Baa baa, Black Sheep, what's wrong with your wool?
Come now, Black Sheep, whatcha' tryna' pull?
Stand very still and let us make you White.
Don't fear, Black Sheep, family doesn't bite.
Oh dear, Black Sheep! Though we've tried our best,
poor Black Sheep still isn't like the rest.
Even now, he doesn't shine as brightly as his kin.
Soon he will revert and be black as he's ever been!
Bye bye Black Sheep, clearly you can't stay.
There isn't any purpose for your blackness anyway.
You should have changed your wool, but you just never understood.
Your defections were bitter....but your pain tastes really good.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Friday, June 1, 2012
A Day in Camelot with the Little Elf
Little Elf
The little elf-child who sleeps on the stone;
what she may dream of or why is not known.
Who knows why she growls if you nudge her awake?
(If she's even sleeping; it could all be fake.)
Few stranger or prettier things have been shown
than the little elf-child who sleeps on the stone.
-----------------------------------------------
.......Heh. So yeah, before you scratch your puzzled head, let me give you the headscratchingly puzzling story behind this one.
You guys remember my last post, wherein I told you about the Extremely Fantastic Brownings I toured the Gettysburg battlefield with? Well, they have a young daughter, whom I ran around making up many playground games with and giving many piggybacks to. One of the games we played was of such bizarrity that I decided to write a poem about it.
Okay, so my Dear Little Friend, she would slide down the long metal slide until she reached the end, at which point she would leap directly into my arms. I would then proceed to twirl her around, dip her, and then put her back on the end of the slide. She'd spider-climb up, reach the top, slide down, and we'd repeat the whole process over again, and all was well and extremely weird in the world even before she decided to change it up.
Without warning, when I had placed her back on the end of the slide for perhaps the fifth time, she promptly began imitating a sleeping person. I watched her for a little bit, and when it was clear she was showing no signs of 'waking up' anytime soon, I decided to take my chances and see what a nudge on the shoulder would do. What it did was cause her to 'wake up', growl like a little feral gremlin in my direction, race back up to the top of the slide, growl once more, slide down, and lather, rinse, repeat.
Get it? I sure as heck don't. But that little girl certainly did, and that was good enough for me. Love and miss you, kiddo!
Oh yeah, and I also wrote a stupid poem about Camelot.
----------------------------------------------------------
A Day in Camelot
Sir Galahad and Sir Gawaine
were fighting dragons on the plain.
Sir Lancelot and old Sir Cai
were out to catch Morgan le Fay.
Sir Lional and Sir Bedevere
were...wait a minute, now see here!
In our fair town of Camelot
it seems like Sirs are all we've got,
so where have all the Maidens gone?
Let us now go on the lawn.
There sit Guinevere and Elaine,
picking some berries in the rain.
Arthur is with them, our brave King!
What is he doing? Not a thing
(But that's okay, 'cause he's the King).
The little elf-child who sleeps on the stone;
what she may dream of or why is not known.
Who knows why she growls if you nudge her awake?
(If she's even sleeping; it could all be fake.)
Few stranger or prettier things have been shown
than the little elf-child who sleeps on the stone.
-----------------------------------------------
.......Heh. So yeah, before you scratch your puzzled head, let me give you the headscratchingly puzzling story behind this one.
You guys remember my last post, wherein I told you about the Extremely Fantastic Brownings I toured the Gettysburg battlefield with? Well, they have a young daughter, whom I ran around making up many playground games with and giving many piggybacks to. One of the games we played was of such bizarrity that I decided to write a poem about it.
Okay, so my Dear Little Friend, she would slide down the long metal slide until she reached the end, at which point she would leap directly into my arms. I would then proceed to twirl her around, dip her, and then put her back on the end of the slide. She'd spider-climb up, reach the top, slide down, and we'd repeat the whole process over again, and all was well and extremely weird in the world even before she decided to change it up.
Without warning, when I had placed her back on the end of the slide for perhaps the fifth time, she promptly began imitating a sleeping person. I watched her for a little bit, and when it was clear she was showing no signs of 'waking up' anytime soon, I decided to take my chances and see what a nudge on the shoulder would do. What it did was cause her to 'wake up', growl like a little feral gremlin in my direction, race back up to the top of the slide, growl once more, slide down, and lather, rinse, repeat.
Get it? I sure as heck don't. But that little girl certainly did, and that was good enough for me. Love and miss you, kiddo!
Oh yeah, and I also wrote a stupid poem about Camelot.
----------------------------------------------------------
A Day in Camelot
Sir Galahad and Sir Gawaine
were fighting dragons on the plain.
Sir Lancelot and old Sir Cai
were out to catch Morgan le Fay.
Sir Lional and Sir Bedevere
were...wait a minute, now see here!
In our fair town of Camelot
it seems like Sirs are all we've got,
so where have all the Maidens gone?
Let us now go on the lawn.
There sit Guinevere and Elaine,
picking some berries in the rain.
Arthur is with them, our brave King!
What is he doing? Not a thing
(But that's okay, 'cause he's the King).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)