Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 136

Tomorrow is D-Day. That is, Due Day for Tammy and I and our first daughter, Hannah Marie. We’re super excited (and, yes, a little stressed). If everything goes as it should, I’ll be posting images on Facebook and my blog. So keep an eye out.


For this week’s prompt, write a welcoming poem. You could be welcoming a stranger, a friend, an enemy, a season, a new way of life, etc. Of course, I’m going to use this prompt to write my first poem (of many) for Hannah Marie.

Here’s my attempt:

“for hannah”

these mornings
meteorologists give air quality alerts
and radio commentators
mention the beauty
of a full moon
with smog
filtering the light

i wish i could tell you the world
will be perfect
when you arrive like the moon
on time
but there is a beauty
in our imperfections
and the way
we try to look at things

light shines and reflects
bodies spin
and then
we have faith


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136 thoughts on “Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 136

  1. Sara V

    Pearl! Never invisible–always noted 🙂

    Sara McN–thank you very much for the compliment, I enjoyed your shardoma as well, especially the intro play on words–nice!

    Mike Maher–really enjoyed the flow and how you wove the caring into the actions-it was very soothing and really wonderful thoughts/words!

  2. Sally Jadlow


    In six weeks
    I’ll see your sweet face,
    my thirteenth grandchild;
    hold you in my arms,
    and take in your precious scent.

    Welcome to this world,
    little one.
    May your presence
    bring the peace of Jesus
    to many.

  3. Arash

    Here’s a first draft of my poem, In the Home.

    In the Home

    Lips turned indigo, fingers huddled, no
    movement in the room, no words spoken or
    no words pass through the door. Bodies fixed,
    no, look,
    they move,
    but suddenly,
    hands unclench, as they see him, welcome him,
    no, they greet, their own future in the home.

  4. Daniel Ari

    untitled (about what)

    I’d like to welcome all things without names.
    Not almond slivers, spring fever or motherboards.
    Not baby’s breath, embouchure, heliofranticulating or stein lids.

    But this poem isn’t a muster roll call, award pageant or paean.
    It’s an open field of summer that barely contains its own accord.
    It’s something like the unnamed soul of a fictive goat kid.

    I want to invite not those things either but my own mind to the game
    of conceiving what things might fall through a sky-lintelled undoor.
    Try to describe in a teenager’s vocabulary the face of God.

    Does everything called a dandelion look the same?
    Please don’t label the line between the winter tree and the apple core.
    The phenomena of names is only a grown-up cloud

    that has insertions where some other welcome waterflame
    verbing unaboutly holidays its last shardcords
    (of deselected ancientless pluribus-tethered kiteydids).


  5. PKP aka Pearl Ketover Prilik

    Lovely trip with you SE… As far as Jack he has the grandest gift a chiild can be given, the ability, encouragement, support and joy from others in being and becoming himself in all his varied shades of being. What a lucky little guy surrounded with compassionate, respectful LOVE….Thank you for sharing Jack once again ….looking forward to James as the J’s story continues to unfold. <3. 🙂

  6. S.E.Ingraham

    Congratulations to you and Tammy Robert, and welcome Hannah! Since we will be doing much the same in less than a week (only as the grandparents – of course,that’s where my sentiments went also).

    Jack’s Getting a Baby Brother

    “Baby! Baby!” Jack tells everyone
    Excitedly as he leads them—
    Chubby little legs pumping—
    Down the hall to the nursery

    “Whee!” He plops his stuffed
    Elephant in the baby swing
    And gives it a hearty push
    Then another – he is sooo happy

    “What does an elephant say Jack?”
    He raises his arm in an eerily
    Correct Nazi salute, or, an elephant
    Trunk trumpeting – grinning wickedly
    (Jack, not the elephant)

    Then, takes the grey guy to the next
    Baby seat – a bouncy contraption
    Nearer the floor and gives him a ride
    On that too – Grandma has visions

    Of the new baby being jostled severely
    But Mom assures her they will be
    “Keeping a close eye on enthusiastic
    Big brother who so much wants to help …”

    In less than a week, James will be the fourth
    “J” in this family of “J’s” – my doing, I’m afraid
    They had thought to name this child Owen
    But I protested, saying – what if you don’t
    have another child? He will be the only non-J

    It seems a small thing maybe, but I refer to
    Them, as a family, as a group, as “the J’s”
    And so do many others – would it be right
    To have three J’s and an O? I don’t think so

    And me, swearing to never be an interfering
    Mother-in-law, mother, grandmother – am being
    Just that, it seems – so tried to butt out gracefully
    But – it seems my work there was done –

    They immediately started considering only names
    That began with “J” – whew – disaster avoided
    At least he’ll know he’s welcome in the land of J!

    As for Jack – as enthusiastic as he is
    He’s also touchy and more closely
    Stuck to his mother than ever …

    A perceptive little person, he knows
    His world is about to be rocked, I think
    And it’s something to behold in one so young

    This propensity to be tough, to try not to cry
    I can even see him grit his teeth at times
    And look away – not always of course
    Sometimes he just dissolves and wants his mommy

    But sometimes he makes heroic efforts
    To be a little man and that’s heart-breaking
    Where does he get that kind of courage?
    Neither parent demands it of him

    And of course, his Grandpa and I are mush
    So how does he know he needs to develop
    This inner strength already? He won’t be two
    Until August – an old soul? Maybe so …

  7. PKP aka Pearl Ketover Prilik

    To all on " the street" Sheri has been a reader and never a submitter. I encouraged Sheri to give us a try….we really do not bite or even snarl. Sheri has been a no. Fiction writer, now returning to her first love of things poetic. I think we are all fortunate to be gaining a haiku gal. SOOO HAPPY THAT YOU ARE NOW STROLLING …,
    ah. " welcoming darkness together" beautiful line.

  8. Michael Grove

    Magic Bullet

    You’ve been shot with a magic bullet
    Now you will never die.
    You will live forever
    In a mansion in the sky.

    You have been forgiven
    of all the fleshy wrongs.
    Love is now your passion.
    Share it with the earthly throngs.

    The magic bullet hit your heart.
    Exploded into dust.
    From the gun of The One
    who said this is a must.

    This magic bullet never killed.
    It brings new life you see.
    So welcome to a brave new world
    for all eternity.

    by Michael Grove

  9. Dennis Wright

    A Welcome Poem

    Like newly formed snow
    laid upon each other,
    in a long, cold winter,

    I stand in the morning,
    and wait for the sun,
    in the frost of dawn,

    When the sound of the wind
    is a tune upon a song,
    sung by a new voice,

    Arrived just this morn.

  10. Sara McNulty

    Some that stood out for me: Salvatore – so powerful!
    Cameron – "that and the pitted seeds of strawberries" – lovely
    Sara V – "A snapping happy hot fire" – love those words
    Joseph H. – "well-heeled avenues and across venous netting of streets" – wonderful
    Rachel – "rain pours into silent street" – I love that image.
    Patricia H. – "Darkness tries to press my tears through sieving lashes" – beautifully said
    Walt – Feet to the Ground, Head to the Stars – So beautifully written
    Dr. Pearl – Welcome? – so blue and so true

  11. PKP aka Pearl Ketover Prilik

    Frangipangi Found

    From frigid unforgiving freeze
    doors open silken slid
    spilled stunned onto
    tarmac tumbled into
    purpled evening enfolding
    in soft lavendar arms
    the way to the turquoise sea
    whispered wondrous warmth
    wafting perfumed promise
    of ever-land entered

  12. Claudia Schönfeld

    the princess is back

    we’re sitting on the floor,
    unwrapping ten long months
    of vida boliviana – and color
    spreads, mingles with spanish
    conversation as

    she calls a friend to tell her
    that she’s safely back and
    i don’t understand a word,
    just feel the warmth & closeness,
    threads of amistad spreading
    across half the globe and

    this is where she left her
    footprints, where she grew
    those wings, sparkling like
    sunshine in her smile and there’s
    much love as we’re unpacking
    story upon story

    and it feels like she was never
    gone and didn’t change a bit
    but in her eyes glimmers another
    world – i see the mountains and
    the heights and kids with
    darkish cherry ojos writing
    notes of love and asking “Are there
    stars in Germany?”

    there are & i know,
    i met someone precious today .

    (my eldest daughter returned back home today after working for 10 months in a school in la paz, bolivia..)

  13. PKP aka Pearl Ketover Prilik


    "Give us your hungry tired and poor"
    As long as they do not eat our food, need a bed or work for pay

    "Your huddled masses yearning to be free"
    As long as the do not congregate and keep holding to their way

    "The wretched refuse of your teeming shore"
    As long as they do not disembark and expect in things a say

    "Send these, tempest-tost to me"
    As long as they understand that tossed back very well they may

    "I lift my lamp beside the golden door"
    As long as they do not expect to feel the soft light of welcome’s ray

    It is just the way things are today

  14. Barbara Ehrentreu

    I have recently had a few minutes to myself:) People who know me know what I mean

    Welcome to free time
    I have longed for you
    Wanting your amorphous space
    and lack of schedule
    Yearning for the passionate release
    as I surrender myself to you
    and tensions ease in your embrace.

  15. PKP aka Pearl Ketover Prilik

    For MiskMask

    Welcome to another prompt
    of a week or two ago
    a prompt that many here will
    recall – that with certitude I know
    The prompt dealt with priority
    of which it is plain to see
    that you savoring each precious moment
    have mastered prioritizing your poetic energy


  16. Michael Grove


    Nail your colors to the mast.
    Swim in the Rubicon.
    Never cross that river,
    unless you must move on.

    The point of no return is now
    within your feeble hand.
    the waters flow so swiftly
    past the paralleling land.

    The bridge above you is a gift.
    No tolls to pay or earn.
    A two lane, two way bridge was built
    that was not meant to burn.

    By Michael Grove

  17. MiskMask

    Robert, my very best wishes to you and your family’s new daughter. I hope that all goes well.

    I am reading all of the lovely submissions for this week’s prompt but apologise for not posting a poem of my own. I only have a few days left with my grandchildren before they return to America, so my priorities and energy are with them right now.

  18. Barbara Ehrentreu

    Robert, I’ve come out of my prose world to write this for your new daughter. Congratulations! I haven’t seen the photos, but I’m sure she is beautiful!

    Welcome sweet Hannah

    Welcome sweet Hannah
    Your coming radiates
    Throughout the poetic world.
    As you gradually open
    innocent baby eyes
    would that the world be filled
    with soft, fluffy mounds
    Yupik which your new body
    will lay in slender
    as you make sense
    of the chaos around you.

    Strangers sing your praises, but we are
    outside your world
    and for now you will
    bask in the joy and love emanating
    from your esteemed daddy and the
    warm glowing mommy who hold you
    More cherished than their best poem
    In their loving arms.

  19. Bruce Niedt

    Welcome to the Rectangle

    Step into my universe,
    an imaginary box that floats
    over a five-sided rubber slab.

    I crouch, masked, in judgment,
    a few feet behind, and I decree
    the placement of balls hurled
    into that vicinity, high or low,
    inside, outside, ball or strike.

    Pitchers paint the corners,
    catchers use their body English,
    batters try to check their swing.

    But I am the final arbiter,
    judge, jury, executioner.
    So take it like a man –
    arguments are irrelevant
    when you’re called out.

    Don’t let me find you in contempt,
    or I’ll clear my courtroom of you
    with a thumb thrust into the air.

  20. Sam Nielson

    At the Park

    I sit near the playground
    In a pleasant bubble
    Of children’s voices,
    A yell, laughter burbling
    In a stream.
    In the distance I hear the crack
    Of softball hitting a bat.
    The players with red leggings,
    Ants in a crawling strategy
    Against those in black against
    The green growing.

    At sunset, a breeze shifts around,
    Moseying-in breathy and huffy.
    A snow of cottonwood fluff
    Drifts through like welcomed
    Low-hanging clouds.
    Fluff sticks around my feet
    And gathers against the red slide.

  21. Sam Nielson


    He returned from the war
    With too darkened eyes veiled
    And the rhythm beat of thousands
    Of artillery rounds in his head.
    The concussive whoosh, whistle
    And flash boom terror
    Only stays on in memories
    And in dreams at night
    When his guard is down.

  22. Rose Anna Hines

    Sitting on the cool concrete bench
    in blooming garden
    with basil, thyme, rosemary, oregano
    planters surrounding bench corners
    delicate fragrances tip toe to across my face.

    I scan the tomato plants, peppers,
    squash, peas, cucumbers, corn..
    Get up and pick some lavender, tarragon,
    dill, catnip, and cilantro inhaling their essence.

    Then I begin my ritual chant
    as I circle around each plant.
    "Worms slither and till happily beneath my feet.
    Spiders weave your garments and feel free to eat.
    Lady bugs fly, search for aphid treat.
    Bees most happy to hear your buzz
    and to your presence I bow and you I greet.

    Slugs and snails to my garden plot, please retreat
    leave, you are not welcome, to my neighbors go NOW
    crawl, run, scurry for if I you meet
    You WILL surely by ground under my feet"

  23. Mike Bayles

    Butterfly to a Patch of Ground

    You capture the sunlight
    with paper like wings.

    You ride a gentle breeze
    at the break of dawn.

    Without a word
    you sing a song

    of your becoming,
    the season’s young.

    You are the beauty
    in the midst of parking lots.

    You are a moment’s waking
    a moment’s dream.

  24. Walt Wojtanik


    Little one.
    Home you’ve come to take your place.
    A fresh face shining in the glow
    of a pristine new life. Your eyes
    have yet to see the beauty around you,
    but know you’ve added to it in a big way.
    Today, you join the world a part of the
    solution to the future you possess.
    Inside your small chest beats a heart,
    the spark of life that burns brightly
    through you. It holds the capacity
    to love unbridled and unconditional,
    a traditional vault for the secrets
    you will amass. Locked away for this day,
    and everyday here after. Your mother carries
    you in her heart for much longer
    than her stomach ever did. Your father stands,
    the fortress that protects and provides
    all you will require for right now.
    He will show you how this world will
    embrace you and push you away in the same motion.
    I have a notion you will remember both sensations
    and return for as many embraces as your soul
    will accept. Will you be adept at expression
    as your parents are? Will you break hearts and
    be the shining star in your little galaxy?
    Will you move forward, one step at a time
    all the while with a rhyme and a smile?
    Follow your dreams, new little sister,
    and show every brother mister you can take
    all they have to give and live in their glow
    as they surely will in yours. And love,
    Little One. Because that’s how you will grow.
    Take your place Little One. Home you’ve come.

  25. Linda M. Rhinehart Neas

    Beautiful poem, Robert!

    This is what I wrote after rushing to meet my first granddaughter as she entered this world.


    The day began as all others.
    Responsibilities lay in wait as I rushed to meet them.
    Daily tedium rained through the morning,
    The gray skies of doubt and indecision placed
    A pall over the Sunshine of Hope.

    Just as I prepared for rest,
    The call came to rush to our designated meeting.
    Evening descended with fog and rain.
    The sky shone white in the headlights
    As I drove into the Light of Night.

    Just as you pushed into Life,
    I pushed wide the doors of your room.
    Reaching your side, tears rained down,
    Clouds of doubt and longing parted.
    The Sun of Love glowed supreme.

    The day began like no other,
    The first day after my birth and yours.
    Tears had given way to coos and smiles…
    Mornings clouds mimicked the pink of your cheeks
    As I held you close to my grandmother heart.

  26. Patricia A. Hawkenson

    Drink Up

    Darkness tries to press my tears
    through sieving lashes
    while the covers gut twist me
    my glass now empty.

    But exhaustion gives way
    to wispy uncatchable dreams
    where I dance in twirls
    my feet not on the floor.

    Morning is not welcome
    through my shaded eyelids
    the sun that yesterday wouldn’t shine
    spills today like curdled milk.

  27. Bruce Niedt

    Sorry I’ve been MIA lately – a lot on my plate, including the West Chester Poetry Conference, which was all kinds of awesome, especially getting to work with Molly Peacock! See my blog for more details.
    Also I just got my copy of the July/August Writer’s Digest and saw my sonnet right there on page 15. Thanks again, Robert! And best of luck on the new arrival – loved the poem!

    I hope to have a new poem for y’all this week….

  28. Nancy Posey


    Like secret markings on the fence
    drawing hungry hoboes to the door
    or quilts upon the line whose patterns
    beckoned passengers inside to ride
    that railroad underground, her door
    brought drop-ins, strangers, friends,
    down on their luck, some more hungry
    for home—any home—than food.

    We never asked what instinct made
    her always cook a little more or
    how she knew beforehand to set
    an extra place at the table. No one,
    no matter how unannounced, departed
    without a gift, food, a clean shirt, coins
    jingling in a pocket arriving empty.

    Since we belonged there at her table,
    clothed, warmed beside her fire—she made
    sure we knew that—it took years to see
    she gave herself away as much for us
    as those in need. The gift we took away,
    going at last out into the world, warming
    our sometimes empty pockets, filling
    our bellies when no food did, the certainty
    that all was ours to give, not to expect.
    From her, we learned the bounty of giving.

  29. Rachel Green

    The Best April in Years

    The warm weather continues.
    Dry days segue into starry nighs
    windows open to the street
    and the blue light of televisions
    flickering behind curtains.

    “The best April in years,” they said,
    “like summer come early.”

    I walk past, the tang of hot asphalt
    occluding the wallflowers of front gardens
    the tang of cat piss and worse
    from the bins at the back of the pizzeria
    my hair escapes its tight bun

    and blows about my face.
    In the breeze I smell the freshness of rain,
    the memory of seaward tumbling
    and the cry of herring gulls
    beneath a green-shrouded cliff.

    Rejoicing in the starless air,
    dancing in the moonlight
    as the rain pours into silent streets
    hissing against the leaves
    of the ever-present sycamores

    “The best April in years,” they said,
    “like summer come early.”

  30. vivienne blake

    I was quick!


    All are welcome in our home.
    We hope for the same whenever we roam.
    Warmth and food are good,
    cheerful conversation better –
    and laughter best of all.
    Afterwards, a thank-you letter.

  31. vivienne blake

    I hope all goes well for you and your wife today, assuming Hannah Marie is punctual. I only just received your Update, which means a zillion others have probably said the same thing already. My good wishes are nonetheless sincere.

    By the time I’ve written a welcome poem, the prompt will probably be history!


  32. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    come follow sweet foal
    by juanita lewison-snyder

    come follow sweet foal,
    into this field of poppies
    red and yellow and green
    beneath your newborn frogs so tender.
    we’ll follow your dam to where
    the best grass lies still
    for hide-and-seek and nap taking.
    i’ll tickle your muzzle hairs
    and pretend-brush the russet down
    that is your hide until you
    rear, or snort, or nip back in jest.
    we’ll spend the coming summer
    catching reflections in one another’s eyes,
    and savoring golden delicious apples
    under blue skies and summer rains
    while you grow into the leather halter
    i made for you when you were but
    a small teddy bear tucked
    safely away in your mother’s belly,
    and i first heard your soft whinny
    impatient against her womb,
    eager to bring the welcome banner
    to us instead.

    © 2011 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

  33. Domino Diana Terrill Clark

    Welcome to the World

    Birth – it is a glorious miracle.
    Messy, difficult
    but wonderful.

    I remember the moment
    I saw each of my sons
    for the first time.

    And on their birthdays
    I call them
    and tell them how
    beautiful they were.

    And they groan
    and pretend they don’t like it.


    Words of welcome he
    Made to Johnny Ringo: “I’m
    Your huckleberry."

  34. PKP aka Pearl Ketover Prilik

    well come

    Body slack reclined abed
    Fingers on keys uncoordinated
    As thoughts dance and waver teasing inner head
    Ready simply shut the bright light
    Blocking the velvet darkness of quiet night
    Well come all ready for the soft slipped surrendered peace
    Time has run its course through on this day’s lease

  35. Rob Halpin


    Welcome to the Rest of Your Life
    Like it or not, your yesterdays are gone
    Welcome to the rest of your life
    It begins anew with every dawn
    Like it or not, your yesterdays are gone
    Bring or stow your bags, it’s time to move on
    Less traveled? Well-worn? The pathways are rife
    Like it or not, your yesterdays are gone
    Welcome to the rest of your life

  36. Joseph Harker

    A bit late, but congratulations Robert and Tammy!! 🙂


    unless you are ready to let the heat in, these summer nights
    when night pools dank and deep along the street corners
    populated by men screaming nonsense

    unless you have an eye for the boys in tank tops and cutoffs,
    wearing sunglasses even when the sun has forgotten
    why it came to such places at all

    unless you straighten your back and plant your heels
    in the jetsam of leaflets and newspapers, when the neighborhood
    throws open its doors and spreads itself

    unless you feel the pulse of this organ pumping feverish blood
    up well-heeled avenues and across venous netting of streets
    pregnant with friends-to-be and old romance

    unless you wash your face with liquid moonlight dropped down
    placid and pale from a great height, summer moonlight
    clotted from a sweatstained eclipse

    unless you can count every crack in the crumbling sidewalk
    and think, this is where I could lay myself to sleep,
    surrounded by ten thousand perfect hollow bodies

    unless you hear the echo of empty people as a concerto in skin,
    finding it the best kind of hospitality, on these warm evenings
    growing ever warmer, and longer, and more alike

  37. Brenda Olmsted

    Welcome, Hannah Marie. And Congratulations to you and your wife Robert. Praying all goes well. Brenda

    I am almost afraid to post as there are so many wonderful poets here. But here is my attempt.


    The evening sky turns red and orange,
    A sudden burst of sunlight penetrates
    The overhanging clouds, casting its bright rays
    To the valley floor before it disappears, leaving
    The sky an ominous gray. The light is
    Gone and dark settles over us like a
    Blanket on a cold winter day.
    Huddled around the campfire we burn
    Marshmallows. Roasting each other
    With wit that has been too long in coming
    This most difficult of days, packing and
    Driving to our favorite vacation spot
    Amidst angry words. Cool night air,
    Soft sounds of the night. It is evening
    In the woods and we are for once silenced by
    Fireflies floating through the air, frogs
    Croaking, grasses shivering, an owl’s hoot.
    Soft shimmers of the night crawl up my
    Spine. And we pause, each sensing the long
    Desired welcome into the presence of holiness.

  38. Marie Elena

    Just now finally got a chance to bop over to pick up the prompt. Congratulations again, Robert and Tammy! Add my prayers and warm smiles to the others. What a blessed baby she is, with an entire poetic family from ’round the world awaiting her arrival. Can’t wait to see photos!

  39. Joseph Beckman

    Good luck Daddy Brewer. I dedicate my bird nest experience today to you and yours:)
    Nature’s Selections
    Bird dad, your nest, it slips from its place,
    I return it with tape and mesh, I hope it is safe
    From slipping, ensuring the bowl will hold all
    Five eggs from your wife she wants not to fall.
    Kids you stay quietly until you can fly,
    If you fall, please hide quietly off to the side,
    For timing is everything in life and in death,
    It matters not wealth but better, the nest,
    If poorly constructed, and not that much room,
    As three siblings find air, but two, perhaps doom
    With their immature flight when mother brings food,
    They are pushed prematurely, it seems a bit rude,
    Now they stand very quietly, their eyes barely open,
    Am I Zeus or the Father, my efforts are token,
    As I gently collect them to move them to cover,
    Can your parents protect you? Will it soon be over,
    ‘Cause canines and talons, they stand at their table
    To define your existence, as musicians or staple,
    For I turn from my role, as judicator of life,
    To gather some twigs and things with my wife,
    To firm up the nest we have built for our son,
    A deified protector, no, I am not One,
    I must look to Another, my eyes barely open,
    I quietly pray please protect our dear son.
    Wondering, pondering, the years become eons,
    The man, like the bird, becomes nature’s wee peons,
    We roll from our mound like a small primate sloth,
    Our eyes arching upward for nature has wrought,
    That we are the begging, and trusting for care,
    For standing like redwoods, humansects are here.

    © June 15, 2011 by Joseph Beckman

  40. Buddah Moskowitz

    Welcome to the Mine

    You need to be prepared
    to outwit the frustration
    work past buckets of sweat
    and mostly persevere.

    We miners
    tinker ceaselessly
    blessed infrequently with
    a sliver
    a sparkle.

    Some days there is
    so much to harvest
    and sometimes it’s a glint
    and that’s all you’re gonna get.

    When you don that prospector’s helmet
    and dive deep into the mineshaft
    where it’s dark and spooky,
    remember, it’s a numbers game
    and sometimes
    all you’ll have to show for your work
    is yesterday’s dust.

    You gotta like the digging,
    the challenge of breaking rock,
    disrupting the Earth
    and finding something new.

    So, welcome,

    now pick up
    your pencil
    and get at it.

  41. Sara McNulty

    Triolet – A Toast

    So good to see you, said she to he,
    What a lovely bottle of wine.
    It’s been many months since you’ve been free,
    So good to see you, said she to he.
    As soon as their first glass was empty,
    He gasped and fell back, supine.
    So good to see you, said she to he
    What a lovely bottle of wine.


    Shardoma – The Meeting

    Well, come in.
    Finally we get to meet.
    Your picture
    on Facebook
    does you a great injustice;
    you’re not tall and lean.


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