One hundred eleven and not in heaven
Go where kilns can bake or leaven?
Me, thinks I hear a little bell
In a kind of just parallel
A southern welcoming grace
Jalapeño Tea-cakes …laced
Perhaps, calling all
With pale bits of Saul
Old farts to high tea
Washed down with rude litanies
And the current showings at the FU Theater
Thoughts of grace no longer on the meter
The horned one, not at all the wise
Thinks it is more important to chastise
Trashes un-guided lambs graces
But no matter, he ended up in one of those southern places...
Slippery Slope, Tennessee
May 22,2006
Debora Short
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/calling-old-farts-to-high-tea-rhyming-couplets/
