…it feels good to be out in the rough
in the desert, you can remember some stuff,
’cause there ain’t no one for to give you no guff… lol
OK we’ll leave the poetry to Tom. Don’t forget to check in the comments for the next part of the poetic story – although there may be a lull over the long weekend so if there isn’t anything yet, check again next week! It will be worth the wait!
You may see something similar in this Karen William’s painting – I noticed after I finished the above. Nice shadow!
UPDATE – here we have Tom’s latest – hot off his Blackberry!
The Bleen are a folk who look like pink eggs
With stick-skinny arms and short stubby legs.
They live ‘neath the dunes of the Great Sandy Sea
Where the Red Ribbon Road runs past invisible trees
That the Bleen use to build all manner of goods
They trade far and wide in that most special wood
That no one can see, nor yet touch, neither taste…
But it grows in that dry dusty pitiless waste!
Some say the Bleen have just made it up
No water will stay in invisible cups!
But I say I’ve seen it with these eyes right here:
Invisible wood is a plant without peer!
“Good heavens,” said Cindy, “To think that you’ve seen
Such wonderful wonders as pink-eggish Bleen!”
“They aren’t a patch on where I once met
A certain relation who now is beset!”
image (cc) 2010 Hilary Farmer
poem (c) 2010 Tom Radcliffe