for Arthur Freeman
Pigfoot (with Aces Under) Passes

The heat’s on the hooker.   
Drop’s on the lam.
Cops got Booker.
Who give a damn?

The Kid’s been had   
But not me yet.
Dad’s in his pad.   
No sweat.

Margaret Are You Drug

Cool it Mag.
Sure it’s a drag
With all that green flaked out.
Next thing you know they’ll be changing the color of bread.

But look, Chick,   
Why panic?
Sevennyeighty years, we’ll all be dead.

Roll with it, Kid.   
I did.
Give it the old benefit of the doubt.

I mean leaves   
You sure you aint just feeling sorry for yourself?


Lamb, what makes you tick?
You got a wind-up, a Battery-Powered,   
A flywheel, a plug-in, or what?
You made out of real Reelfur?
You fall out the window you bust?   
You shrink? Turn into a No-No?
Zip open and have pups?

I bet you better than that.
I bet you put out by some other outfit.
I bet you don’t do nothin.   
I bet you somethin to eat.

Daddy Gander’s New Found Runes

Rain, rain, grow the hay.
Grow the weeds another day.   
If I die before I wake,
Skip it.

Little Boy Blue come blow.
   Can’t Man; learning a new instrument.
What’s with the old one? Where’d you get the new one?   
   Found it in a haystack Man.

Old Mother Hubbard,   
Decently covered,
Went to her final reward.

She had to laugh.   
Manger was half   
Empty and half kennel.

Ol’ Shep. At it   
Again. Livin’ on   

I fired a missile up.
It came down maybe.
Maybe it stayed up.
Things aint much like they used to be.
Note to Poetry Out Loud students: This poem begins with an epigraph that must be recited. Omitting the epigraph will affect your accuracy score.
  • George Starbuck, “Translations from the English” from The Works: Poems Selected from Five Decades. Copyright © 2003 by University of Alabama (Tuscaloosa). Reprinted with the permission of The University of Alabama Press.

  • Source: The Works: Poems Selected from Five Decades (2003)

Poet Bio

What People are Saying

"I learned that I had the ability to capture the attention of an audience and evoke emotion from them. When I recited my first poem in 9th grade for a mock POL class competition, I was incredibly shy and barely audible. But eventually I grew to love sharing the emotions poems gave me."
Chiara Raimondo
2016 NY POL Champion