Sputtering and gurgling, growling and flushing,
Slurping, gargling, and now getting hot,
Spitting and spewing, aesthetics eschewing,
Chugging and heaving, while grumbling a lot.
Then advanced stages of bubbling and rumbling,
Cataclysmic gyrations and belchings displayed,
Then quieted down, the dark liquid of brown,
The beast is exhausted, but coffee is made.
(Oh Lord, I'm good!) Flaming Marshmallow
rogues' gallery
GOODBYE GOODNIGHT
It is time,
time to go,
don't ask me how,
I just know,
Im sorry dear,
I love you so,
but I know,
it's time to go.
It's time to leave,
it's time to break,
right here right now,
my hearts at stake,
I'll see you some day,
make no mistake,
but right here right now,
it's time to break.
It's time to say,
goodbye goodnight,
let's not leave it,
with a fight,
you'll know someday,
that I am right,
now it's time to say,
goodbye goodnight.
Michelle Williamson
rogues' gallery
REPLY TO A CRITIC
I once asked for council, among my friends and neighbors,
To help me sort what might be good about my hobby labours.
The sketches were not done right, the wine too sweet or dry,
My photographs were kind of cute but not quite touch the sky.
Look for an unknown color, not in rainbow hew.
Hear soft morning mist and taste green meadow dew.
Faeries laugh and Angels sing if you will do your part.
This is the best that I can do. Please smile, you dour fart.
Uncle Pecos Bill
mug shot
Joy
Do not my joy thou begrudge,
Ecstacy of heaven I feel is nigh,
Lo and verily I made the fudge,
And I am on a sugar-high.
Annie Allen Poe
(aka Flaming Marshmallow)
(aka Granny Annie)
rogues' gallery
MORNIN' IN THE DESERT
Mornin' in the desert, and the wind is blowin' free.
And its ours, first for the breathin', so let's go, you and me.
No more stuffy cities, where you have to pay to breath.
Where the helpless human creature move and throng and strive.
Mornin' on the desert, and the air is like a wine.
And it seems like all creation has been made for me and mine.
No house to stop our vision, save a neighbor's miles away
And the little adobe shanty that could be yours and mine.
Lonesome? Not for a minute! Why, I've got the mountains here,
That were put here just to please me with their blush and frown and cheer.
They're waitin' when the summer sun gets too sizzling hot,
And we just go campin' in 'em with a pan an' coffee pot.
Mornin' on the desert — I can smell the sagebrush smoke.
I hate to see it burnin', but the land must be broke.
Ain't it just a pity that wherever man may live,
He tears up much that's beautiful that God has to give?
Sagebrush ain't so pretty? Well, all eyes don't see the same.
Have you ever seen the moonlight turn it into a silvery flame?
An' that greasewood thicket yonder — it smells just awful sweet.
When the night wind has been shakin' it, its smell is hard to beat.
Lonesome? I guess not! I've been lonesome in a town.
But I sure do love the desert with its stretches wide and brown.
All day through the sagebrush here the wind is blowin' free,
And it's ours just for the breathin', so lets go, you and me.
Señora Betty Franklin
portrait
SPRING TIME
Gosh, Sweet Heart, please let me go —
Bass are striking now you know.
And if you'll let me go today,
Next time you can have your way.
Please don't get mad and scold me so.
Gosh! Oh! Gosh! I want to go.
You remember late last fall,
The time I went with brother Paul,
Down to the hole with all the springs,
Rocks, roots, logs and other things.
There's where I hooked that big old bass
Out by the lilies – but alas,
That fish he sure went on the prod;
Broke my leader and cracked my rod.
Please, my dearie, may I go now?
My tackle will get him sure, and how!
And gee, oh boy, my new Shakespeare
will hold him tight. Thank you my dear.
I'll bring him home, that old bronze back,
For the leader will hold and my rod won't crack.
Albert Franklin (Bill Wheat's grandpa)
picture
THE TIME IS NOW
If you are ever going to love me,
Love me now, while I can know
The sweet and tender feeling
Which from true affection flow.
Love me now while I am living.
Do not wait until I'm gone
And then have it chiseled in marble,
Sweet words on ice-cold stone.
If you have tender thoughts of me,
Please tell me now.
If you wait until I am sleeping,
Never to awaken,
There will be death between us,
And I won't hear you then.
So, if you love me, even a little bit,
Let me know it while I am living
So I can treasure it.
Janet K. Franklin
rogues' gallery
PEACHY
Leaning over the kitchen sink,
Juice dripping off my chin,
The peaches are just wonderful
Thus my euphoric, juicy grin.
Annie
mug shot
music by Allan Clapp
(rights reserved)
3 June 01
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