lives in the State of Michigan
and thinks about her future plan.
At thirteen it is really time
that she consider how to climb
but not to Mount Achievus, no
I think she’ll leave that to a pro.
We at P/H do know her mother
and figure that you’ll be the other
great soul within your family,
(of course, Bro Chase may not agree) ,
so, with much joy we wish to you
all happiness from all the crew
the number thirteen is a start
next year we’ll call you our sweet heart.
to octopus and chestnut pieall things that would be, to a guyquite non-essential but a must.It was designed to end all frustthrough its exotic qualitiesand rather inexpensive fees.When in the morning Joe stopped inthe farmer’s kids restocked the binand on a perch above the eggsa parrot, who had hairy legswas sitting and reciting stuff.The Farmer’s…
is the life of the hare not worth MUCH, is it thenand the mouse and its cousins are now rarely seen.In the month of July when the rivers run drywhen the gnu and the wildebeest flee,when the crocodiles groan and the hippos march bycomes the African killer bee.And the elephants smash all the coconuts nowto…
The forecast had announced some showersthus, in the early morning hoursthe signal came from higher upthat all the drops jump off the top.Two oval shaped good looking dropstook off their speedos and their topsand slowly went up to the edgewhen one of them said ‘I do pledgeto never misbehave again’,the other answered ‘count to ten.’They…
Was flying in from just above the waves.And, when he saw me hebegan to shout.His voice was swelling with,what seemed like pride.Well, then I saw it:He was with fish,a big one, too.Was dragging down his wingssome as he flew.How strange how Mother Naturewould assume,that fish would want –before he goes for dinner,go for a ridelike…
became aware he had been dealta blow below his holy belt.For years he had -in secret- feltthat Chastity was just a belt.
the sound of drumsand healthy tunesis just a side effect, a signand its significance benign.So let your grandpa chew his prunesbetween his battle-hardened gumshe’s left behind so many moonsand as he sits and gently hums,he feels the prunes slip down the lineuntil it’s time, for rise and shine.A poem talking of the gutswould be of…
