Poems of Lighthouse Bob
The Artist and the Porcupine #465
The Artist and the Porcupine The desert sun was beaming down, Was beaming its demise: He did so for he loved to see His face within the skies- And this was odd, because, you know, The sun can burn your eyes. Well, Mother Earth was quite upset With sun's impudent state And took it on herself to cause His ego to deflate- "Your very rude!" she said with dread And made moon his soul mate. The moon did spoon the sunny dunes With her amazing glow While sun just shunned embarrassment To show his moon, you know, And Mother Earth, well, laughed with glee When stars all winked, "Hello!" The Artist and the Porcupine Shot hoops upon the shore Of barren lake of which its wakes Poured out what once in poured And, though they both grew weary, Their score was two to four. Now, they surmised it a surprise They'd even scored at all, Because they had no hoop to loop And had no basket ball, But, yet, it seemed the normal thing That well shots, well, should fall. "Say, can I shoot some hoops with you?" The hissing Rattler hissed, "I've played B-ball for many years, And, yet, I've scarcely missed: I promise you some wicked shots! Come, now, you can't resist!" The Artist thought, "How can it be? How can this serpent play?" The Artist figured it must be Some trick, some slick display- And, so, he quickly picked it up And threw the ball his way. The Rattler grabbed the ball at once And swiftly pose did choose, Once scrambled down the court with ease And scoring threes and twos- And this was odd, because, you know, The serpent wore no shoes. "It seems to me," the Rattler said, "You've really got this down, So let's play now, right now, today To see who owns this town! And, then, my friends, we'll, in the end, We'll know who wears the crown!" The Artist and the Porcupine Agreed to take him on- "But, Wait!' the Rattler, then, replied With lisp and with a yawn, "This is not fair! There's two of you! …For this I am withdrawn." "OK," the Artist said, "I see, We want this to be fair, So, let's talk rules-Like artist's tools; What size? What brush? What hairs? And, if, on palettes, colors bleed, Can those to prose compare?" "I don't know what you're saying, Dude," The eager Rattler said, "But, if you want to play B-ball, It best you check your head And concentrate on playing straight And worry less instead." "I choose the Devil," said the snake "He is my coach, my friend And he will never let me down, On him I can depend- Now, if you're ready, Wannabes, Let's let the games begin!" "Just wait a few, Without-a-clues, This desert must be done, But, since, it's this, that you insist, We'll stop and have some fun- … I think you'd best be on your ways, You've got the ball! Now, Run!" The Artist stomped the Devil's head And grabbed the Rattler's tail- And, slung out on the desert sand, The serpent squirmed and flailed Until, at last, its life had passed And, there, became the trail. The Porcupine just shrugged his spine, "I thought there'd be more fight?" "Of course not, my dear prickly friend, Their barks were worse than bites! Now, if you will, please, one more quill That I might paint this right." |
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The Artist and the Porcupine #465
The Artist and the Porcupine #465