poetry

no-go-diggy-die

Of simplicity, the pigeon loves a windowed pie.

    The fidgety fox fondles the furtively turned fern—
From there, his dry eyes favor the neighbor’s wife;
        But akin the kakapo’s dislike to learn,
His little head puts at risk his too-picnicky life:

    A marauder of emotion, a joyless jackal;
His unnatural stink, stripe-to-skunk unique;
        He’s the ferret’s face, the black on a grackle,
And his unnatural slink is sidewinder-oblique.

    Of simplicity, the pigeon loves a windowed pie
And for pecks at the cherry will tuck a wing;
        No-go-diggy-die, he may be pie for the fly
When fevered fists and all fury fall in with his fling.


—an allegory for more than it would seem

 

12 comments on “no-go-diggy-die

  1. I had to look up grackle and kokopo. Being English, I’d never heard of either of them, so thought at first that it may be a nonsense rhyme, even though it made sense.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Grackles are well-known in my native Texas. They are harassingly obnoxious, visually discomforting, and I would never describe the noise they make as birdsong (my sincerest apologies, Robert Frost). More relevantly to the piece, they are opportunistic and, like crow but much less artful, they are blatantly aggressive thieves. As for the kakapo, I’ve met them only in zoos. But once you get past their odd looks, it’s important to understand that they are both flightless and of naturally limited intelligence…only because they live their lives absent a constant natural predatory challenge (save the occasional malicious human). In essence, they’ve become the easiest version of themselves. Works, perhaps, for the forgotten bird in New Zealand; but the heart of humankind has been thrown into the footstep of a wider, more contested, path. Every day, Jane, we as human beings forget our compasses and compassions…my fear is that, in so doing, we also will forget our wings and our direction.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Thank you… with that information, I’ll go and read your poem again

        Liked by 1 person

      • This poem is worthy of time spent looking up references. I Googled No-go-diggy-die, and found Jon Wayne’s song…
        Your comments are as well-penned as your poems.:
        “Every day, Jane, we as a people forget our compasses and compassions…my fear is that, in so doing, we also will forget our wings and our direction.”

        Liked by 1 person

      • I appreciate your resourcefulness, Jane! Jon Wayne was quite a quirky little underground band out of my neck of the woods when I was a kid…you’d typically not hear of them on the radio (for obvious reasons, if you’ve given them a listen). No-go-diggy-die speaks to the conundrum, and often the bigotry of ignorance, in even our simplest attempts to communicate with one another…or our refusal to.

        Liked by 1 person

      • I like the phrase. I think I’ll use it on my friends, and then refuse to explain what it means. I may go so far as to use it in totally inappropriate ways…

        Liked by 1 person

      • I hand-wringingly like your plan! There was once a period of time (I lean far away from the ‘seems like eons ago’ coloration) when a lifelong friend and I daily applied the phrase to anything and everything (with much added expletive flair, mind you). I think it’s long overdue a resurgence; it’s absolutely riddled with potentiality, and I have nothing but smirks and chuckles chained and locked to every single one of them.

        Liked by 1 person

      • I’ll follow your example, and try to do you proud.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Well, it certainly got inside my head!

    Liked by 1 person

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    Liked by 1 person

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