
Soft black suede,
Creating shadows light and dark
That played their game and changed and moved,
Never staying the same.
Nor did the dreams.
The mother’s changed by toil and care,
The child’s yet to be found there
In that world of softest suede that she had longed to clean.
And so discovered her dream.
Jean Jorgensen
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