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Deus volt; Deus mittit me.

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Day Thirteen, XIII, dreizehn--Couplet--Lament of the Barrel O' Monkeys

Since I don't write for blogs on Sundays, I've done this one in advance and am choosing my own poetry form. This time it'll be couplets.

 Lament of the Barrel O' Monkeys

We're all alike said the monkey named Nate
As he hopped up onto the rim
I look like Jack and he looks like Bill
And Jill looks a whole lot like Jim.

We don't do a lot in that barrel o' fun
But tangle together and sit
Sometimes the boredom just builds up inside
And I want to just haul off and spit.

The last time we ventured outside the barrel
The children were tiny and fun
But now they've grown up and they don't want to play
With a red plastic barrel of mon(keys).

What's a monkey to do when he looks like the rest
And he wants a good place in the sun?
He can't take vacations or go to the zoo
And he can't paint a picture or run.

Then Monkey Nate had a sit-down to think
About life and the great outdoors
He decided that life really wasn't 'bout fun,
Who has what, or who doesn't, or scores.

What matters the most is whatever you do
With the lot the good Lord has given
And when all is said when you're quick and you're dead
Is did you make the most of your livin'.

Then Monkey Nate hopped up on the rim
And surveyed all the landscape around
His red plastic face bore a satisfied grin
For his worth and his joy he had found.

So whenever you feel that life's letting you down
And you think you will die of the blues
Recall Monkey Nate and his barrel of mates
And like him pay attention to clues.
© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy




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