Letter From Home
There was a storm
Last night
Lightning and wind
Darkness rumbling through the air
Today, as I drove
Highway 9,
Ola to Morrilton,
I was seduced
Again
By blue sky
Like ocean plains
And clouds born of some artist’s brush
Casting shadows
On the hills
Painting the trees
Light green here
Dark green there
Rolling the hills
Back from the rice fields
Flooded with mirrors
A chicken house
Arthritic With disrepair
Its tin roof
Bleeding rust
A grain colored horse tail
Threshing flies
If I could see them,
They would glint
June Bug Green
Or Electric Blue
My eyes
And my heart
Were intoxicated
By the beauty
Of the everyday
Decay
And I thought of you
I am here
My feet on the ground
I am home
You should come home
Dat’s good. 99.9% of amateur peevulating is drivel but nary a false note there. Ya must a got lucky.
ya writed that all by yer lonesome? Damn, you’re some broad. Im’a see the chief this Saturday evensong and Ima give him the 'ol “hands off!” spiel. That’s really a nice wee thing you done there.
[quote=“sandman”]ya writed that all by yer lonesome? Damn, you’re some broad. Im’a see the chief this Saturday evensong and Ima give him the 'ol “hands off!” spiel. That’s really a nice wee thing you done there.
[/quote]
Lovely photo!
Why you worried about Chiefy’s hands? He told me he always washes good before he gets you drunk and starts feeling you up.
I’m glad you like my little poem. I like it, too, to be honest. I was kind of hoping The Gingerman would think it passes muster. ‘nd I just thought some o’ yous might be able to relate a bit.
[quote=“housecat”][quote=“sandman”]ya writed that all by yer lonesome? Damn, you’re some broad. Im’a see the chief this Saturday evensong and Ima give him the 'ol “hands off!” spiel. That’s really a nice wee thing you done there.
[/quote]
Lovely photo!
Why you worried about Chiefy’s hands? He told me he always washes good before he gets you drunk and starts feeling you up.
I’m glad you like my little poem. I like it, too, to be honest. I was kind of hoping The Gingerman would think it passes muster. ‘nd I just thought some o’ yous might be able to relate a bit.[/quote]
Tell you what, darlin,
While I’m a-drinkin’ with him,
I’ll be a-thinkin’ about you
Now that’s a fuckin poem.
Yours is good, too, honey, but there’s no whiskey or Mama in it and no-one gets thrown out the house for comin home drunk and stinkin of cheap whores…
I’m funnin you, sugar, it’s as pretty as a picture, thanks for sharing.
If Snadman knew how to speak English, he’d probably really really like it.
I’ll try and 'splain it to him on Saturday…