A luminous beam

From a

Heavenly dream

Landed upon my breast.

I lay in the lie

of an inky nigh’

and watched it

dance ’or my chest.

Til the clock struck one

and finished the fun

of a brilliant

Elysium.

That angel light

stole my breath of life

and away through the night it did run.

The strangest thing happened

to Lilly McGown.

Her toe caught a crack

but she didn’t fall down.

She bumbled and stumbled

in front of a truck,

and Lilly found

herself falling up!

The crack wasn’t new

she’d seen it before,

it had stubbed a toe

and had caught the door.

’Lil had the means,

it could have been filled,

“but it was only a crack,

who had it killed?”

Poor Lilly expected

to crack her crown,

as always before when

falling down,

she’d split her lip

or blacked an eye

but this time Lilly

fell towards the sky!

She fell and she fell

forever it seemed,

she fell past birds

on feathery wings.

She fell past kites

and clouds and things.

’Lil Lil’ fell upward

as if pulled by a string.

Poor Lilly fell high

to the edge of black,

to that clearly drawn line

where you cannot come back.

She kicked and she waved

but she never could stop

this falling that fell

her right over the top.

Poor Lilly is gone

From her upward spill.

She tripped into Heaven

against her will,

so fill your cracks

and tamp them down

so you never trip up

like Lilly McGown.

.

Lucy Lipp

was a liquorice whip

who let it go to her head,

that she was loved,

and held above

the licorice sticks that were red.

She always laughed,

when the half of the bag

with red at the bottom remained.

Lucy never was grieved,

for she firmly believed

that black should hold red in disdain.

’Til a sweet ’Lil Miss

with a sweet ’lil wish

took Lucy’s bag home to eat.

Three cheers for black,

pulled first from the sack

still every child’s favorite treat.

But Lucy was tricked,

she only got licked,

’Lil Miss didn’t like her a little.

Lucy tasted like ash,

and was thrown in the trash

replaced by a packet of Skittles.

Missy put the red back

in their candy-store sack

to save for another day.

When Skittles were done,

red was better than none,

so she wouldn’t throw them away.

It all goes to show

that you never should grow

too sure of your place in the sack.

Lucy learned a hard truth,

not every sweet-tooth

cares for licorice, red or black.

So if you think

your sugar don’t stink

and you belong at the top of the list,

remember the riddle

of ’Lil Miss Skittles,

and her licorice tale with a twist.

Such a lucky thing you are,

Your job to wile away

Every spinning second hand

spent keeping books at bay.

Upon a shelf with titles tilted

Proudly on display

Collecting dust, forever must

You let them have their day.

The weights of worlds imagined

Pushing hard upon your spine,

You hold them in, but can’t begin

To wonder at their lines,

Sadly though, you’ll stay a brick.

That is my prognosis,

Unless you learn to read them

Through their covers by osmosis.

I keep seeing these prompts and cannot play

cause I don’t know nothin‘ bout anime

But not to worry, I’ll rock old school

And bring back ’toons that were really cool

Are these new shows y’all want to parody

really better than Merry Melody?

B-B-Boy, Ah say boy, pay attention now

Ah says, “Ah’m a rooster, not a chicken or cow”

Andele, andele, run Speedy run, but

Senor Rodriguez, “he pack a gun.”

There’s a big crop of carrots pulled fresh from the ground

so dat wascally wabbit’s, “Alabamy bound!”

And there’s Hannah-Barbera, or Looney Tunes

Popeye the Sailor and Mr. Magoo

I’ll have to give anime a pass

and remember the ’toons that made us laugh

A beautiful blond danced nude on a stump

when a hunter passed by with his shotgun pumped.

So strange to see such a sight on this trail,

And our hesitant hunter had no interest in jail,

So he asked, ”you’re pretty, but are you ‘game’?”

When she smiled and said yes... he blew her away.

Yes, common sense was lacking here,

it was not the season for stalking ‘dears’.

But homonyms suck, no splitting ‘hares‘

and homophones too, when hunting for ‘bare’?

It’s a tough, tough task, but I have a strong will,

Gotta roll this ball, up that steep, steep hill

It’s a big, big ball from a fresh, fresh, pile

Of smelly, smelly poop below a black and white cow.

I‘ve pushed it up five times... this doody that I found

But near the tippy-tippy top it always rolls back down.

It’s a crappy, crappy job, one I wouldn’t give to you

But it needs, needs done, so I won’t shoo-shoo

I‘m an itty-bitty beetle with some strong, strong lungs

whether from the exercise or from the stinky, stinky dung.

Don’t hate your job, it could always be worse...

Whiskey and Wine

always got along fine

until one night they tumbled together.

What they thought would be nice,

a cocktail on ice,

left them high, dry, and unfettered.

Where she used to be sweet,

he simple and neat,

now they swirled in a toxic ether,

of love and lust

that in the end must

leave them both feeling under the weather.

So keep it in mind

that not all pairings wind

up as happy as lace and leather.

No, these two should stay friends,

and not hook-up again,

so we all can wake up feeling better.

I got no hat to shade my head

and a tow-sack left to fill

There’s a man in shades a-watchin’ me

and forty years to kill

The cotton boles have bled me

til my fingers cannot bend

and that tow-sack never fills

so them fingers cannot mend

I got a mind to make a break

I got a mind to run

but that man in shades a-watchin’ me

is cradlin’ a gun.

The delta ain’t no place for me

there ain’t a hill in sight

nor tree, nor friend, nor happy end

just forty years or life.

So spend your nights at home, boys

keep your woman in your bed

Cause if you stay, then she won’t stray

and you won’t shoot her dead.

Forty years in Parchman left

for shooting down my wife

jealousy and whiskey’s earned me

forty years or life.

Matilda Twitty was young and pretty,

the princess of Fairly Hall.

And popular too, nearly everyone knew

her well as the belle of the ball.

The trouble though, what they couldn’t know,

was that Tildy had a twin,

an evil tart with an onyx heart

who used magic to do men in.

Tabitha Twitty was unknown in the city

as the family hid her away,

in an upstairs site, where they hoped they might

keep her villainous powers at bay.

But the men from town, determined and bound

that Matilda see their allure,

came to call, at Fairly Hall

on its princess so fair and demure.

But what the boys got was not what they thought

as they serenaded their love.

Those courtships were jaded, while the boys promenaded,

Tabitha spied on them from above.

Sipping her wine, biding her time,

unseen from her garret’s gable.

Awaiting her chance while ”Sweet Tildy“ danced,

to cut in and turn the table.

This sis in the attic was a raging addict

who when the night grew late,

would sneak below, and steal the soul

of he who had courted fate.

She would sneak to his bed, bend over his head

as though to plant a kiss,

but instead she would sip, the breath from his lips

and leave him in virulent bliss.

This evil twin would run away then

with a life’s breath sucked inside,

she’d hide in her room and the garret’s gloom

while her clarity got fried.

For when she exhaled, it never failed

to make her as high as a kite,

as that breath showed her dreams, and the nightmarish things

that her victim envisioned that night.

Wicked Tabitha loved to lord it above

her sister, and all of her beau’s.

She relished their dreams, being privy to things

that “Sweet Tildy” never would know.

She was having a time, til she happened to find

something that brought her up short.

It seemed that her bill for each mystical kill

was a bulbous, revolting wart.

Two grew on her hand, there was one that demanded

she never wear sheer hose.

But the largest of cankers, the one that most rankled

popped up on the end of her nose.

So while stealing breath, and causing death

gave Tabitha inebriate joys

she might have to pause, and determine the cause

of these hideous corns and boils.

But pay heed to my tale, if you’re ever availed

to go calling at Fairly Hall,

then if after dinner a young girl enters

your room... take a glance at the wall.

If her shadowed beak has a rounded peak

then you’re the victim of a switch.

Go ahead and scream, don’t give your dreams

to that damnable Tabitha b.... witch!