Monday, May 12, 2008

Express delivery

Express Delivery

The poet sat armed

With his pod and pen

Facing the fearsome

deadlines again

The poet was a master

The poet was a tease

He knew very well

Just How to please

“Give them mush”

he was fond of saying.

“Mush is the way to get ‘em”.

He sat with his pen

waiting for the mush

to come out surging

With the familiar gush

The hunger, the craving

The passion, the yen

But none poured

Out of his seasoned pen!

He shook his pen,

and dipped his pen

In the bottle of mush

Again and again,

Oh No! The bottle,

was dry as a bone!

He was out of mush

He thought with a groan.

The days went by

The pen stayed dry,

No longer could wait

in this desperate state,

So he set out to dial

two eight eight eight

eight eight eight eight!


rush a refill of mush

Premium, Commercial or refined!

Anything is fine.

This is a matter of

life and death

My mush-less muse is

Gasping for breath!

So Pronto, right now!

And don’t ask me HOW!


"Ding Dong!" He Sprang

to the door in a rush

Outside there stood

The Goddess of Mush!

A radiant vision,

A dream surreal

from the top of her head

To her stiletto heel,

Slowly the Goddess

Sashayed in the room

Her eyes held a promise

Of an exquisite doom.

She had shaken poor poet

To his foundation

As she stretched out her arms

in an ardent invitation.

She kissed him on the lips

amused to see him blush

The poet had dissolved

In a puddle of mush.