"emmaline" poems
Plant a fertile garden in summer & harvest all of the fruits and vegetables.
PIckle all of the vegetables.
preserve all of the fruits-leave some
Apples for pie.
Place pickles and preserves in the darkness of the root cellar.
Order How to ****** a Farmhand in 10 Days from the book catalogue.
Order the Art of War also just in case
Invite Handsome Jimmy Pike from the neighbouring farm over for pie.
Get Uncle Abe to cover the dirt floor with planks.
As Mama always said a frozen dirt floor is just for the dirt poor.
Bake Pie. Place on windowsill.
Waft the smell
Of hot pie over toward the woodpile where Uncle Abe is chopping wood.
Invite Jimmy to play Gin Rummy the evening when Uncle Abe is mysteriously ill of a stomach complaint and sleeping in the barn.
Show Jimmy Uncle Abe's tongue and groove method of log cabin construction.
Ask Jimmy to show me the **** and pass method of using unmilled logs to **** up against each other without notching.
Spike Jimmy's tea with ***
Show Jimmy the root cellar.
**** up against Jimmy with notching.
WITH LOTS OF NOTCHING.
Fall pregnant.
Tell Uncle Abe and have a shotgun wedding.
Bake another special pie.
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 6:28 PM UTC
Oh, how Emmaline did write,
Her touch to the parchment;
How she thought it was a plight,
She forever a lent.
Plastered walls encompassing
As she avidly wrote.
White curtains to indite,
Details to she would gloat.
How she and they sat: cat and dog,
Hammers striking the strings.
Its tone creating a sound bog,
Words ones to ever sing.
Books stacked there effortlessly,
Beauty with a quote.
The animals, with ever chi,
Spied for an anecdote.
Yet, how literature was bent,
Her quilt now forsaken;
How they would forever relent:
They never awakened.
Apr 14, 2012
Apr 14, 2012 at 6:41 PM UTC