Oodles of Doodles

Compose

I wake up every morning straddled by furry friends,
Three mollycoddled canines,
Braced firmly in my bed.

It's hard to roll left, even harder to roll right,
The covers are bottled around me,
I'm like a bagworm swaddled tight.

My bed is King Sized, pyramidal in width and height,
How did they saddle up here?
These ninjas of the night.

I tug at every corner trying to loosen up their grip,
But dare they budge a little,
I'm afraid the sheet might rip.

I finally break their hold and squirm out tentatively,
They sure do like to cuddle,
These spoiled bowwows fast asleep.

It's hard to get angry with this caboodled clan,
They're the cutest little threesome,
Puppy, Mom and Dad.

Daphne is the mother, her majesty, the Royal Queen.
She's the elder Labradoodle,
Nose nudgingly pristine.

Niles the distinguished father comes from a finer brood,
A Poodle that yields to others,
Waiting patiently for his food.

Max, now he's a handful, their offspring's still sewing seeds,
He acts just like a puppy,
Though he's the largest of the three.

Coats as black as coal, Niles has a fringe of grey,
Max is all jet black, with just a smidge of clay,
Daphne likes to be coddled, her highness gets her way.

Muddled pains in the canoodle, we love our Three Little Bears,
Momma, Poppa and Baby, bundled puddles of loving care,
Oodles of Doodles beyond compare.


Copyright © May 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm024
050109

A Jewish Cowgirl

Riding the plains of nightclubs and bars,
Wearing beer stains, teardrops and scars,
A special kind of lady in her own western world,
With a mind a little crazy, a Jewish Cowgirl.

When she walks in a room heads naturally turn,
Her smile breaks the ice, makes men's hearts yearn.
Her laugh is contagious, her giggles divine,
Personality outrageous with tequilla and wine.

Wherever she sits she attracts an audience,
She captivates attention with beauty and radiance.
Her mere presence has a way of making younger men stutter,
Her sincere tenderness makes their hearts melt like butter.

She wears tight fitting jeans and a black leather vest,
Eyes can't help but be drawn to her non-lacking chest.
A well curved body, not too lean or fat,
A tattoo not too gaudy, a horse on her back.

She attracts attention with warm smiling eyes,
Exacts her redemption with beguiling reprise.
Gentile women see through her disguise,
Her subtle innuendos and innocent lies.

She handles her suitors in a way that's just right,
Rejects social Tudors without argument or fight.
Her image is photographed in male minds she knows,
Her exits are choreographed wherever she goes.

As she rides off into her moonlit sunsets,
She counts her blessings, discounts regrets,
Each night's an experiment, an adventure unfurled,
A brand new experience for a Jewish Cowgirl.




Copyright © January 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
011610

Simon Vincent Ladd

The eldest son of an Irishman,
Was Simon Vincent Ladd.
Raised outside of Washington,
When times were not that bad.
Men valued what they had.

Born in the winter of '56.
When it was good to be alive.
Penny jars and muscle cars,
Women with tall beehives.
Glasses over sized.

Half Catholic and half Protestant,
Were Simon's mom and dad.
Both got married way too young,
Victims of a social fad.
They struggled for all they had.

In '59 war broke out,
In North and South Vietnam.
Determined to stamp communism out,
We fought the Viet Cong.
Many felt it was wrong.

A brand new decade, 1960.
Simon Vincent turned four.
His parents barely managed each week,
On $100 or more.
It was tough being poor.

In that year's election,
John F. Kennedy won.
Despite some strong objections,
The war carried on.
Many cried we didn't belong.

When he was seven, Simon recalled,
His father was 25.
A handsome man, slender and tall,
Quite the athletic guy.
It was a balmy July.

Later on that summer, of 1963,
Two hundred thousand men of color,
Marched on Washington, D.C.,
Led by a Doctor named Martin Luther,
They shared a collective dream.

Times got worse, money was short,
Even his mom got a job.
The month before, Kennedy was shot,
More went to Vietnam.
People feared the nuclear bomb.

In '64 his sister was born,
Life got twice as tough.
His dad jumped 'round from job to job.
Tried different kinds of stuff.
Nothing seemed enough.

In '65 his father decides,
To sign up for the war.
Despite resistance from his wife,
He walks right out the door.
Things got worse than before.

Soon new checks came rolling in,
Dad finally found steady work.
They got a letter now and then,
A picture was an extra perks.
Mom no longer had to work.

In '67 Simon was eleven,
His sister was almost 3.
That Doctor spoke in New York City,
He was hailed a modern King.
It was a tenuous thing.

He opposed the war and poverty,
Spoke of life beyond.
He forged a war for equality.
Was anti-Vietnam.
Cautiously, life went on.

Though his father never bothered,
To visit or phone home.
The checks kept coming,
While Simon was becoming,
A young man on his own.

On April 4th of '68 Dr. King was shot.
It affected Simon a lot.
Many people protested, many people fought,
King haters boasted, he deserved what he got.
Simon thought definitely not.

That same year, with the election near,
Another Kennedy died.
How it happened wasn't clear,
He remembered his mother cried.
Simon just sat and sighed.

The war raged on in Vietnam,
As Nixon became President.
In '69 Apollo 11 set a precedent.
On July 16th the moon became,
Man's newest residence.

In July of '69,
Simon's sister turned five,
It was a turbulent time.
Simon's father was still alive,
The family still survived.

One month later, in mid August,
Four hundred thousand arrived.
At Yasgur's farm in a place called Woodstock,
A concert, rain or shine.
The largest of it's kind.

The decade turned and so did Simon,
A muscular, bright 14.
Everyday day the news reminded him,
How terrible war can be.
It was all he'd ever see.

In May that year a shooting occurred,
At a Ohio University.
Four students died, at Kent State.
As guards shot radomly.
In a protest violence free.

A telegram came later that month,
Simon remembered getting the mail.
His mom immediately opened the letter,
Then suddenly turned totally pale.
He consoled her to no avail.

He read that day his dad was missing,
He'd been listed MIA,
Lost somewhere in Northern Asia.
Around Memorial Day,
All the Ladds could do was pray.

To make things worse the income stopped,
Mom no longer got dad's checks.
Soon she had to go back to work,
The whole thing was one big mess.
That's how it went, he guessed.

The war raged on against the Viet Cong,
It was now in year eleven,
New York City opened tower one,
It seemed to reach to Heaven.
Simon's sister turned seven.

In '71, Simon had begun,
To look like a full grown man.
He helped his mom best he could,
Did what a 15 year old can.
The Beatles were his favorite band.

Later that year tower 2 appeared,
Majestically by one's side.
They called them twins, America cheered.
No one could match their size.
Simon wondered if that was wise.

In '72, Simon knew,
His dad would never come home.
Mr. Ladd gave all he had,
Now rested all alone.
In some God forsaken zone.

The President visited China,
Was re-elected that same year.
Tragedy struck the Munich Olympics,
As 11 Israeli's disappeared.
It was many folks greatest fear.

At 16 Simon realized,
If the war went on.
Its he who would be victimized,
Forced to carry on.
Soon the draft would come..

He thought alot about his father,
For many a sleepless night.
Sometimes he would sit and wonder,
What it was like to fight.
Was it wrong or right?

One thing always made him sad,
How much he missed his dad.
It had been seven years,
Of missing what he had.
How could he not be mad?

The year became '73 and still they got no word.
They'd asked for confirmation.
Sought what they deserved.
They got no information.
Simon would not be deterred.

Just when it seemed hopeless,
That the end was no where near.
A ceasefire was called on the 28th day,
Of January that new year.
Many didn't care.

There was still no word on Simon's father,
Or hundreds of MIA's.
Why would anyone even bother,
To search for them anyway?
God bless the USA.

On a blistery day in November, 1973,
A day Simon will remember,
The Lord shined mercifully.
There came a knock at the front door.
Of Simon Vincent Ladd.
When he opened it, there he stood.
Simon Vincent's Dad.




Copyright © December 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
122909

Hand Me Down Life

My life seems kind of simple,
I s'pose I cain't complain.
I gots just 'bout everthain,
There's no need to be ashamed.

A wife, a house and a fam'ly,
2 yung'uns and my own yard.
3 hound dogs, inside plumbin',
An attached garage and 3 used cars.

I'd say we ain't a hurtin'
Weez certainly far from poor.
Can't help but wonder why it is though,
Every thing's been used before.

Oh Lord I weren't the man who'd go,
And ever asked for much.
I was your biggest fan, you know,
I always kept in touch.
You helped me learn to stand and grow.
And gave me a wonderful wife.
I just don't understand it though.
Why I have a hand-me-down life.

My house was a lived in, by a prior family,
It's really kind of funny how I got it actually.
My wife she was a married to another man 'fore me,
When we met she'd just divorced,
was friendly as can be.

I'd always had 2 hound dogs, to keep me company,
Then I moved into her house
with a cocker named Tiffany.
A used dog...
I liked her just fine, though she was a bit phoofy,
My other dog Kimba always went outside to pee.

Never had a new car,
they was always owned before me.
I take that back, we got a new Le Sabre back in 1993.
Wrecked it though, it figures.
Only new car I ever had.
I remember now when I got it,
everyone thought it belonged to my dad.

Oh Lord I'm a man, you know,
who takes life seriously.
I always try do my best,
to live life comfortably.
Ain't one to take a stand,
don't want to cause no strife.
I just don't understand it, though,
me and my hand-me-down life.

My woman was married before, you know,
her man cheated wantonly,
I met her on the rebound,
a blind date where we both could see.
Didn't mind that she was used,
though, it was a comfort actually,
Knowin' she'd been down that road before
meant all the world to me.

Somethings are better worn a little,
they need no warranty,
If ever they get broke or torn,
your not out all that money.
Woman are kind of the same sometimes,
twice married makes 'em contrite,
Hell, it really ain't all that bad,
sort of takes out most the fight.

Don't think me too ungrateful,
for all the blessings I got,
I usually have my plateful,
whether life's worn or not.
It's really rather fateful,
though, seems I'm doing alright,
I 'spose I should remain faithful,
there's worse things than a hand-me-down wife.

So thanks Lord for what you've provided,
true love and prosperity,
And all those daily reminders
of what a good husband ought to be.
For those of you still single,
still lookin' for that perfect wife.
Remember this here lesson,
ain't nothing wrong with a hand-me-down life.



Copyright © Spetember 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
110809

Anissa Jones? Is That You?

I found some pictures in a drawer the other day,
of a girl about 7 years old.
She had pigtails, freckles and sandy blonde hair.
Her blue eyes were like a story untold.

I couldn't quite place her innocent face,
I had this feeling it was one I should know.
From back in grade school, as a child or teen,
or on some old television show.

She had a face like that of an angel,
A smile warm and serene.
Her skin was white and fair like alabaster,
A beautiful pretty princess or queen.

Then the thought suddenly hit me.
This was the face of a girl I knew.
Her and her little twin brother Jody,
In a swanky apartment on 5th Avenue.

I remember she had a doll, that wore silly glasses
and had her same style of hair.
I think she called her doll Mrs. Beasley,
You know? I think we have that same doll somewhere.

My wife and I met under peculiar circumstances,
A blind date, that single men have long feared.
When she told me her dad was also her uncle,
I just thought that it was sort of weird.

It turned out her brothers had once been her cousins,
Her parents had gotten divorced.
She had recently split from her first husband,
I didn't think it could get any worse.

So I married that girl despite all her baggage,
There was something definitely at play.
It might have been kismet or fate that grabbed us,
All I know is I loved her and needed someplace to stay.

Sometimes, though, it seems more than coincidence,
My wife's pictures in pigtails and sandy blonde hair.
Reflect a certain uncanny resemblance,
To that little girl from the show Family Affair.

She, brother Jody and her teen sister Sissy,
Were the wards of their Uncle Bill's care.
Butler Giles French and their 27A apartment,
Graced the 60's Monday night prime time air.

I admit as a youngster I was often quite smitten,
With that girl and her mesmerizing stare.
When I first met my wife I was caught love-bitten
By this girl's similar tantalizing flair.

When Buffy died, many cried,
Her fans mourned and were all quite saddened,
She had brightened the rooms of many homes.
Sometimes I wonder if it all really happened.
It crosses my mind, as thoughts start to roam.
Am I the one blind? Is her cover blown?
I think I married Anissa Jones.



Copyright © November 2009
Kevin Mooney

Let's Fall In Love Again

I cherish my life,
It's not perfect you see,
I've got more than most,
Its been good enough for me.

Sure I've had my shares,
Of mistakes and regrets,
There are things out there,
That I'd rather forget.

But when you get right down to it,
Reflect and ponder through it,
I think that most folks would agree,

The life that I've had,
Is not all that bad,
It's the epitome of what most men dream.

If I could live through it again,
Go back and redo it again,
If given a chance for reprieve.

I'd do it the same again,
Play my life's game again,
With contentment and sheer modesty,

I'd relive all moments,
With sober atonement,
Retrace every life step I see.

I'd walk the same path,
Without questions asked,
Take the road that brought my wife to me.

Let's fall in love again,
Live through it all again.
Go back to the beginning and see.
All of the moments that brought us together,
Those moments with just you and me.

Let's rebuild our love again,
Stronger than it's ever been,
A fortress forged solid and lovingly.

Let's conceive again,
Replant life's seeds again,
Stand by conjoined faithfully.

Let's fall in love again,
Watch our kids crawl again,
Not try to change that meant to be.

Lets reflect and recall again,
Our Family's big and small again,
Hold hands through pained sorrow soberly.

We'll treasure it all again,
Friends' visits and calls again,
Recreate memories of how a good life should be.

Let's wade through it all again,
Stand firm and, not fall again,
Embrace our predestiny.

Let's live Springs and Falls again,
Watch kids grow tall again,
Become the proud reflections we see.

Let's toast to it all again,
Bow to fate's call again,
Follow God's will and our dreams.

Let's fall in love again,
Live through it all again.
Let's re-fall in love, you and me.



Copyright © October 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
101809

Grow Old With Me

To my beloved wife Tracey. She completes me...


Come and sit beside me,
Let's reflect a while.
Your presence is so soothing,
I've always loved your smile.

Our worlds are ever changing,
A perpetual turnstile.
Life's been entertaining,
I've cherished every mile.

As our years are waning,
It's more plain to see,
We're jointly self-sustaining,
Together meant to be.

So grasp my hand firmly,
As we near the setting sun,
Side by side we'll journey,
Not as two, but one.

And as we near the pinnacle,
Of our co-eternal quest,
Take solace in the knowledge,
Together we are best.

For each and every by-way,
From here to eternity,
Will grace our voyage sky-way,
As you grow old with me.


Happy Valentine's Day.

Copyright © September 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm030
093009

Happy Mother's Day Tracey

Note, this poem is an acrostic. Messages are formed with both the first letters and last letters of every stanza.

Acrostically Faithful and True



To my beloved wife,
Revered soul-mate for life.
Angelic best friend,
Colloquial blend.
Entrusted confidante,
Yearned for Godsend...

Fateful acquaintance,
Alluring prospect.
Impermeable abidance,
Tempting veneer,
Humble adorn,
Fancy proforma,
Untethered zeal.
Lustfully formal,
Loquaciously Shy.
Youthfully coy,
Truthful pseudo.
Respect-ant Adieu,
Ufettered flair.
Explicit rendezvous.

Together we're one,
Ordinarily content.
Lovingly pure,
Oz-like ardour.
Voracious discern,
Exuberant karma.
Facetious appeal,
Audacious, surreal.
Impermeable sincerity,
Translucently superb.
Heavenly delightful,
Fervent allure.
Unbridled bliss,
Longingly sensuous.
Laughter demure,
Yearningly adored.

The years past form a lifelong daydream,
Reflections of good-times gone by,
Allusions to events, a time-capsule surreal,
Collective freeze-frames of memories ago.
Every moment preserved like a show on TV.
You're my rock, my salvation, my own mistletoe.

In the time since I met you,
Life's been blessed from get-go.
Often extraordinary,
Victorious resolve,
Enjoyable improv.
You're my numero uno
One love, true and faithful,
Unmistakable alibi.


Copyright © June 2009
Kevin Mooney

Acrostically Faithful and True

Note, this poem is an acrostic. Messages are formed with both the first letters and last letters of every stanza.


To my beloved wife,
Revered soul-mate for life.
Angelic best friend,
Colloquial blend.
Entrusted confidante,
Yearned for Godsend...

Fateful acquaintance,
Alluring prospect.
Impermeable abidance,
Tempting veneer,
Humble adorn,
Fancy proforma,
Untethered zeal.
Lustfully formal,
Loquaciously Shy.
Youthfully coy,
Truthful pseudo.
Respect-ant Adieu,
Ufettered flair.
Explicit rendezvous.

Together we're one,
Ordinarily content.
Lovingly pure,
Oz-like ardour.
Voracious discern,
Exuberant karma.
Facetious appeal,
Audacious, surreal.
Impermeable sincerity,
Translucently superb.
Heavenly delightful,
Fervent allure.
Unbridled bliss,
Longingly sensuous.
Laughter demure,
Yearningly adored.

The years past form a lifelong daydream,
Reflections of good-times gone by,
Allusions to events, a time-capsule surreal,
Collective freeze-frames of memories ago.
Every moment preserved like a show on TV.
You're my rock, my salvation, my own mistletoe.

In the time since I met you,
Life's been blessed from get-go.
Often extraordinary,
Victorious resolve,
Enjoyable improv.
You're my numero uno
One love, true and faithful,
Unmistakable alibi.


Copyright © June 2009
Kevin Mooney

Cyber Queen

I met her today in a virtual world,

We spoke of days gone by.
There was something about the way she wrote,
That eventually caught my eye.

She lived somewhere, far away,
A place I had never seen,
It seemed as if she sat right there,
On my computer screen.

Reality bends and twists one's mind,
It makes one stop and think.
How can a person feel so real,
When accessed through a link.

We talked forever, exchanged our names,
We were both caught up in the scene.
Life feels so perfect, seems surreal,
When your in love with a cyber queen.


Copyright © June 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
060109

Don't Pretend

At times the world's a mystery,
Realities our minds do bend.
Illusions deceive,
In yourself believe,
For God's sake, don't pretend.

Jackson Browne sang of a Pretender,
A long, lonely life he did lead.
A dreamer can't feel,
Things that are real,
It's security and confidence you need.

With me you'll have the courage,
Self-confidence 'till the end,
Your friendship I'll always treasure,
Best friends forever?
Together we've no need to pretend.


Copyright © May 2009
Kevin Mooney

Sue (A Cinderella Poem)

Poems have lost their appeal,
They seem reluctant in what they reveal.
For me it's simply not true,
I'm still one of the few,
Who writes just what I feel.

I once met a girl named Sue,
Through someone that neither of us knew.
It occurred one night at a dance,
A classic old-time romance,
In the Rathskeller at George Mason U.

At first I was a little bit scared,
"Would you like to dance? No, I don't dare."
Then she turned to me,
And like the red sea,
My fears parted with that first little stare.

I could see she was no ordinary girl,
To me she stood out like a pearl.
She wore elegant glasses,
One of those sophisticated lasses,
And her hair was all done in curls.

We danced and we talked about school,
This little lady was nobody's fool,
Straight A's, a science major,
Not even I could upstage her,
And to think, I only came to shoot pool.

She attended a local college I found,
A small school outside of Charles Town,
She was older in years,
Which didn't help my fears,
As I asked her to write her number down.

As the evening approached it's end,
She said she'd be home every weekend,
She rose with the last song,
And put her long coat on,
The question in my mind was when?

Like Cinderella she flew,
As she did, there was one thing I knew.
Though we parted,
Something has started,
Between me and a girl named Sue.


Copyright © May 1980
Kevin Mooney

kmm001

050180