In my youth I was completely engrossed,
By poetry along the byways nailed to a post!
It wasn't composed by John Greenleaf Whittier;
No, the authors were much more wittier!
I speak of Burma Shave signs once all the craze,
But can only be found in museums nowadays.
I don't claim to own the wit of Nast or Nash,
But here are some I might've composed if I may be so brash!
If its a kiss from yer gal you crave
But the stubble on yer mug she hates
Better grab yerself a can of Burma Shave!
When ol' Sarge says you're grown' too much stubble
And threatens to nix yer weekend pass
Slather yer mug with Burma Shave on the double!
When you were interviewed for a host of jobs
But weren't hired because of yer stubble
Smother yer mug with Burma Shave in gobs!
When you insist on takin' her out to dine
But she says no caressin' yer 5-o'clock shadow
Mow yer mug usin' Burma Shave and all will be fine!
If it's yer handsome mug you want to save
Plain ol' Lifebuoy soap won't do the job
Use plenty of good ol' foamy Burma Shave!
Let me tell you fellers about the latest rave
If you want to impress your sweetie pie
Use smooth and creamy Burma Shave!
Categories:
nast, humorous, nostalgia, poetry,
Form: Rhyme
To live after death
Thomas Nast
Father of American Cartoons
Determined
He took in hand his brush
To realize his dream
Nast was a Father of brush
How can his Cartoon come in flesh?
Born old,dressed in red buggy
Santa Clause
He’s the Father of Christmas,Santa
Riding nonstop around this World
Finding all small,small children
To gift and to greet them all of seasons
Taking death Thomas Nast
Leaving his dream Santa and his cart
Categories:
nast, christmas, community, creation, dream,
Form: Free verse
Music by: Tim Nast
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z7ubQgJoayY
A flower dances in the sunlight close to me
with with every breath I take, a tendril petal falls
across the fields of memory , a daisy still...
Emerald grass, plushy dreams
oh how my senses thrill,
when sweet upon thy scent of earth,
the memory takes its fill;
Mornings awakened, by the summer heat
as gentle as a touch, made up of little lace
Like everything that lives and breathes,
the tiniest of seed sprouting on the ground,
in the softest spaces, called my heart;
I find you in the sweetly blossoms,
encounter you in love and only love
while you nestle in my soul like dear agate
I come to meet you face to face,
and proudly name you, "Grace "
Categories:
nast, assonance,
Form: Lyric
I met two aliens once. They were poets
like me, I mean, a poet and a poetess.
Their language sounded like music, though its
gender distinction wasn't hard to notice.
She’s from the Venus, he is from the Mars.
They speak different languages like us.
***
Below is a translation of the poem "Aliens" into Venusian (a vowel is replaced by the next vowel in alphabetical order):
O mit twu eloins unci. Thia wiri puits
loki mi, O mien, e puit end e puitiss.
Thior lengyegi suyndid loki mysoc, thuygh ots
gindir dostonctoun wesn't herd tu nutoci.
Shi's frum thi Vinys, hi os frum thi Mers.
Thia spiek doffirint lengyegis loki ys.
Below is a translation of the poem "Aliens" into Martian, (a consonant is replaced by the next consonant in alphabetical order):
I nev vxo amiept opde. Vjey xese qoevt
mile ne, I neap, a qoev apf a qoevett.
Vjeis maphuahe toupfef mile nutid, vjouhj ivt
hepfes fitvipdviop xatp'v jasf vo povide.
Tje't gson vje Weput, je it gson vje Nast.
Vjey tqeal figgesepv maphuahet mile ut.
Categories:
nast, language,
Form: Rhyme
I want to move out of this state,
seeing palm trees makes me feel great,
blue aqua water,
right outside the door,
this is the new scene.
that i am looking for.
a change of place,
a change for the better,
where the sun shines bright,
much better weather,
people are pleasant,
not nast and rude,
its seems like everyone in mass,
is always in a funky mood,
just me and my dogs,
take to the open road, carrying just a little bit,
not a heavy load,
ive done it here,
again and again,
starting over from scratch,
i need a new page in my life to begin,
im scared, and nervious to start this trip,
and nervious about what lay ahead,
but ive got to get planning, and get a grip,
and find a new homestead.
Categories:
nast, life, change, me,
Form: Rhyme