Dose 'Melons
phishgod
Posts: 133
Dose ‘Melons
Din’tcha ever
slidey unner
da farmer’s fence
next door a
hot summer night
an’ thumpa thumpa
on dose ‘melons
all rip’nin’
on the vine
as sweet as
Life itself,
then heistya
uppa heftiest two,
the ripes’ of
da bunch,
an slidey
back unner
da farmer’s
fence all
silent-like
to race
‘neath
the moonbeams
off the far side
the cornfield
an sittee down
an alfalfa knoll
an’ carve ya
up some slice
o’ sweet an’
ol’ rusty
pockey knife,
an’ eat
an’ eat,
an’eat,
the juices
ripey sweet
a-streamin’
down yer
face an’ cheek
an’ hands
a-sticky
sticky
so’s ya
wipe ‘em
an’ wipe ‘em
on alfalfa ground
or old torn
bluejean leg
an’ smile,
an’ smile,
an’ eat,
an’ eat,
‘tills ya
can’t eat
no more
an’ the
melon rinds
all piled up
like ol’ bones,
a little hill
o’ evidence
of the feast
of Life,
then lay ya
back an’
BELCH!
content
an gazee’ up
the brilliant moon
an’ smoke
a sticky cigarette
an’ ponder
on the sweetness
of Life,
as fine as
that farmer’s
‘melon patch
a hot summer night,
‘til the dark
grows cold
with shadows
of mornin’
an’ then
sneaky-sneak
home, up
the back stair
a-skippin’ tha’
ol’ number
two-step
so’s it don’t
CREAK! an’
wake up yore mamma
an’ then tumble
on yore bed
an’ sleep
to the smells of
the Joys of
the pleasures
of Life,
an’ I
can still
smell dose
‘melons now.
Din’tcha ever?
--September 27, 1993
@pth
Din’tcha ever
slidey unner
da farmer’s fence
next door a
hot summer night
an’ thumpa thumpa
on dose ‘melons
all rip’nin’
on the vine
as sweet as
Life itself,
then heistya
uppa heftiest two,
the ripes’ of
da bunch,
an slidey
back unner
da farmer’s
fence all
silent-like
to race
‘neath
the moonbeams
off the far side
the cornfield
an sittee down
an alfalfa knoll
an’ carve ya
up some slice
o’ sweet an’
ol’ rusty
pockey knife,
an’ eat
an’ eat,
an’eat,
the juices
ripey sweet
a-streamin’
down yer
face an’ cheek
an’ hands
a-sticky
sticky
so’s ya
wipe ‘em
an’ wipe ‘em
on alfalfa ground
or old torn
bluejean leg
an’ smile,
an’ smile,
an’ eat,
an’ eat,
‘tills ya
can’t eat
no more
an’ the
melon rinds
all piled up
like ol’ bones,
a little hill
o’ evidence
of the feast
of Life,
then lay ya
back an’
BELCH!
content
an gazee’ up
the brilliant moon
an’ smoke
a sticky cigarette
an’ ponder
on the sweetness
of Life,
as fine as
that farmer’s
‘melon patch
a hot summer night,
‘til the dark
grows cold
with shadows
of mornin’
an’ then
sneaky-sneak
home, up
the back stair
a-skippin’ tha’
ol’ number
two-step
so’s it don’t
CREAK! an’
wake up yore mamma
an’ then tumble
on yore bed
an’ sleep
to the smells of
the Joys of
the pleasures
of Life,
an’ I
can still
smell dose
‘melons now.
Din’tcha ever?
--September 27, 1993
@pth
rockon,
phishgod
phishgod
Post edited by Unknown User on
0
Comments
What a pretty smile.
Let's see, maybe I'll
put the Dental Hygenist Poem
up next, see if I can
maybe make you laugh....
teehee
phishgod
Boy, you sure know how to make a girl blush!
That would be delightful, your words...I'm speechless, what can I say but THANK YOU!