Four Poems: We Want The Red Head, My First Dinner in Heaven, Red Hood Girl & The Running Faucet Behind My Back

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We Want The Red Head

“We want the red head!”

“We want the red head!”

The bar screamed alone

 

“We want the red head!”

“We want the red head!”

She felt, special, pretty and proud

 

“We want the red head!”

“We want the red head!”

Atop the table she took a bow

 

Then did a dip

Spun her dress and winked

Then eloquently sat back down

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My First Dinner in Heaven

 

I want Shepard and Banksy to paste the walls

Dali to arrange the furniture

Rockwell to prepare dinner

And Picaso to choose the wine

 

I want Van Gogh and O’Keefe to choose the flowers

Gould to play his piano

Edith Piaf to sing

And Ms. Audrey Hepburn to be my girl

 

I want Dr Suess and Gorey to trade stories

Jane Goodall to inspire us

Fred Astaire to teach us steppin’

And Arno Rafael Minkkinen to photograph us all

 

I want my mother and father to be kissing

All my old pets to be young and playing

My old teddy bear living

And all my heroes as proud as anything

 

I want to eat, drink and laugh with everyone

While Rembrant and Basquiat work together,

Drunk off hot wine, painting us all

At my first dinner in heaven

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Red Hood Girl

Jane always spoke

Of having a red hooded cape –

Like Little Red Riding Hood’s cape

And after her mother came back

From her year in Paris

She had a present for Jane –

The bright red hooded cape

It was long and soft

With long strings to tie around her neck

Jane loved it

She wore it to school

She wore it to church

In front of the television

And even to bed

But one day, when Jane and her old Irish setter Richie

Went out for an adventure

Richie decided the best way to escape the evil flying monkeys

Was to jump into the brook

And roll around in the mud

After Richie bopped back over to Jane

With a muddy nose

Muddy paws

And mud clumps under his belly

He did his shake

And mud sprayed everywhere

Richie noticed that

Jane looked devastated

Quickly she brought Richie back to the brook

And

Frantically

While muttering

Washed off the rest of the mud

Jane then tore off her red hood

And used it to

Dry Richie fluffy again

That way

When the two of them got back to the house

Jane knew

It would be her

That would get

The

Beating

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the running faucet behind my back

hiding my mind

is like holding a running faucet

behind my back

sometimes I can get a thumb in

which makes ideas and words

spray violently wild

but most of the time

it just gushes free

soaking me

and the poor,

poor people

who

happen to be around

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All four poems are from the book, Let The Poets Come & Stop Me available here: http://www.davidmcwane.com/store/

Thanks for reading,

- David

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