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Marry?!! Some dopey farm girl with a country bumpkin accent!!? Nope, dont do nuffin for me.
Besides, been married, got stung, too sad, lost half me house and the carry on films on vhs! Never again. Farm girl with straw in her hair and big tits isnt gonna change that pledge!!! 
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a preview of a thread i will soon start:
Time Kills Critics
By Bruce Richard Marshall
From Liszt, Franz to Zimmer, Hans
Critical pans
Mar many eras, many lands
Forces of reaction gain short lived traction
Swept up in history's dust pans.
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Looking forward to the rest of the poem, Bruce.
..
Poem is finished and revised. Am pozting a prose version next.
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Posted: |
Mar 1, 2018 - 11:24 PM
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By: |
joan hue
(Member)
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EACH EGG
Rapping on the kitchen window,
my daughter holds up an egg for my inspection.
“It fell from the tree when I mowed around it.”
Like my daughter’s eyes, it is a perfect egg,
oval, a cleansed sky silver blue.
“Can’t find the nest. What’ll I do now?”
I said, “Leave it. Nothing else to do.”
She cradles it in her palm, eyes beseeching
me to avoid this unjust miscarriage.
Could she remember the seventh week after
her conception my tennis game and jarring jump?
Thin red snakes edged down my thighs
signaling her early fall.
Doctor called it nature’s ways, His will
and ordered me to return to the tennis courts.
There would be other tries.
But then I recognized the caprice of jumps, droughts in winter,
and the randomness of lawnmowers’ paths.
I gave up the game, laid down,
propping my feet skywards and
she came.
I leave dirty dishes stacked in the sink, hopeful
we will discover haystack nests in our apple tree.
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Oops, I misunderstood, Bruce. I like the "dust pan" image.
I just changed it to "trash cans"
Which do u prefer?
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