Frog sits still
Frog sits still
I like Wallace McCrae's poetry:
Reincarnation By Wallace McCrae
"What is reincarnation, a cowboy asked his friend. Why its something that happens when your life has reached its end. They comb your hair and wash your neck and clean your fingernails, And lay you in a padded box away from life's travails.
Now this box and you goes in a hole that's been dug into the ground. And this here reincarnation starts once your planted 'neath the mound.' Now pretty soon the clods melt down along with the box and you who are inside, and then your just beginning on your transformation ride.
And then one day some grass will grow upon rendered mound. Until one day, on your moldered grave a little flower is found. Then say by chance a horse should wander by and graze upon that flower, That once was you and now has become your vegetative bower.
Now the posy that that horse done ate along with all the rest of his feed, becomes fat and bone and muscle, essential to the steed.
But some is consumed that he can't use and so it finally passes on through, And just lays there on the ground. This thing that once was you. And then I see's this on the ground, and I wonder and I ponder at this object that I found.
And I begin to think about reincarnation and life and death and such. And I come away concluding old pal, You ain't changed that much!"
Spare ... Child
'Spare the rod, spoil the child,'
smiled the suited man
behind his Bible,
through bottle-bottom glasses.
Congregation nodded, staring,
preparing for the after-meeting beating.
I wrote this when I was at school back in 1972:
Teapots are poor
When they pour
The leafs they strain
So out the train
They are thrown
And through my granny's door.
Chorus: Rule Britania. Paul Jackson age 14
I heard a chuckle
the god of haiku must laugh
or is that the wind
The man in the dock
was picking his nose like fury,
rolled it into little balls
and flicked it at the jury.
the jury fled
the chairs tipped over
the judge turned red
the trials over
This is an example of a poetry form called etheree. The syllable count on each line ranges from 1-10, or 10-1 if preferred. I can't centre text on here so imagine it centred:
Suffer Little Children
Predictions of apocalypse abound.
Terrify your toddlers lest they leave.
Immerse them in the name of men,
drunk with dreams, blood-sodden thugs,
from misleading mouths.
You prey on babes
Nice. Keep 'em coming