Short Twanging Poems

Paul met John twanging banjo, singing a medley
Awed at what he heard playing by The Quarrymen
Five became four struggling to reach a destiny
Boarding a plane on an eternal trip since then...

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I sat outside the saloon on a bench
just watching the rain muddy the dirt street.
I was in for wet feet or a long wait.
I played my Jew’s Harp with a twanging beat. 

My horse waited across the muddy road
tethered in front of Slates Emporium’s Stores
where I’d bought a couple of choice cigars
before having that drink behind bat doors.
6-16-18...

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Joyful frog sat on the rock and bellowed his happy song.
His banjo twanging a rhythm that was totally strong.
Isn’t that part of a human? Isn’t it kind of wrong?
Asked a hippie-like toad who was lighting up a bong.

It might have been part of a human back in the day.
But it has been sitting in the sun, and it’s here to stay.
We must find comfort in whatever we find said a vole.
As he took a swan dive into the skull’s left eye hole....

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