A freshly wrought nose nodule
Can hold a man in rapture
The battle long and arduous
Then finally the capture
Now wet or dry the nodule
Will fix upon a finger
And like some precious pearl or stone
The man will with it linger
Suddenly the nodule
Propelled and skyward bound
Trajectory uncertain
Will land without a sound
By Scarlet Monahan
Posted on March 18, 2008 at 5:30pm —
High up high the high bird flew
To wing at pillow cloud,
Toothless smile his too full pile,
Fell speedy t’ward the crowd.
She, smiling at the deepest blue,
Then closing eyes to dream,
High bird left his message ‘pon,
Her soon consumed ice cream,
By Scarlet Monahan
Posted on March 13, 2008 at 8:00pm —