Battle of the Poems 2019: Day 4

Image by Steve Buissinne from Pixabay

Which of these two is the one for you?

Hopefully, I won't do something stupid like stick the title right in the middle of the poem like I did yesterday and then somehow fail to notice that I did so. I really do wonder about myself sometimes.

Poem #7
Angie Blue

in a time that came and went long ago
whether I was taking down my walking cane and hat
or wrapped up in my bell-bottom blues
I guess you could call me Angie Blue

I was that girl who lived my life in the songs I heard
on the rock and roll radio
I dreamed of wide spaces and endless love

and maybe if I'd been pretty
instead of an ugly duckling girl
maybe I'd have found something more

than fire that quickly turned to ice
and shallow-hearted boys looking for a hookup
that didn't last any longer than a song

you could call me Angie Blue
the ugly duckling girl who learned the truth
that there will never be a prince who rides along the sea and the mountain

my collection of colorful hats now sit collecting dust
my walking cane is now used to support
a body that doesn't work very well

the boys who wanted a good-time girl
are now middle-aged men cheating on their wives
with foolish young women not much older than I was then

I suppose it was better to live my truth
then to get caught up in a web
of love that was no more than lies

but I have been lonely
there is no one and only
unless you count only lonely me

footloose in my mind
with a body that can't dance in reality
and not so fancy or free at all


Poem #8
Hen Haibun

When I was a child in New Mexico, my family kept chickens. We had hens of many different varieties, and we would take the extra eggs and sell them at the farmers' market. Sadly, when my father got a job in Colorado after obtaining his doctorate, we couldn't take the chickens. We gave them to some family friends. I have always wanted to keep hens again, and maybe once my son and I are done working on clearing the mobile home out for sale, it will become a possibility.

I remember them
and the gifts they gave to us
lovely feathered friends

Folks can jump in and vote anytime! The winner of yesterday's battle was Poem #6, Blitzing Open the Way.


  1. Your first poem makes my heart ache with and for you.
    The second warms the cockles of my hard heart. I adoring the contented noises happy chooks make - and hope you can keep them again.

    1. Thank you. I hope within the coming five years we might be able to set up a coop. It would have to be well-insulated, or we'd have to also have an area in the basement for days when they couldn't be outside. Hens are generally well-behaved. We had one particularly ornery and mean rooster who ended up in the literal stew after he knocked my then two-year-old brother to the ground and started pecking his head.


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