SHRUB GIRL OF THE BIG NOSE


 SHRUB GIRL SNIFFS THEM OUT

Floppedy, flop, boppedy bop tripped along four

friends bound commonly to hear, to walk strong, to see

For now they learned the young girl rode in a pour

of  mystery duty abiding in midst of  friends to be.

Sudden was the brushing of needley short limbs of green

Against sides of donkey and stump just cresting a hill

Sudden was the sniffing and snuffling and wuffling so lean

Against shepherding crook and stalking root stopped in a thrill.

“What can mean this small green bush,this shrub in our way?”

hummed Shepherd of EyeCrook pointing the sight to Stumpy.

“What can mean this Shrub Girl tumbling off in stray?”

wheedled FloppyEared and Ridden Donkey to Woman Clumpy.

“Tho I Be Woman, I cannot put root to Shrub Girl reasoning,”

stamped out Stump Woman leading the way so trumping.

“So snuffle up to a floppy ear, bush girl, and give seasoning

“ramped out from ditch why you come nosing in our clumping.”

“Oh, most high flopping ears, most bent young girl, most seeing crook,

“Oh, most tight rooted  stump, know you not the scent of holiness;

“All bands of seekers must follow to reach the young girl’s place in the book,

“Oh, ho, know you not the scent of far spices marking the business?”

“Oh, I hear a new tune,” replied Flop Eared Boy.

“Oh, I tap into The Way,” replied Woman Stump.

“Oh, I hear my hoofs carry her”, replied Eary DonCoy.

“Oh, crook sees stall below, girl above,”replied ShepTrump.

“What you cannot hear. cannot stampfeel, cannot crooksee,

replied sniffing small green Shrub Girl in thrall.

“What you must let me smell is odor of angel looksee

“What you must have me sniffpoint is lamb small.”

“Wait!  How holy scent, angle odor mean this lamb?”

Wait!  How holy thing,angel thing,lamb thing in our quest?

“Oh,High Floppy,Low Stumpy, Strong Donk, LongEyeRamb,

“Know you not this Lamb wholly anointed at birth,angelsang at rest?”

“Oh, why we listen, why we stamp on road, why we crook-see?

“Why we sniff out holy anointing,sniff out choiring of a lamb?”

“Oh, hark, ye listeners,ye seekers,ye stampers!”

“Ye must find the place shielding birth of  your offered Lamb!

“What mean ye, our offered lamb?”all friends cried out.

“What mean ye, holy scent of newborn lamb?” all called now.

“Why heard you not the tales of old,why saw not the Star?

Why tapped you not into truth on which men bow?”

“Oh, we once heard, we once saw, we once stepped in theTrue Way.”

“But what we now will find in stall below our last mile?”

“Oh, we like to hear, like to see, like to tap the road, hooray.”

But we know not need to follow holy scent,find new Lamb.”

“BECAUSE EARS HAVE NOT HEARD NOR EYES NOT SEEN”

whispered Small Shrub Girl in memory of old time

as she brushed on sniffing the last curve;

weaving the way of friends into byways of  New Life.

NOTE:  We will finally reach Bethlehem’s stall and find waiting many unexpected critters, friends, gifts, sights, sounds, feelings, and smells:  none yet tasting of the sweet waters of life such travelers all seek in such places of waiting.

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SEGUE: FROG AND CATERPILLAR AT ROADSIDE


 

 

FROG AND CATERPILLAR OFF TO THE SIDE

 

We are now  going to revisit a small spot, a small dip in the road, a small vale almost overlooked before traveling on with our four friends:  Floppy-eared Boy, Floppy-eared Donkey, Stump Woman, and Sherpherd of the Crook Eye.  We will pull back a segment recently appearing on Generation X website, run by Jennifer James in Oklahoma City.  The following had appeared, at Jennifer’s request, a little over a week ago:

THE FROG AND THE CATERPILLAR ON THE ROAD

Big Croaker rolled in the last midge of his dinner

For it would soon be time fornight’s rivetting chorale

For, you see, Big Croaker is the new winner

The new top boss of Big Pond morale.

Oh, yes, bow low, all peppers, all thinner

All multitudes, vast crowds, even to SoCal.

 

Rivetting as his vast band should be,

Big Croaker soon grew boared with so many lowly peeps,

Now Bigg Frog bulged eyes and sprang to tree

Up on the hill above Big Pond, all the better for reaps

Of richer, juicier bugs of  the night awaning in lee,

For, you see, Big Croaker would always want more in leaps.

 

But, wait, halt–what is this little parade below?

What is this man, this donkey, this girl on the road?

What is this parade of the evening on a quest to tow?

What is this parade, of low esteem without Big Toad?

Oh, yes, this parade must have Big Toad leading the row?

How else would any quest be worth the load?

 

So no Big Croaker hopped with throat blown up,

All ready to lend some glory to man and donkey and girl,

Big Croaker only could give these three the proper shine up,

The proper line up with proper flippings of that tongue in curl,

So  bulging were Biggie’s eyes at hopping out,up,out,up,

He never saw Caterpillar dropping from limb to saddle’s burl.

 

Until little Cattie  whispered in his fuzz, “I will go, I will see,”

And then did Big Croaker hop higher, croak louder, blow bigger:

“But I am the leader, I am the Biggie, you fake bee!

“I will lead the quest, I know best, snigger, snigger.”

Then did Little Cattie wriggle and snug, just content to be

Riding on the trip of the ages, not heeding Croaker trigger.

 

So Big Croakie blew harder and hopped higher

Until little donkey’s hoof did fling him into ditch,

Blinding him with mud and dulling Croaker to Sigher,

For now Croaker was choked with a stitch

Of pain in the throat that once ruled the mire

Of Big Pond, now forgotten in night’s pitch.

 

Little Cattie snugged in girl’s robe, holding truths under starlight,

“Oh, yes, I hear the song, oh yes, I see the wings.

Oh, yes, I am little, I am only one,I have no might,

But I am riding to Bethlehem with things

No home could make so right,

Riding to Bethlehem held by the mother of God’s son.

 

NOTE:  When our four friends, listed above, continue on their own special road, they will be surprised by the Shrub Girl, who can smell over great distances!

MEETING UP WITH STUMP WOMAN


 

 

ALONG CAME STUMP WOMAN

 

Just a the floppy-eared boy and the donkey all floppy parts

Flopped and listened and heard as one the bright starsong

Just as four floppy ears danced down the wires to their hearts

With the brushing of angle wings foretold from time so long,

There stamped the squat figure of Stump Woman with no carts

Nor bearing no berries nor nectar to keep strong.

 

“Oh, Stump Woman, why leave your rest, your roots, your vale

“To stamp wobbly out here with us on the path to you-know-not-what

“When all we ask of you is to root right down for sitting while a tale

“Winds down the funneling floppy ears, singing the heart-wires of this and that

“Why uproot your old skirt to drag in this dust scarce settled after hoof rail

“Plodding the way to a place where you surely could not find a rest mat?”

 

“Oh, Flopping Eared Boy and Like-Eared Donkey, knew you not,

“Knew you not, I was pulled from taps into earth by most queer gust

“Indeed, lust of winds seeking shaken light from far away cot,

“So they whistled to me, swirling me up and out and to you in trust,

“That you heard the One True Tap Way in funneling ears to swot,

“Away all buzzings and fuzzings from my lowly branches, stripping the crust.”

 

“So, Stump Woman, we see you now all stripped and gleaming,

“So we hear your beaming, welcome your stamping between we two,

“So we hear from the brightest star a message fresh streaming,

“So new is the beaming of this joining on the road, a new crew,

“So now we are three all flopping and stamping, so newly steaming,

“With heated heart-wires and whittled stump sides to hear true.”

 

So the Floppy-Eared Boy and the Floppy-Eared Donkey listened in trod

Along a dusty path around hill and rock centered by Stump Woman in stamp

So the Boy and the Donkey and the Stump Woman flopped in nod

To the rhythm of the stars and the wings and the sway of loaded clamp

Of young girl’s mystery infilled leaning unheard by flopped ears or stamped clod

For the load of the donkey could not be seen by ears or stamping root in dewy damp.

 

NOTE:  On stamped and flopped the three new friends not seeing, only listening.

 
 

 

 

 

 

THE FLOP-EARED BOY WAITING FOR A DONKEY


 

 

FLOPPY EARS HEAR BETTER

 

THE VILLAGE BOY ASSIGNED FLOPPY EARS

BY SOME UNKNOWN PANEL OF ELDERS

WAITED IN STINKY PUDDLES FOR ONE WHO BEARS

WAITED UNDER A HEAVY BAG OF SMELDERS

THIS FLOP EARED BOY HAD DREAMED OF OTHER FLOP EARS

NOT OF HIS OWN KIN WHO WOULD TROD

WITH FOUR HOOVES, NOT JUST TWO

BEARING A HEAVY BAG IN NOD

OVER LONG DUSTY ROAD IN RUE

OF THE TAXED LOAD EVEN UNBORN

STILL THE FLOPEARED BOY ONLY HEARD FALLING STARS

AND SWEEPING WINDS OF WINGS

BUT WAIT–NOW  DID HE HEAR CLACKING BARS

DRAGGING TO BEAR FRESH THINGS

FOR HEAVY DONKEY LOAD HAD KNOWN

OF NEED FOR SWADDLINGS IN OLD BOXES

HEAVY DONKEY LOAD NOW HEARD WIND-BLOWN

NOW FLOPPY EARS OF BOY AND DONKEY COCKSES

TO CATCH THE BREATH OF EACH IN HEAVE AND SIGH

AS EACH FOUR FLOPPY EARS SENT  WIRES

OF HOPE TO HEART OF BOY AND ALL BY

AS EACH FOUR FLOPPY EARS ALL ANEW UNDER STAR’S FIRES.

 

 

To Be Continued with a third set of ears joining to listen!

 

OLD HEN AND YOUNG WEASEL


 

 HEN CLUCKS, WEASEL LISTENS

“Peck, peck, cluckery-cloo, peckery-do,”

old moulty hen self-pleased in stray grains

did coughy-cackle in aged loo

of brisk prancy preen over the plains.

Even though droppy combs, bleary eye

topped this old head pointed  far out

Old Clucky waddled a two-step, oh my!

dusted up a line dance, bend over and shout!

“Sloockely, moochely, peckety, almost youngedty”

cluckled old Henny to who she cared not,

Not minding a slow slinkety weasely minkedty,

Sniffing her tracks, whistely slurpedty in trot.

“Rude dude, you waggely weasel slink-stink,

“Cockle-peck, trottle-deck I spike thou fluff tail,

“‘Til you lie down, bow crown and blink-blink

“In trolly-holy star now fallen in hale.”

“Wriggle in shame, same slinkedty hair-tail!

“Know you not this ol’ chick out here peckedty just waiting

“Under the foretold star fall, old toll wing sweepy trail,

Means we peckies and sneakies  no owe no bail!”

“Oh, Big Mama Hennie, no more peckie, no more scratchie!

“Oh, forsooothy in my toothy, I no more drooly slinky!

“Oh, promisey measy weasy, only wriggledty matchie

“So lookey uppey, Nobley Hennie, in cluckedty blinky!”

Now Hennie and Weasie stretched up necks in gaze

So sparkly in cheer from all the choirs of ages,

So still were Hennie and Weasie they were in daze

Most peaceful, most willing good in humming stages.

Now Mama Hennie and Junior Weasie touched feet

as they marched on under new light

Lifted in joy by chorus so sweet

Forgotten was old game, no more no fight.

“Wait, wait, Mama Hennie: why we actin’ this way?

“Why we not clawin’ and slurpin’ and peckin’ and bleedin’?”

“Hushie uppie, cluckie-chuckie, we put feet in stall.

“We bow and sigh and blink at Baby indeedin.”

 

Dragonfly Flutters Spotted Goat


 

 

DRAGONFLY BLUE ON SPOTTED GOAT

 

“As if, as if, huffy, puffy, luff, luff

“As if not bad enough, gruff stuff

“Standing out blotchedy, notchedy

“Spottedy, pottchedy, crotchedy

“Grazing down left behinds so mines

“Drinking down far corners left behinds.”

 

For, you see, Goatsy Spotsist was claimed by none.

For, you see, Papa, Mama, Uncle, Aunt white of bun.

For, you see, Notty Goatherd nor Potty Master claimed no black.

For, you see, no sight admitted of spotted nor striped on back.

For, you see, no hill held goats of marks,no rocks hid the strange.

For, you see, no such claimed admission on this pure grange.

 

“Oh, me, oh my, oh knee, oh back, all spottedy me, me,me.

“Oh, me, so left, so behind, no peace under pine tree, see.

“Oh, me, of my, all so bad, me so bad, but now am tried.

“Oh, me, so tried, so baddetdy triedetdy now buzz sighed.

“Oh, me, so sighed by buzzedty flysie so drag-goned flippy.

“Oh, me, of my, oh duffy puffy tuffy stop sippely flippy.”

 

For, you see, not just alone was Goatsy Spotsist, trying to graze,

But, you see, was Goatsy Spotsist all flipped by Dragonsy in maize.

Oh me, oh my, you see, poor loneliest Goatsiest Spotsiest was buzzed

Yes, you see, now you see, sipping Goatsy Spotsist by Flysie all fuzzed.

Dear, dear me, oh dear, dear one, scarcely could any more fluster

Dear, oh dear, now to be fussed and nagged was Goatsy now to bust-her.

 

“Oh, thou noble Goatsy, so coatsied in noble marks, so ready now for larks.

“Oh, thou most striking, stripeddy Goatsy, know you not you dressed in sparks,

“Know you not you sparked by starriest lights struck from above in angel choirs,

“Know you not you marked from above so special to carry me to blessed biers,

“Oh, thou most chosen Goatsy, now be flitted and fluttered by my wings in blue,

“Oh, thou royal marked Goatsy, now be running under my wings on path so true.”

 

For, you see, Goatsie Spotsist and Dragonsy Flysie in true blue bond called to join.

For, you see, Spotted One and Blue One leaping as one tilting angel not for coin.

For, you see, Spotsy and Bluesy bold as dragons skipping in flitters no more fluttered.

For, you see, Goatsie and Flysie far ahead of herders, ever closer than masters shuttered.

For, you see, leaping Spotted One and fluttering Bluesy One no more in worried wrinkles.

For, you see, sacred choiring of peace on earth, goodwill to all flew beast, flew fly, all smiling winkles.

THE NIGHTINGALE TAUGHT CROW TO SING


 

 

THE NIGHT OF CROW’S DEBUT WITH THE ANGELS

 

One crisping, swooping, starwaving night

In a bent old snaggy olive tree

Perched half behind a broken blight

Sat the nightingale singing tra-lee, tra-lee

For, you see, Friend Hopper’s bulgy sight

Beamed in twinkles: “new symphony”

 

So Miss Nightee Gale ran up and down trills

To warm all her chords in fore-warned mystery

Miss Nightee Gale trilled and thrummed the hills

So happy she was to please her friends for all history

 

Then who should bash, crash, smash down old limbs

But that one crow, Rusty Crow, who for corn only cawed

Who now disturbed the night song, the star-song to dims

So puzzled was Nightee Gale at daybird leaving her tune all pawed.

 

“What are you doing here, you greedy follower after dropped sheep’s corn?”

“What are you doing in my olivey bower, my starry runey chorales?”

“Oh, Nightee, the family kicked me out of my stally nightbed in scorn.”

“Oh, Nightee, the family pecked my snorey caws in their corrals.”

 

“Oh, is THAT all?  Is THAT your only reason for such treason?”

“Well, Brother Rusty, we shall soon mend all in your throat;”

“For Friend Hopper just scraped a note of new angel reason

“Bringing to all critters a new tune for all, no matter their boat.”

 

So Miss Nightee made room for Ol’ Rusty in her bower

Upon agreement that Ol’Rusty run chords in his throat

While lifting his corned eye always to starry shower

To bring harmony in rusty throat now with thrumming smote.

Now Ol’ Rusty and Miss Nightee bloomed like a flower

Of sweetest essence rising up to enfold angel’s coat.

 

Soon Galing tunes and Crowing chords formed a golden harp

On which the Peace and Goodwill Angels played over hills

And into lanes beside a cattle stall where sheep made a tarp

To cover small baaing heads bowed before heart’s thrills

Hushed by a new baby’s gaze beaming love without carp

To answer chorus of Rusty-Nightee band sending no bills.

 

BLIND IN ONE EYE AND COCK-EYED IN THE OTHER


 

BLIND AND COCK-EYED OL’ SHAG DOG

 

 

Ol’ Shag was the dog last needed in the draw

and the dog first needed in duty stood alone

Ol’ Shag’s eyes had known slashing lion’s paw

and suffered ripping wolf fang hard as stone

 

Ol’ Shag was this night trotting in the rear

swinging grey head with foggy eye and rolling glance

Ol’ Shag dropped stalling behind no more to bear

first duty of watch, must duty of closing sheeply stance.

 

Ol’ Shag swung his head in search of a pat

telling him soon grazing was reached

Ol’ Shag felt not touch but song as flying mat

for which he once beseeched.

 

Ol’ Shag saw fuzzed scrambling where sheep climbed to grass

as he swung his head from dark side to tipping side

Ol’Shag breathed harder as song swept dark to pass

away in all glory once foretold of shepherd’s betide.

 

Ol’ Shag stood tethered and panting in left behind

and swung his head in dark and tilting field

When quite in tune with his seeking so blind

A sharp tooth of light did sight so yield.

 

Ol’ Shag knelt down in weeds so hushed

now saw clearly his master by a manger

once for donkey but now for baby shushed

now saw clearly the love for stranger.

Little Lost Lamb Found a Shortcut


 

 

LOST LAMB AND HIS SHORTCUT

 

“Oh, all my brothers and sisters are sleeping so good.

“Now I can slip away to those tender shoots

“for Mother a special surprise of a special sweet bud,

Found I with many a pawing in my muddy boots.”

 

Thus did Littly Lamb plan and prance away in the night,

Smiling with lovelit eyes as he nibbled his surprise

Nodding his curly head as he skipped with new might

Away towards Family Sheeply holding this green prize.

 

Littly Lamb hopped around the last big rock so bright

Now with sweeping new lights showing the way,

Now with sudden new sweep of singing wind’s kite,

Litttly Lamb blinked away a wing bright as day.

 

“What sweeps past me, feathering my path,

So bright, so shining, yet soft does it glow?”

“What path does it show with sweeping lathe

Of carving song, molding chords, sweeping bow?”

 

Littly Lamb saw no Mother, no brother, no sister,

no guardians at hillside once folding the flock,

Littly Lamb heard only sighings, saw far mister

softening the bleatings, echoed far rock.

 

“Oh, I must bring tenders to Mother, must follow;”

“Oh, must follow, must find again by another path,”

did Littly Lamb pant to himself scrambling in hollow;

did Littly Lamb tumble to scramble most in wrath.

 

Then did Littly Lamb blink in blindness a fall of feathers.

Then did Littly Lamb tumble down a strange craig,

rolling and winding and landing far down by leathers,

Collars draped down by his own guard’s leg.

 

“Oh, where are we, Master, where are we, Mother?”

did Littly Lamb squeak as he shook off the fallen.

“Oh, what is that hay smell, that bay smell by Brother?

“Oh, what is that glow bright, that windsong callin’?”

 

Oh, Littly Lamb, with so much love crooning in heart;

Oh, Littly Lamb, with so much wonder blinking your eye;

Oh, Little Lamb, with so much life waiting to dart;

Oh, Little Lamb, behold so much peace from on high.

 

For, Littly Lamb, in the City of David near your fields

Now lies a Little One born to touch all souls

Now lies a Little One born to walk all rocky yields

Now lies a Little One born to gift His Mother tolls.

 

Oh, Littly Lamb, step near, watch near the night away;

Oh, Littly Lamb, lie down the hay for peace and joy;

Oh, Littly Lamb, for you under angels’ wings’ dismay

did hold tight tender greeny gift for Jesus Boy.

 

 

 

 
 

 

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