Tell A Tale of Tall Trees

[An exercise in cribbing another poem’s metrical patterns. – Owen]


Tell a tale of tall trees,
A thicket full of woe;
Shadows in the black land,
Miles yet to go.

When the shadows moved, then,
The earth began to see —
Wasn’t that the oddest place
For you and me to be?

For you were in your waiting-phase
Waiting in a fashion,
And I was in a torpor
Longing after passion,

So we were in the orchard
Looking for a sign,
When in came the locusts
Who drank all our wine.

If I Was In Charge

If I was in charge, the world would be much worse.

Chaotic and unfair, but — lots of verse.

I’d outlaw cold, give everyone a goat,

A house and drawbridge, over their own moat.

It know that it sounds stupid, overlarge —

Perhaps that’s why I’m never put

In charge


Photo credit : ID 84752491 Talashow | Dreamstime.com

Jennifer

(Note: this is not aimed at any particular Jennifer out there. It is, however, a true story about how weird I am.)

Jennifer

I was only five years old
And had a kind of crush
On this blonde girl named Jennifer
Who always made me blush

She was an older woman –
She was six, or maybe seven –
And as we’d play together
I could feel my young face redden

We moved away, as happens,
But as years went by I found
I still loved the name, “Jennifer”
It’s such a pretty sound

And when my teen years hit me
And the fantasies occurred;
If she was not someone I knew
She was named “Jennifer”

I don’t know why, it’s silly.
And, as such, it was my fate
To never meet a Jennifer –
Not one that I could date.

And then I met my true love,
And her name began with “J”;
And that, I thought, was close enough
To take it all the way.

Yet…

The boy somewhere inside me
5 years old, struck by romance –
Wanted to love a Jennifer
But never got his chance

The Panic Mutton

It’s time to hit the panic mutton.

What?

I mean, I’m a bundle of nerds.

Huh?

We’re all waiting here, with braided breath —

Come again?

Come on, you know what I’m talking about. We are all on tenderhooves here.

Sorry. What?

Oh, don’t be so tongue tight.

It is time to hit the panic mutton, I think.

Good. I’m glad we’re on the same wavelet.

Yes. Talk is sheep.

Magic Cats

It used to be, disorder was
The rule of my existence;
But then I found these magic cats,
And learned about persistence

They taught me about liberty,
And honor, and adventure:
I came to realize my life
Was little but indenture

A bit of sallow love within
A skin of pure corruption,
That I'd have stayed within, except
For their kind interruption

Some cannot see them, so they say
That this is all fantasia:
Or that I am imagining,
Or suffer from dysphasia

One of them traveled from Saint-Priest,
Another from Kamchatka,
Another from South Florida,
I think it's called Palatka

They said my spirit had a cold
And needed some ablation;
As stuck as I had been within
The concept of causation

And so I sold my house and land,
And traveled to Alsatia,
To find some Gentianaceae,
Perhaps some stray Sabbatia

For magic herbs and remedies,
And parts of geomancy,
Were just a bit of what they've taught -
Whatever's caught their fancy --

I travel now around the world
With these three as instructors:
And lead but half an orchestra
Like most semiconductors

If none of this makes sense to you,
And seems like thought transference,
Then find yourself some magic cats,
And we will reach concurrence 

Agreement: it's the end of life,
The start of life, its middle --
And every trio comes in threes,
It's just part of
The riddle