For Linda Ori - No Special Occasion
While sitting on a hollow log
I noticed a small, handsome frog,
he came to me, quite unafraid
and said 'we need to find some shade.'
I was as you'd imagine shocked,
he sat there seemingly half-cocked
and smiled with bulging eyes his smile.
And so we sat there for a while.
'The sun will move toward the West',
he croaked while scratching his green chest.
It did and shade soon changed the hue
from green toward an ocean blue.
'I say, you are the Limerick Earl,
and do you know the Ori girl?
She's written some fantastic stuff
but hasn't been praised quite enough.'
'I am aware', I lectured him
'that even frogs, out on a limb
will be impressed by stellar writing,
all frogs find poetry exciting.'
'So, sitting here on your left knee
I demonstrate a liberty
that few will ever understand',
he said and climbed into my hand.
'I am, as you may have surmised
more than just cleverly disguised,
I am the Prince of all things written,
and with her poems I am smitten.'
The sun went down, 'I now must leave
it is my destiny to weave
for minds that have both heart and soul
a very special cubbyhole,
which serves, of course to store forever
those poems that I do find clever
and in a pinch there would be room
to save the poet from her doom.'
I must admit, the talk was strange
and a minUte dividing range
had placed itself smug in between
the two of us. Oh what a scene!
I said, to add a new dimension,
'should we not honourably mention
the many others who write well? '
He answered, 'oops, there goes my bell.'
And hopped, as only frogs can hop
down to his loghouse from the top.
I stooped to have a sticky beak
and saw a small, semi-antique
well furnished study full of books,
stuffed into crannies and in nooks.
He sat in a huge Lazyboy,
marked Property Hotel Savoy
and held a book with gentle fingers.
You, have you seen how love just lingers
on faces of the connoisseur?
That love is surely to endure.
And there was Linda's work in print.
(Well, LULU doesn't charge a mint) .
And he was drinking ice cold tea.
He never knew if you ask me.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Added by Poetry Lover
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