HORN-RIMMED GLASSES

glassesLyric by Walter J. Wojtanik

So you ain’t twenty-twenty,
but girl that ain’t no shame,
’cause the truth of it, Honey,
is I’ve learned to play the game.
Seeing is believing,
and girl I see it clear,
looks can be deceiving,
come and sit yourself right here…

I think you’re so damn pretty
and I love your big blue eyes,
but living in the city
has you wearing this “disguise”.
And those guys aren’t seeing
all the beauty that you do,
and the way that they’re being
you would think it might be true…

You know they say men don’t make passes
at girls wearing horn-rimmed glasses,
but maybe the masses just
don’t know what they’ve been missin’
Brothers, I’ll be kissin’ them
and steaming up their lenses,
the difference ‘tween them girls is
while yours is cleaning contact lenses
I’ll be making contact friends
with the girl, with the girl, with the girl
with the horn-rimmed glasses.

So don’t fret a thing dear
for you know they aren’t too bright,
when we’re doin’ our thing dear
they’ll be home alone at night.
Yes, seeing is believing,
and I believe I’ve won the prize,
your sighs are relieving,
seeing you with my four-eyes…

          She’ll be seeing clearer,
          the closer I get near her,
          and pretty soon I’ll hear her
          whispering my name…

You know they say men don’t make passes
at girls wearing horn-rimmed glasses,
but maybe the masses just
don’t know what they’ve been missin’
Brothers, I’ll be kissin’ them
and steaming up their lenses,
the difference ‘tween them girls is
while yours is cleaning contact lenses
I’ll be making contact friends,
with the girl, with the girl, with the girl
with the horn-rimmed glasses.

Making eyes with the girl
in the horn-rimmed glasses.

HE HAS HIS MOTHER’S EYES

This sad smile has come honestly
from trial and error, and every glaring
mistake, was one made in
denial of all that I could be,
this ersatz writer; poetic-wanna-be.
But, if it’s in me, it must be true.

And these ears appear to me
to be oversized and the wisest explanation
comes from the frantic tug
by the nuns in school; a rule of thumb
and forefinger, and the lengthening
seems to linger longer, the stronger they were.

This chin has seen its share
of craggy facial hair and crass pokes
with close fists; a glass jaw
that any southpaw could crack
and still lack the seven years bad luck.
The jawbone of this ass was not meant to cushion.

The protruding proboscis is not worth a damn.
The only thing this nose knows
is how to sniff out the business
in which it did NOT belong. The road less traveled
is straighter and more true in comparison
to this garrison of snot and sniffles.

But the one attribute I possess that I cannot despise,
is the sight I’ve seen through my mother’s eyes.
With every vision and cry she expended
in her unending heart, I start to appreciate
the gravity her shoulders carried; the gift
she bestowed on me at birth. Everything I see inspires me.

All that went into me as far as these eyes can see
are all the things that bring an albeit sad smile to my face.
And in case you wonder, that is purely me!

Written for WE WRITE POEMS – PROMPT # 108 – FACE UP TO IT