Short Suppers Poems

bears wait in the river
salmon jump the fast rapids
suppers ready now...

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Brass 
bells ring
along swamps 
shadowy edge.
Children running free;
flutes echoing laughter;
cimmerian eyed beauty
hips swaying to an earthy beat.
Simple suppers roast over fire.
Welcoming the despised plebians home....

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Most folks attend church to worship and praise the Lord as a general rule,

But this is not necessarily the case for God-fearing Deacon Cletus O'Toole.

He religiously goes to church every Sunday to take a nap (such is his nerve!),

And partake of potluck suppers and to quaff the coffee and donuts they serve!...

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Church suppers in town are such fun,
And the genuine home cooking is second to none.
One man said to the server, “They ran out of my favorite pie!”
“Take it out of the tip,” was her hurried reply.
With a wink and a smile she picked him a different slice.
Then he left thinking, “Oh these church ladies are just so nice!”...

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I jumped on a bullfrog’s back.
He screamed, startled.
I calmed him down.
Then we started talking.

Coffee, lunch, no suppers.
He is my guy now.
But I had to take things slowly
And pretend I was subtle.

Sedate little me, bullfrog’s girl.
Façade in place twenty-four seven,
So I can get his side of the story 
On the Lily Pad murders.

What I wouldn’t do for a story,
I have not discovered yet.
Girl Reporter signing out.
Good night, fans. Shh....

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