What I Drank: Amaretto And Pineapple
By Cynthia Ditch
I remember thinking backwards
When my stories made more sense
When lyrics came out in verse
Instead of staggered on the fence.
No words have you yet you scream in bars
What ever shall you do?
When your visions begin to dance and sway
And reality has long since left you?
Ode to a Toad
You scream hey nonnie nonnie
Repeating words like the talking butterfly
Walking around befuddled and dumb-drunkie
Tipping glasses and breaking plates
No whole in the ground you’d evict
A rightful dwarf you would make.
With less dire needs nor self crucifix
Still wondering the backwards game?
Forgotten all my rhyme?
My passion lies in things I read
Without the reason of the time.
Whats printed on the page
Or in book or tombstone head
Are things for you and I
Lest we rest upon lasts bed.
But lyrics voices and words of true
remain when best they shared.
When children sing of silly games
And legends they have heard.
For give me not my ramble scramble
and mix up of different tales
Here I am as a Kitsune
all them tied along the rails.
Nine of them for you and me,
Fine breed of readers creed
have we forgotten where I was?
Oh yes, and to speak the deed.
Manners manners forget them all,
After all this you know not me
You call to old and fiction stays
Come dance in the rain and you will see.
I am small to the eye
An inch or so
best reflected on the page
No matter what page each phrase I know
As “All the world is a stage!”
From mad scientist to sultans harem
Still no bells? My Ring-a-Ding-Ding Kid?
A libraries pet, the book worm.
