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Medical Forum / General / General / November 2005Warrant, ye, or dog? Who knows. Pass the grog ~ !
Quoted for your reference." ~ Fobby "'Overheard at big bash last week for Mike Wallace' ~ Liz Smith Originally published November 1, 2005 'At the big party for Mike Wallace last week ...'" ~ The Baltimore Sun "Fobby ~ Lo, know ~ ! Ms. Liz, our Turtle Bay neighbor ~ !" ~ Folly "... where no squirrel Went abroad, if plenty silver Fluffy tails crossed The road, scampering over to The Morgan Libraire ... Where presides, where reigns ~ Le Petite Prince & Ms. Beatrix Dominatrix Potter & squirrelly Peter Rabbit, a briar, his habit, to sire more scions Than Tar Baby knows how to rhyme, Without The Lions Of The New York Public Library, If and when their Noble Noblese Oblige Required, O, so handsome, Those NYPL Lions, sporting A Christmas Wreath around their stoic furry stony manes." ~ Beverly Sills "... leave us. You smell ..." ~ Trickster "... a rat On velvet wings Lingering in the wings, Stage left ... An Antecedent Antechamber, song's light Sung right Echoes Later Tonight ~ ! * ~ * Opera Noir, Twisted Notes * ~ ~ * ~ Blog, I'll warrant ye, or dog? Who knows. Pass the grog! But if ye see me lost pup, please bring that scurvy dog home! I got Leon a brand-new bone, with a chest full a' booty. _________________ http://journals.aol.com/virginiaz/DreamingofLeonardo "Ps. Even smelling visitors By Public Library's right allowed, unless sinister." ~ Folly "Relative to rhythm and line, A rougher river, sacred Virgil never sang, If Alice angers valleys, And wind ~ wandering windy bank Gave thanks, chased desire, Cherished chimes sound together, if echo dangles a saddle Riding fast across the meadow, A shadow cast meadow of tone color ~ Relative to rhythm and line, mayhem and pantomime, Ate bait great straight weight Beau hoe mow so, though ~ Should an English speaker echo Pet, pare, to Peter, play ~ ?" ~ Joan "Must our parts, our play, both sing and say, Carry over, continuous and changing ~ Clanging bells of super's Vespers, changes rung If any system a part a player plays, says What parts a role plays, starts a player's saying, Imparts a speaker's words, part parole, if smartly sung For party favor, a chosen role a player's heart Too well, to crafty an arrow knows ... Heartstring plucked a feather's quill blows ~ If letters snow, if snowy knowing grows, sprouts Old but never weary, Imparts teary knowledge that carries over, continuous And unchanging, >From Beginning to End, If reference to rhythm, diction, And imagery, only Imaginary, But content A subject meant ~ ? A question posed without Ending, for poseur Posits a polished Pearl from sandy shore, A journey every mollusk Knows. Just ask Charlotte." ~ Fobby "Hail, Thee ~ Off to summon yarns Around The Yard ... To lead to the Auroras Of Autumn, our sail's mast Must achieve the proper proposition of opposition Against which ~ Thee tea put by Jody of Thee ~ Four Two ... O, I forgot where I put my Wallace Stevens, If Tina, a Silver Tea Service, aptly arranges, also, A Tinker Sailor Solider Spy So that Ella sees the ~ relative ~ ! AKA, her brother Jody ~ !" ~ Cotter "Thee ~ Diane, at the rate or rhythm and the line, A Rougher Ruder of River, you, crowned early Of Dante's pivotal direction to The City Of Dis, For Virgil never sang, If Alice irritates valleys, and the wandering windy Bank Of ~ Of wind gave mercies, if driven out desire Liken Peppermint's ginger chimes To The Noyz Of The Deade Boyz Noise known together, if the echo balances An English saddle quickly assembling Netherland's Outlandish Faire Fox Hunt, No kill, only Knights With Improbable Dreams battling Amsterdam windmills Of Holland's Sleepy Hollow, drop ~ kick, punt Your puffy pillow, or take a nap Under a Weeping Willow near Sheep's Marshmallow Meadow." ~ Danglyn ~ * Cross Pens, Across Grande Central Station, Beneath The Clock XXX * ~ "(For, though I knew His love Who followèd, Yet was I sore adread Lest, having Him, I must have naught beside.) But, if one little casement parted wide, The gust of His approach would clash it to: Fear wist not to evade, as Love wist to pursue. Across the margent of the world I fled, And troubled the gold gateways of the stars, Smiting for shelter on their clangèd bars: Fretted to dulcet jars And silvern chatter the pale ports o' the moon." ~ Francis Thompson, >From "The Hound of Heaven" (1859-1907) |
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