Her mother was walking the dog
Pursued by a pot belly hog
But in the fog
She kissed a frog
According to Miss Polly Wogg . . . .
Lindsay dear friend are you OK,
Australia is a long way away,
I’ll gladly paddle right across the pond,
If with a poem you soon don’t respond!
I was five, you, ten years older
And you had me straddling
The saddle of your broad shoulders
You, charging like a stallion, around
The suburban garden, sun-bright.
Me, so high above the ground
Screaming with panic and delight
Trying, through my laughter,
To shout out, “Left!”, “No Right!”
To avoid the near disaster
Of crashing through the monstera
Or the jacaranda
Or of toppling into the drive.
Like everything you did for me
There was an element of a lesson
But I still get my left and right confused sometimes
And I still feel the need to have you save me from the monsteras.
© Barry Freeman 24th April 2021
She floats about on dancer toes
She spins and splits
and dips and flows
She glides and tips
She hops and lifts
She twirls and tucks
then stops and ducks
She moves around
in leaps and bounds
and flies aloft
(but comes back down)
It's true!
That Lindsay loves to please
She knows her art implicitly
For if you ask,
she needs not guess
Her pirouette
from arabesque!
My Love, Lindsay
Your skin glows like the sunshine,
blossoms different as the rose in the purest hope of spring.
My yearning heart rises to your soft voice
leaps like a snow white tiger at the whisper of your name, Lindsay.
The evening ascends in on a raven's wing.
I am calmed by your beating heart that I carry into the twilight of homebeams and hold next to my lips.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of sadness.
As my eyes falls from the deepness in yours,
it reminds me of the love we share
In the hushed, I listen for the last screams of the spring.
My hands reach to cup your beautiful face.
I wait in the crystal moonlight for your hand
so that we may walking as one
Hand in Hand
in search of the glorious rainbow and spiritual dreams of love.
Know a sweet Aussie lady with two first names
Her parents were the ones that were really to blame
Didn't read the rules
Had it tough in school
But my limerick will bring her fortune and fame
© Jack Ellison 2015
Lindsay Lais was an attractive lassie who feared for her life;
Whose life was appalling that she’d always carried a knife –
Everywhere she went she was jumpy and full of fright,
And she would never walk in the eve, in the fading light.
She was friends with nobody; never could she share her anguish,
Nor could she tell anyone of her pain and fear or her inherent wish.
It was one dewy morning when I first saw her cry –a rare phenomenon;
In fact, even when she was upset or hurt she never wept till that morn:
And the dreaded tears from her eyes, dropping like spring dew –
It was surrealistic, for those who could make her weep were very few.
And surprisingly, her tears were not full of sadness but full of empty joy,
Just because she had lost her beau and then met another boy.
And now all her fears have gone AWOL, like a winter sun –
Ever since she had met this new guy who has a gun.
Lindsay is trouble
She had the world by a string,
Do you know what's wrong?
Dear Mr. Charlie Sheen.
Incredibly inebriated and mean.
Locked her in a closet.
Hope he gave her a deposit.
Dear Ms. Lindsay Lohan,
you need a new life plan.
Betty Ford doesn't think this is a joke,
so lay off the coke.
When it came to Lindsay Lohan, I once believed in her.
I was dead wrong when I thought she could be a winner.
I wrote to her and offered her friendship when she was going through hard times.
I used to think she was the greatest but now I think she's slime.
I wrote her several times and sent her two gifts and I didn't even get a thank you note.
If I had it to do over again, I wouldn't have sent her the letters that I wrote.
She ignored me and she doesn't desrve the fame that she's got.
I used to route for her but now as far as I'm concerned, she can rot.