Neetee's Pantry Ladle
Toiling in my kitchen of Kingdom of Heavy Hot Loaves,
Stories of words, can I do. Will you decide to follow ?
Fishermen of hearts, smiths of words and moustacheod Chefs of Stew come far and wide
Heavily spiced prose tasting by way of aromatic Gwendolyn & Swollow
Poured forth into my forge of eclectic literary stoves
Neetee's ladle is finally stirred
no expense is spared, Cutlery and bowls arranged
Exotic stories freshly prepared, far from a common Herd
Expectation's eyelids roll like a gliding bird
A Poem by the cloned corpse of Marcus Tal
inspired by Queen Neetee's Blogtopia 2006
posted by the cloned corpse of marcus tal @ 7:14 AM
3 Comments:
I am flattered beyond the proper words! However, I'll give it a go. "Thank you!
You know, that dehydration didn't hurt you much at all. Did you write this before or after betraying your friends?
Oh well. As with a corpse, time is no issue at all. Good work and thank you again!
Queen Neetee,
I am pleased you savoured and appreciated this brief trifle of mine. I find it, like all my poetry, is best appreciated with a fine glass of brandy and a smooth cuban cigar.
Though, I must provide a corrective. The dehydrated corpse of Marcus Tal is another earlier stage of my being. He is scallywag and japester who conscious of his fine and wholesome looks and will betray his colleagues, if they mock him and his love of Romulan Cheese.
At the present he does not appear have the flair for poetry which the cloning process has encoded into my dead DNA helix. Who knows though, that soon might cahnge
Thank you for setting me straight on that. Somehow it did feel a tad wrong when I was typing it but I just wasn't sure why. Now I know.
However, still loving the poem.
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