She wanted to know where the limit lies
when it came to manhood and the size
trying to compare
she had to stop and stare
at the one that took first prize
#1546 Limerick by Jerry Brotherton
What a Whopper
Category: Poetry
Back on My Side of the Road
In honor of Poetry Month, I am resurrecting my old WordPress website, The Backyard Poet.
https://thebackyardpoetcom.wordpress.com
I sure would appreciate you dropping by and giving me a look. Check out some of the old stuff and hopefully enjoy some new poetry and flash fiction.
~Back on My Side of the Road~
4/1/2025 Jerry Brotherton
I’ve tried to walk in the middle,
keep my mouth shut when I can.
But my silence is over,
and it’s time to make my stand.
No longer can I sit idly by,
with this world in disarray.
I’ll voice my mind and my heart,
let the chips fall where they may.
~ Am I Original…
As I sit here and pen this rhyme
I wonder if there may come a time
someone else might have the same words to say
As we sit under the same moon
and write tales about a lover’s swoon
will we tell it in the very same way
There are only so many words
to use as nouns, adjectives and verbs
coincidence dictates it might be so
Cause I have read so many bards
that the chances might not be that hard
I could do it and never really know
After all there’s been many times
I’ve struggled to find a way to rhyme
the word horse with anything but ‘of course’
I guess I could make up a word
one nobody else has ever heard
like the evil stallion who bucked and ‘snorsed’
I don’t know why I worry so
there’s probably no one else you know
with a mind quite as twisted and depraved
So if you ever think for sure
you have read these exact words before
know that I didn’t mean to misbehave
~ Another Rule to Break…
Well the experts say
in your poetry
don’t use a cliché
to tell your story
bleeding hearts of men
the tail of a dog
clucking like old hens
croaking like a frog
a bright twinkling star
the light of the moon
runs like a new car
humming of a tune
she’s the cat’s meow
the chug of a train
a slow drifting cloud
the patter of rain
even this rhyme scheme
of ABAB
has no place it seems
in your poetry
so maybe what’s wrong
with this world today
we all go along
with what experts say
cause with no cliché
just what can I do
no ‘Happy Birthday’
or an ‘I Love You’
so my word to you
forget what they say
if it works for you
do it anyway
~ The Dance…
The world is filled with some fancy dancers
who’ll come a prancing through your bedroom door
They’ll do a pretty good job of makin
you think they’re spot on what you’re lookin for
But they’ll hem and haw and skirt the edges
never quite proving what they claim to be
They’ll never give you any straight answers
when you tell em just what it is you need
The words will roll cross their tongues so easy
they’ll try to hide behind a white toothed lie
Watch ‘em primp and prune their fancy feathers
while promising you the moon in the sky
Just keep on looking for the kind of man
who’s only promise is a life of love
And asks for nothing but to share that life
under a wide Montana sky above
You’ll know for sure my dear when you’ve found him
the right cowboy will treat you like he should
never take a single breath without you
and no one will care for you like he would
So I’ll toss my hat into the circle
though I can never promise you the world
I can make darn sure to never hurt you
if you’ll only be this cowboy’s cowgirl
Jerry Brotherton 