Knock, knock, let me in.
Tell your tale. Please begin.
My name is Barley Methedrine.
Oh no, Barley Methedrine, it's not.
Your name is Sorghum Apricot.
You put too much import in a name.
In the grand scheme, it's all the same.
Tell me what it is you do.
I'm chief superintendent of the zoo.
Oh no, you play drums, and study law,
and your name is Winston Panama.
True, but that was in my other life.
In this one, I play clarinet and fife,
and I must ask you to get into the sack.
A spiny anteater I lack.
That's the first thing you must do.
You'll be a fine specimen for my zoo.
(translated from Giosue Carducci)
I dream of gentle things. My freshman year,
a room where sun poured in, freedom from books,
the thundering carts on cobbles in the via,
a wreath of sorghum round my neck. To look
out from my window was unbroken joy:
one way those flower-carpeted old hills,
the other, sparkling shoreline: still a boy,
I splashed out on a suit, and shirts with frills!
I'll never know that animal verve again.
I'm sure that glittering sea, those slumbering isles,
were not like now, prosaic. And summer rain,
I swear, on mornings when it caught me, smiled.
Too bad
So sad
Chick farm
Coon harm
Coon harm
Alarm
Piled thick
Plucked chick
Bat, Gat
Our cats
You know
Juno
Dog guard
In yard
All day
They stay
All night
Keep sight
Thief quick
Took chick
Come back
Attack
New plan
Big, grand
Plan smart
Buy parts
Sorghum
Stick some
From store
Got more
Take heart
Here’s parts
Neat trick
Build Chick
Tar Chick
Real sick!
Coon could
Stick good
Chick out
Coon shout
“Chick, dear
Come here!”
Coon shout,
“Talk ‘bout!”
Chick still,
Coon shrill
What’s up?
Stuck up!
Coon laugh
Coon gaff
Romance
Try dance
Grab, take
Jar break
Real schmuck
Hands stuck
Feet stuck
No luck
Ill sought
Got caught
Toe, head
‘Ghum spread
Coon glued
Coon screwed
Coon balk
No talk
Coon scared
Fear bared
They say
“Away!”
Coon know,
Off go
Brave lack,
Not back.
Dog friend
For win!
Bat, Gat
Hero cats!
Hooray!
Save day!
In the midst of fiery crises
I miss cool, shady oases
O, Fountain, spring forth your fresh water
revive my land to evergreen
O, Abdim's storks, will you perch my neem?
O, white-feather, flaunting egrets
harbingers of rain,
and night croaking toads,
I've missed your glad tidings again
In the midst of hot desert dunes
I miss monsoons
and rows of sorghum
demarcated by a sorrel hedge
I miss evening drizzles
and their running clouds
nightly torrents
and showers between sunshines
Indefinite infinite confused calm why I'm rambling on cathartic release from a rebellious thorn bloom bloom says he I don't know feelings spinning sprinkling doubt what shall I write about lyric loneliness hysterical hymn I don't know whimsical whining silver lining they said the grass is greener it's still brown mystical mutant erroneous erogenous homogeneous horrors twilight terror inner voice indicative error mother always said trust your gut feeling but never gave me that choice smorgasbord sorghum location location location I know who I am but still I don't know.
The end dear friend is just the entry and he pointed, but he never meant me, it was the old man sat inside me that the message was intended for.
I sat and wondered about the door and what was it the entry for and could it be he meant me after all?
Then the timepiece changed into a watchtower and it changed back on the hour, every hour
what tricks these eyes can play
what puzzles and to blind.
In the end I wouldn't mind a new beginning
somewhere with a decent climate
and
slightly South of the equator
where I could do a baked
potato
on the rocks.
but don't worry
they'll twin you with a town up
in the Pyrenees
which
you'll find out
will be full up with
the Chinese who'll
be
making origami
chewing gum from
Sorghum and
reciting verses from a book
by ...tse Tung
The end is just a fixture
another game we play
away.
To my hometown of the sixties, I plunge in reverie,
recalling where I found myself in nineteen sixty-three.
Each fall, the biggest thing going - was going to the fair.
My town's the Sorghum Capital; cane fields still tassel there.
Talent contests, entering pageants, gave us identity.
I played piano several years; I won in sixty-three.
My embroidered pillow cases - the best of twenty-two,
the sorghum brownies I had made were chosen for the blue.
As a school project, I worked the cotton candy machine
and won a set of silverware the year I turned sixteen.
I tried out for Miss Sorghum Queen, but stumbled, it's no joke;
and later wrote that fable down - "The Fall My Zipper Broke."
Hawesville of fifty years ago defines this hometown girl.
Gracefulness found me wanting, yet God’s grace fulfills my world.
June 23, 2017
(after Giosue Carducci)
I dreamed of gentle things. My freshman year,
a room where sun poured in, freedom from books,
the thundering carts on cobbles in the via,
a wreath of sorghum round my neck. To look
out from my window was unbroken joy:
one way those flower-carpeted old hills,
the other, sparkling shoreline: still a boy,
I splashed out on a suit, and shirts with frills!
I'll never know that animal verve again.
I'm sure that glittering sea, those slumbering isles,
were not like now, prosaic. And summer rain,
I swear, on mornings when it caught me, smiled.
In his day he came riding on a colt
As he came by a unique name called Christ
His life spiced the world with eternal salt
And made him to be forever a Priest
He sustained his life with much of the corn
As he hated the beer from the sorghum
Not even once had he been found to con
He was not a man to chew bubblegum
As a small baby he did not have a cot
As an infant he slept near the cow dung
God did not allow his holy body to rot
The cross was his lot on which to be hung
He was formed as the only begotten Son
To fully illuminate earth as bright as sun
It tastes like heaven, with dripping cheese,
Pizza tempts me like sorghum does bees.
Mouth is overwhelmed by the deliciousness,
I am completely allured by the lusciousness.
Delectable, scrumptious, mouth-watering;
With the Mozzarella cheese topping.
Pizzas are not meant to be eaten in haste,
They’re meant for satisfying the craving for taste.
Pizzas have a firm round doughy brown bread base,
Their aroma tempts me from every pizzeria pizza showcase.
A little salty with a gooey satisfaction,
Even novice eaters show a wonderful reaction.
The way one wants, one can toss;
And top it with vegetables and red sauce.
Some prefer cheesy, some prefer meaty,
Some prefer chewy, some prefer crunchy.
Be it a great connoisseur or a novice pizza eater,
Pizza has a standing on everyone’s food meter.
that indian, he ain't come to town
still, summer's started windin' down
you can feel it in the air some how
this season's seasoning, time to avow
do soldiers march with cadence strident?
as sure of battles outcomes provident
as time of Sol marches across the sky
another summer season spent, gone by
still, the warmth will linger a bit more
'til Earth's tilting a cooler guarantor
that winter will soon tag this autumn
and nights long flow slow as sorghum
quarterly, we divide our seasonal pie
to save and share and partake thereby
turning our waterwheel of milling time
to something fervent, meaningful, sublime
so, i fervently wish to take this opportune
today, to share this halcyon afternoon
with you alone, ok maybe a pet or two
i love this life, i love this day, i love you
© Goode Guy 2011-08-22
The moon is bright, and the chores are done
Tonight's the night to have some fun!
The harvest in, calls for a night's hell-raisin'
Take me out in the old hay wagon!
Not far to go, where the old dirt road ends
There on the left, where the oak branch bends
Let's hurry, Pa! ....Hitch the old grey mare!
We'll share with folks sorghum pies I've made
Stop la gaging, there's some moonshine waitin'
I'll wear my calico, with petticoats wavin'
Fiddles playin', and banjos are strummin'
Feet are flying, to some do-si-do-ing!
We'll kick up heels, with a still of whiskey
Come'on old man, while I'm feeling frisky!!!
___________________________________
For the Hoe Down Contest:
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