August 24, 2006
-
- – - – - Man The Watch Tower – - – - -
Our city fathers,
With whims of steel,
Do not give us our rawthers,
But have such a weird feel.
Immigration from the sky,
And they come here not to work,
But are much like I,
Such activity they shirk.
And choose to nudely prance,
In such a public place,
And do dance,
With little grace.
Oh what’s next,
Say I,
There seems to be no text,
Gotta check with the steely whimish guy.
Maybe the Big Blue Bear will eat ‘em . . . . . . . . .
Comments (8)
The picture and the poem together are excellent.
Sorry, I have no clue on how to find a hand mirror like that. lol
Art is in the eye of the beholder…or, one I prefer: Art is whatever you can get away with.
What does this statue mean ? I don’ t know . In any case it inspires you !
In friendship
Michel
They are very nice so light and white, like butterflies
Your distinct and fascinating outlook combined with your wisdom and whimsy is why I return to your poetry time and time again. Thank you! ~ Jeanne
I love how you so often add a picture with the poem. It really helps give the reader (in this case, me!) a feeling of connection with the writer (you!).
There is something I have been wanting to ask you – ever since you wrote a picture about the three ladies (the statuettes or whatever they might be called, that you found in, I think, Japan?) I’ve been thinking about them. And I was curious – why were you traveling? Have you named them? Do you ever find yourself thinking of them as if they are animate (to a certain extent)? Were they the only set at the place you bought them from? If not why did you choose them, if you did choose them purposely?
yours truly,
- Emily
*correction: You wrote a POEM not a PICTURE. haha, sorry. I meant to say, you wrote a poem about them & showed a picture.
They do have an “alien” look to them, don’t they? They look like they are trying to get the mothership’s attention! Perhaps to get them out of there—–or to send some more down to take over the world.