Primrose and Periwinkle

Damn this decision
Forbidding primrose and periwinkle
A dark alley of forgotten access
Leads to an open trespass
Out of the light
And into the dark
Leaving behind the primrose and periwinkle
To wither and die in the night

Damn the impatience
Destroying primrose and periwinkle
Yearning the bittersweet memory
Of what will never be
Out of the past
The decades bring home
A fleeting glimpse of primrose and periwinkle
Hidden now in shadows cast

Damn this sacrifice
Toasting primrose and periwinkle
The surrender of a forgotten soul
Laying bare the tale untold
Out of the rain
And into the fire
Leaving behind the primrose and periwinkle
To shrivel and burn in the flame

Damn the young recluse
Evading primrose and periwinkle
With security of emotions numbed
Later only to succumb
Straight from the heart
And into the cold
Burying deep the primrose and periwinkle
Beneath the remains of a new start

Damn this destiny
Condemning primrose and periwinkle
The ebb and flow of frothing sea foam
Erodes to sand a solid stone
Out of existence
To time forgotten
Picking up pieces of primrose and periwinkle
To drift in the tides of love’s penance

Copyright © 2014 Mr. Flying Pig

The Spot on the Wall

Talking to myself at the end of what seemed to be a very long day
Wondering if maybe there’s something I can’t think of that I really want to say
I stop and stare at a spot on the wall but it doesn’t want to go away
And my heart has turned to stone
And I’m feeling all alone
And my body aches
And my head spins
And my vision fades
And I’m back home

Thinking of a girl I used to know in what surely must’ve been another lifetime
She tossed her coin into the well but I with greed refused to part with mine
I stop and stare at a spot on the wall thinking it will give me a sign
And my heart has turned to stone
And I’m feeling all alone
And my hands are reaching
And my thoughts collide
And my mind wanders
And I’m back home

Copyright © 2014 Mr. Flying Pig

Never Good Enough

Misguided in your youth
Forever searching for a deeper truth
Can’t say you turned out all that bad
Though sometimes you took
And at others you were had
Still, you never felt it was good enough
Never good enough


Lost and found through the years
A trail of laughter and of tears
Your future is carved from days gone past
Sometimes you finished first
And others you came in last
Still, you never felt it was good enough
Never good enough


Prosperity in your life
Career and kids and a devoted wife
Hold on to what you believe is true
Sometimes you choose your path
And other times it chooses you
Still you never feel that it’s good enough
Never good enough

Copyright © 2014 Mr. Flying Pig

The Keys

Expression is trapped within the keys
Wanting to escape
It’s my job to help them find a way
To let it out
They speak to me
And they speak through me
They speak my unspoken language
For this moment
And help me to say
What I don’t know I want to say
They are my conscience
My memories
My joy and pain
They help me cope
But they also lead me to reason
They bring me joy
And sometimes express my pain
Or sorrow
Or anger
The keys become an extension
Of who I am
Who I once was
And who I will be
Expression is trapped within the keys
My expression to you
To make you feel you know who I am
Without becoming vulnerable
Because that’s who I am
Another vulnerable soul
Drifting among so many others
Needing to find the expression
Trapped in the keys

Copyright © 2014 Mr. Flying Pig

Old Mother Farket

I might as well make my first post here the first poem I ever recall writing.

I wrote this in 1971, when I was 9 years old, as a fourth grade school assignment. I thought it was great back then, but the teacher only gave me a “C” because I couldn’t tell her where I learned the word “strife”, so she was convinced somebody helped me write it. Decades later, when i was in my thirties. My wife and I were watching my favorite childhood movie, Walt Disney’s Jungle Book, with our kids and I almost keeled over when Baloo the bear sang the song “Bear Necessities” and got to the line “Forget about your troubles and your strife”. I wish I new where that teacher lived now.

Consequently, I didn’t try writing poetry again until I was in my twenties.

Old Mother Farket

Old Mother Farket
Went to the Market
To get some butter and bread
But when she got there
Her wallet was bare
So she went home and ate nothing instead

She went to the bank
To take out a loan
But after she got it
She got mugged going home

In two months the bank called
And said she must pay
Or in jail she’d be put
She said “can you make it today?”

The police came to her house
And threw her in jail
The old woman knew now
Her plan would not fail

She lived in her jail cell
For the rest of her life
With food, heat and clothing
Without any strife

Copyright © 2014 Mr. Flying Pig

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