COLD NIGHT

 

“I am feeling cold and old”,

 the husband spoke.

“Then sit by the fire and hold a child”,

said his wife.

The husband sat by the fire and held a child.

“I am feeling better now”,

 the husband replied.

“I told you so”,

 Said his wife,

Then she cut her throat with a knife.

 

Merry Christmas

NoT piEs iN tHe SkY
bUt BriGhT ChRiStMaS oRnAmEnTs
HeAvEn’S jEwELrY

EL DORA

I'm doing it once again.  I've posted the same poem again.

  I found this picture and had to have it for this poem that I wrote over thirty years ago.

VERBAL BLUNDER

Thursday, April 22, 2010

EL DORA

Infinity's rainbow
Scattered flowers

Across the mountain

Mornings sang
Stars smiled

A river flowed

Across my eyes

Broken corners
Of the heart rose.

---

Written While Listening To Mozart's Flute Concertos 1&2

I discovered this painting tonight, and it made me remember a strange thing that I wrote years ago. Vanity doesn't prevent me from posting it again.

By Gustave Moreau



Dedicated to Peace

The padishah was riding on a bright and
Bejeweled packsaddle, but he really
Preferred to be behind a holy paddle-wheel.

The padishah was riding on a bright and
Bejeweled packsaddle, but it was his friend
The paddock that he sat upon,
Out of its home and free to roam,
Like some hungry pagan in ancient Rome.

The padishah was riding on his bright and
Bejeweled packsaddle,
Singing a paen of peace as he gently
Paddywhacked his friend the paddock.

Both were searching for a padre to give them
Some warm paddy to feast upon.
The padishah was riding on his bright and
Bejeweled packsaddle,
Like a hopeful paladin,
Riding through the
World's palace of sin.