“……we’uns never have enough room!”


 

“……we’uns never have enough room!”

Squeezed together with pinchey toes

An’ scrapin’ bellies

An’ knockin’ noggins in blows

All down in the’ boggins shrillies.

Squished ‘n squashed an’ pressin’ blows

On long-ago nervsies.

 

 

Topsy-turvsies all-a-boggle

No whit of glee did find a thrill to toggle

Where friends were smashin, clashin’

All twistin’ an’ bustin’ w’elbow so thrashin’

Were friends seekin’ safety from snortin’ beasties

So hungry for the husks o’ their berries in feasties.

 

 

“Turn ye selves rightside up, ye goonies in den!”

Old Crow then did flap so scratched a croak

From one-toed perch on ledge just then,

“Does not ye see new ray of light in stroke,

“Pointing to door,  secret door, to Higher Room of kin?”

 

 

 

 

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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.

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.

 
 

 

 

 

 

SEVENTH WEEK MONDAY: UNSTIRRED, UNBLENDED, UNMIXED


This past weekend, I was revisited by that horrible goblin from childhood named “NoNoNotOneOfUs”, otherwise know as NcubedOsquaredU! Pheee-ouuuu!

See, I was not invited to help hostess a party in honor of a close friend.  Anyway, walking/meditating/just BE-ing for a while resulted in my friend and I having a most rewarding one-to-one visit, gift-giving, and presentation poems treasured!

So, here is my little verse that seems to be working pretty well to slay the dragon of the outsider hocus pocus dance.

 

BEING UNSTIRRED,

          UNBLENDED, UNMIXED–

LEFT IN THE REFIGERATOR

          FAR BACK CORNER.

THE SINGLE EGG, SORT OF PALE TAN,

         SORT OF BUMPY-SHELLED–

REMAINS ALONE, UNSELECTED,

          OUT OF SIGHT, UNREMEMBERED.

“WHAT WILL BE MY “USE-BY” DATE?

          DO I HAVE A DATE?

“WHAT IF I CRACK?  WOULDN’T

          I THEN MAKE A GOOD BREAKFAST

TO START A BETTER DAY?

            “QUICK!  HELP ME ROCK AND ROLL!”

Anyway, I am rocking and rolling with all of you bloggers, sharing in a true community!  Thanks be!

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