Sometimes, after dinner, we would go walking
to indulge, just for fun, in some harmless stalking.
But when I saw a girl
worthy of a whirl
Mother would start––and never stop talking.
I begged her to stop. Or, once and for all,
I said I would pack, and move down the hall.
I really would rather
live with my father;
Mother was driving me up the wall.
That’s why my father initially moved out.
(It was her mouth. Really, not his gout).
She talked all the time
Without reason or rhyme,
Driving dad crazy, for years, there’s no doubt.
If only before moving with dad... I had known
that he, too, is a pain in my innominate bone,
(He talks of his gout
driving me up the spout)
I would have looked for a pad of my own.
Stan I.S. Law
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|Reviewed by 000 000
|They give us our wings...then we run like heck!
|Reviewed by George Carroll
|Rarely does a guy give up a rent free pad but it does happen.|
|Reviewed by Andre Bendavi Benyehu (Reader)
Outstanding composition... "Weaning?" a is wit-wise poetic flower.
I salute You, Poet.
Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU
|Reviewed by Mary Lacey, Desertrat
Sounds like you really had to get away! Got a real kick out of, touched my "funny bone".
|Reviewed by Mr. Ed
|I guess both animals and humans must learn when it's time to wean!|