The Web Poetry Corner
The Web Poetry Corner
Ji-Parana, Rondonia, Brazil
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The day I picked your flesh away,
And kissed each sinew in my hand;
I’d envy every piece and say:
I’ll spare these bones from timely sand.
A promise, then, I would recall
And could not cast this from my mind;
When that one day I did avow:
I’ll always have you by my side.
I thought this promise I could keep,
Although the bones without your hide,
By pealing clean, then from this heap,
I’d glue then prop them up inside.
’Tis a romantic way to be
-Creative minds are hearts in love;
And clear to others this would be:
You are my one and truest Love.
But as I got your cage to clean,
I plucked a rib out form its clan;
And saw what I had never seen:
Wonder tokens in me ran!
Engraved as if ’twere etched by tool,
Initials of my idle name!
In all the lands where lives a fool
To find a rib with such a claim?
Your Soul, for mine, such love had grown
That a memorial it did seek;
And carved my name upon you bone
Before it left your flesh that week.
But please forgive me, Love, for I
Could not keep my vowel in whole;
And when that desperate day I die,
Spare that love upon my soul.
’Cause, for the stench, Oh! thoughtless stray,
I threw away your bones and all;
Yet swear by love that, to this day,
Your rib’s still bolted to my wall!
Jim and Jackalope Sam
Every night at about the very same hour,
From very old tombs of earth gone sour;
Two souls would awake
And sit by the lake
Where they’d laugh and jive ‘til the morning hour.
They’d laugh through the night at the very last day,
And laugh and scoff in a ghostly way;
The day that they fell,
The story retell,
And this is the story they’d say:
In a very dry place name Joan Diego,
A small, nameless town the people would go
And live drinking booze
--They’d nothing to lose,
Otherwise sit and watch the cactus grow.
But a one nameless day commotion did fan
When swinging doors squeaked and in walked a man;
A stranger was he,
But no other, you see,
Then the famous fast gun named Jackalope...Sam.
Well, he sauntered in and tipped down his hat,
Then juggled his belt up over his fat.
He stood there a while,
An awkward long while,
For I think he’d forgot where hew’s at.
Then finally there came an interesting note,
A very strange noise did rise from his throat.
The drunk bar did rock
With laughter and mock,
But fat Sam, like slate, stood clearing his throat.
When silence had fallen over at last,
Jackalope cried, with a squeak and a rasp,
"I know Sam you’re there
So rise from your chair!"
There was heard but a gag and a gasp.
Some fell off their chairs,
Some pulled off their hairs;
If gripped with fear
Or drunk from bear,
Or perhaps the combined affair...?
For some the time grew somber and grim,
For, for sure, there was more in this bar then one Jim!
‘Til stood up he,
No other, you see,
Then the famous fast gun named...Jim.
Now Jim was brisk and Jim was young,
He took a swig then filled his lung;
For with a tune
He’d make a boon,
And this is what the young Jim sung:
"See, I’ve made a vow with my booze and my saddle,
As sure as beast is longhorn is cattle;
I’d take a stand
With any hand!"
Brave he sung, not a one spur did rattle.
In no time walked both of them out in the street,
And behind them there came the hustling of feet.
The air was tense,
And so very tense,
Under the rays of the afternoon heat.
As tumbleweed after tumbleweed rolled by,
The stench grew very uncomfortably high;
For all the men sweated,
And some, nervous, wetted;
And oh how the smell drew the buzzing of flies.
The first, the second, the third hour passed;
And as the time drew, the tension amassed.
The third, the fourth, the fifth hour passed;
And as the stench grew, the buzzing amassed.
Well, ‘twas somewhere ‘round this time
When the orb of day dimmed in recline;
It drew out in shadows
The hands of two fellows
Which ne’er twitched...not ev’n to this time.
Still the sixth, the seventh, the eight hour passed;
Still the time grew and the tension amassed.
The eighth, the ninth, the tenth hour passed;
And as the night drew...it was then...
..it was then that it happened, in the light of moon’s yellow glow;
In that dry, nameless town where the cactuses grow;
Where they live drinking booze
And have nothing to lose,
And I’m sure you know how the story end goes....