[stylist] Poem - "Waitress" - Final Draft
Rowena Portch
Rowena at rowenaportch.com
Fri Jun 26 13:03:15 UTC 2015
Bill, you definitely gave me a bit of a chuckle this morning. Spanking may be an over correction, but hey, to each his own. (smiley)
R o w e n a P o r t c h
Author of the Spirian Saga
RowenaPortch.com <http://rowenaportch.com/>
View the Book Trailer for The Spirian Saga, a new paranormal romance <http://youtu.be/XeNmJkXyJv0>
On Jun 26, 2015, at 1:26 AM, William L Houts via stylist <stylist at nfbnet.org> wrote:
Hi,
I should have run spellcheck. The phrase you had trouble with had nothing to do with your misunderstanding, but with the fact that I was using an odd phrase:
"oasising camels". Clearly, I forgot to spellcheck before posting and I am very bad and wrong and should be spanked. But thanks so much for reading the poem anyway, and for your kind comments.
--Bill
On 6/25/2015 7:34 PM, Rowena Portch via stylist wrote:
> This was lovely, Bill. Some of the words threw me a bit. I’ve never heard them before, like oasisingcamels.
>
> R o w e n a P o r t c h
> Author of the Spirian Saga
>
> RowenaPortch.com <http://rowenaportch.com/>
>
> View the Book Trailer for The Spirian Saga, a new paranormal romance <http://youtu.be/XeNmJkXyJv0>
> On Jun 25, 2015, at 12:14 PM, William L Houts via stylist <stylist at nfbnet.org> wrote:
>
>
>
>
> *Waitress *
>
> (in memory of Nadine "Granny" Jackson)
>
> Plates like galaxies braced
>
> on her arm, she brings our eats.
>
> It's craft she's gained from her thousands
>
> on frayed carpet.
>
> Breakfast crowds, dinner guests
>
> all are arrayed
>
> in their booths, a chorus
>
> of murmurs arising like
>
> prayer, her feet singing ows.
>
> We dine, declaim, and coffee
>
> drink like oasisingcamels.
>
> Arriving, unhoped for
>
> fulfillment, she pours and pours,
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> a prophetess fountain.
>
> such gifting strength?I'd never
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> hold:my smile would
>
> fail like dustbowl crops.
>
> Waitress, lady, Grandmother
>
> Deep: take twenty percent
>
> and know I know
>
> what suffering is, and what
>
> it costs. O rest your
>
> broken, faithful feet,
>
> and bathe in hotrelease,
>
> and bone revived
>
> or husband held,
>
> embrace your war-won sleep.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
--
"Oh, Sophie! Whyfore have you eated all de cheeldren?"
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