Posts Tagged ‘children’

baby be good

baby be good, baby be nice
baby don’t make me have to ask you twice
if you’d behave i would pay any price
baby be good,
baby be nice

all through the nighttime you holler and wail
keeping me trapped in a sleep deprived jail
are you just bored or do you truly ail?
baby so fragile,
baby so frail

baby i’m begging you down on all fours
what can i give to make you stop these roars?
if i must, my onion bagel is yours
baby contented,
finally snores

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16

07 2009


by andy
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You Asked Me to Bagel-Sit

You asked me to bagel-sit,
so why is it that
you’re shocked to come home
from the place you’ve been at,
To find that your saucy-tongued
onion-filled brat
has been flattened and splattened
like a pestering gnat?

You asked me to bagel-sit;
upon him I sat.

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05

07 2009


by andy
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Round – A Round Sung in Three Parts, Preferably Not by a Chorus of Schoolchildren

I love you, bagel
So round and plump,
Your curvy onionness
Makes my heart thump,
Sometimes I wish that we
Could hump,
My bagel
Round and plump

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02

07 2009


by andy
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slow train to reno

yessir, this train is headed west, it is
but don’t think it’ll make it there today
i hear new fangled engines, they just whiz
but this one’s like the ones from yesterday

there’s men who poke the fires with a mace
and carry heavy loads across their back
they bake and boil at a steady pace
and shovel ‘til their fingernails turn black

and when our speed picks up it sure don’t last
‘cuz there’s too many stops along the line
compared to this you’d think that it was fast
to go watch onions ripen on the vine

now don’t go conversatin’ that i’m lyin’
‘cuz some book told you onions grow in dirt
i seen ‘em fall from trees ready fer fryin’
as sure as i am wearin’ this here shirt

you kids today think nothin’s left to learn
from folks like me who’ve fully aged and grown
you just don’t seem to even give a durn
‘bout letting us talk circles all alone

to speak of circles you should oughtta’ know
around this turn you’ll wanna’ peel yer eye
this train we’re on it goes so very slow
you’ll see the onion bagels tumblin’ by

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27

06 2009


by andy
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the truant

punk kid
slouching on the sidewalk
spitting
smoking
winging onion bagels
at the elderly

where’s your mother
anyway?

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08

06 2009


by andy
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time, cruel and heartless, what is it that you have done with my child?

my bagel used to be clean cut
he’d do as he was told
but since he started growing up
he’s gotten rather bold

he hangs out with these seedy types
and does distasteful things
like smoking back behind the school
and blowing onion rings

the girls he sees all have pierced holes
and smell distinctly stale
they look like they belong in some
two-week-old baked goods sale

he skipped his prom and passed out at
an all-night toaster rave
and came home sporting sideburns —
that’s just no way to behave!

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23

04 2009


by andy
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A Bitter Split

Although once inseparable,
things mightily changed
when the bottom smelled
suspiciously of onions

Top left the bread box
moved back with its folks

The crumbs are the ones
really suffering

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11

04 2009


by andy
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wichita, ks

i remember when this was just meadows
not a condo or strip mall in sight
just a colorful flash of birds’ feathers
and the flit of a young child’s kite

but change fluttered in with the winter wind
and onion seeds came along too
before i had reached my childhood’s end
fragrant bulbs frequently grew

these days the smell from the flour mill
brings the answer to every boy’s prayer
when crossing the field with your kite in tow
the bagels, sweet bagels are everywhere

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05

03 2009


by andy
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Rebirth of Bagel Boy

Don’t call me Bagel Boy, cried Bagel Boy to me
A request no self-respecting, self-conscious tween could heed
So we filled up his gym locker with sesame seeds
And we covered his textbooks with Neufchatel Cheese

Then we prank called his house and said Is your fridge running?
Since at that point we’d run out of bagel-themed ideas

Unlike us, however, this kid was quite cunning
‘Cause he came one schoolday dressed just like an onion
And we didn’t know what, but knew he was up to something
So we left him alone, too scared to make fun of him

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12

02 2009


by andy
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The Golden One

My father always told me “Onion bagels grow on trees”
And so I spent my school-age years amassing expertise
So I could scour the continents and sail the seven seas
Searching for the only plant that would my soul appease

As time elapsed the hope I had was pushed aside by doubt
For I’d found nothing even though I’d traveled all about
And so I grabbed my father and irately I did shout
He said “I meant to say they don’t – did I leave that word out?”

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08

02 2009


by andy
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