“You’re gonna lose that girl”, they sing:
the one who wears my diamond ring.
They ask me why I even date her -
she’s not a great communicator.
She got mislaid when out in Ronda,
until I bought the new transponder.
She’s unaware her room’s a cellar,
or that her name is Helen Keller.
Ronda’s a town,
but this rondelet rankles still:
Ronda’s a town
(a placename is a Proper Noun).
Between Malaga and Seville,
you’ll hear the very sparrows trill,
Ronda’s a town.
Ronda exists,
But does ‘rondelet’ rhyme with ‘hay’?
(Ronda exists:
I’ve wandered in its morning mists!)
Or does it, maybe, rhyme with ‘debt’?
It makes a poem hard to set!
Ronda exists.
Ronda’s my home.
Unlike phantom poetic forms,
Ronda’s my home.
Enough of frothy wordy foam!
I’ll stick to things that I can touch.
And I love Ronda very much.
Ronda’s my home.
Early got the Ronda round house
with a hi ya my head starts spinning
with a who's that
you can kiss my ass
he's got her fantasy kick on tap
Look how they fall like angels to the earth!
But no soft landing down amongst those rocks.
Those devils on the bridge with gleeful mirth
Terrorised the townsfolk as wolves do flocks
Of sheep at lambing time. For all their worth,
They searched shuttered houses and smashed the locks
Of any door, they could not open wide,
Dragged out the frightened men hiding inside
Battered them senseless to the dusty ground
In gutters, awash with their comrades’ blood
Each in their own vomit and bile half-drowned.
They lay gasping like fish stranded on mud.
The narrow streets echoing with the sound
Of their screaming and each rifle-butt’s thud.
My God, who are these beasts in human form
Whose hearts the desert sun could never warm?
They are Francisco Franco’s native troops,
Moroccan Regulares, so I’m told.
Free to rape and kill, they are the first groups
Into attack. Completely uncontrolled,
Each Regulare picks his prey and swoops
Raping, maiming, and killing young or old.
Just the threat of unleashing these fierce hawks
Compels Comrade Republicans to talks.
Ronda Rousey just beat me up.
Beat me down would be more appropriate.
She choked me with her left arm over my neck
prolonging a breath to reach my lungs for a refresh.
I went for the elbow to the head, but she kicked out my legs
and I fell, metaphorically of course, on my death bed.
She wasn't done yet,
she had more to prove and less to expect.
I'll never again comment on a women's...
ability.
(Catena Ronda)
God knows our present past and future
He created us with a great plan in mind
He wants us saved and love in heart to find
God knows all our present past and future
He created us with a great plan in mind
God knows what's in store for you and me
He knows men' hearts and wants us free
He created us with a great plan in mind
God knows what's in store for you and me
And knows what's in our minds and hearts
He loves us all right from the very start
God knows what's in store for you and me
He knows everything out there for anyone to know
God knows our present past and future
This is a fact according to the Good Book for sure
He knows everything out there for anyone to know
God knows our present past and future
He created us with a great plan in mind
He wants us saved and love in heart to find
God knows all our present past and future
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2014
July,11,2014
Ran on a nod
No
Nod and ran
Or
Ran and nod
No
Darn
Ronda
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