(Poem #1346) Ooly Pop a Cow
for Bess and Molly My brother Charles brought home the news the kids were saying take a flying leap and eat me raw and be bop a lula. Forty miles he rode the bus there and back. The dog and I met him at the door, panting for hoke poke, hoke de waddy waddy hoke poke. In Cu Chi, Vietnam, I heard tapes somebody's sister sent of wild thing, I think I love you and hey now, what's that sound, everybody look what's ... Now it's my daughters bringing home no-duh, rock out, whatever, like I totally paused, and like I'm like ... I'm like Mother, her hands in biscuit dough, her ears turning red from ain't nothing butta, blue monday, and tutti frutti, aw rooty!
David Huddle, (b. 1942, Ivanhoe, VA) was a parachutist in Vietnam. He lives in Vermont, where he writes fiction and essays as well as poetry. Today's poem is from "Summer Lake", published in 1999. It's a simple and direct offering that uses language and popular music to personalize the passage of time, in just five short stanzas. Nothing spectacular, but nice nonetheless. thomas. PS. Gene Vincent, Elvis Presley, Fats Domino, Little Richard, the Troggs, Buffalo Springfield... yeah.