She wanted pineapple
Not green banana
They bought from the market a bandana
A head cover to go to the chapel
He asked them to drive him
He didn't care to walk
All they did was stand and talk
A ploy to annoy him
© gillena cox 2023
REVISIT TO READ
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THIS IS MONDAY WRITES 408
A HAPPY AUGUST TO ALL
You've heard about the Monday Blues
well this is Monday WRites (musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance for eg the rite of afternoon tea).
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The Meeting by Harriet Monroe, (1860-1936)
The ox-team and the automobile
Stood face to face on the long red road.
The long red road was narrow
At the turn of the hill,
And below was the sun-dancing river
Afoam over the rocks.
The mild-mannered beasts stood par, chewing their cud.
The stubble-bearded man from the mountains,
Rustier than his wagon,
Unmoving eyed the proud chauffeur.
The little ragged girl,
With sun-bleached hair,
Sitting on a hard, yellow-powdery bag,
Looked across at the smart motor hats of the ladies,
And their chiffon scarfs
That the light breeze fingered.
The proud chauffeur blew his horn,
But nothing moved –
Except the foaming, sun-dancing river down below.
Then he jerked his head,
And turned the wheel,
And slowly, carefully,
The automobile moved back over the long red road.
And the mild-mannered beasts lifted their feet,
And the stubble-bearded man flipped his rein,
And the ragged little girl looked ahead up the hill,
And the ox-team lumbered and limped over the long red road.
Found this poem HERE
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Stood face to face on the long red road.
The long red road was narrow
At the turn of the hill,
And below was the sun-dancing river
Afoam over the rocks.
The mild-mannered beasts stood par, chewing their cud.
The stubble-bearded man from the mountains,
Rustier than his wagon,
Unmoving eyed the proud chauffeur.
The little ragged girl,
With sun-bleached hair,
Sitting on a hard, yellow-powdery bag,
Looked across at the smart motor hats of the ladies,
And their chiffon scarfs
That the light breeze fingered.
The proud chauffeur blew his horn,
But nothing moved –
Except the foaming, sun-dancing river down below.
Then he jerked his head,
And turned the wheel,
And slowly, carefully,
The automobile moved back over the long red road.
And the mild-mannered beasts lifted their feet,
And the stubble-bearded man flipped his rein,
And the ragged little girl looked ahead up the hill,
And the ox-team lumbered and limped over the long red road.
Found this poem HERE
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For every Monday in August the Word is CLOTH Link up with one of your posts where the word CLOTH is present or the theme CLOTH is presented
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