Magpie Tales #4 – Handiwork

elephant

Cull a pachyderm

To sculpt an elephant—

Now that’s ironic!

Kat Mortensen©2010 
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Magpie Tales #3 – A Tale of an Imaginary Dog

kilo

The Labours of Hercules


Let me tell you a tale of our Mexican dog,

He is thin as a rail, his eyes bulge like a frog,

But if you expect him to be shy and weak,

Think again, for his namesake harks back to the Greek.

Herculean effort he puts into each day,

Triumphs victorious, not simply, “Sit! Stay!”

He’ll wrestle the cat with the long ginger mane,

Then whiz on a hydrant, or some mister’s cane.

He’s dragged off a rat, that he’s dealt a death-blow,

And poor guinea-pig he once lost in the snow.

He’s dug out the rabbit hutch, scattering hay,

And yipped at the crows ‘til they all flew away.

We thought the Great Dane would for sure take no bull,

But our little Herc, to its ear gave a pull,

Shoved his head in the fish-tank where sea-horses bobbed,

Then stole granny’s girdle with glee and he lobbed

It up in the air for our guests to enjoy,

As we looked on in horror at our little boy!

Had he finished his labours? Oh no, not quite yet;

He stomped on the still-suckling babe-trio set,

Then toppled the apples of gold in the dish;

A bit of reprieve when he’s fixed, is our wish,

But as if to confirm that he cannot be curbed

He challenges Rottweiler’s, three, unperturbed.

The only time Herc isn’t causing us *bleep*,

Is when he winds down and is finally asleep.

I suppose if we gave our Chihuahua a name,

like Tiny or Midget he’d be much more tame,

So all his adventures on us you can lay—

Living up to his namesake’s the price that we pay.

We’re thinking of chaining him up to a pound, (kilo)

But knowing our pup, he’ll just lug it around!

Kat Mortensen©2010 Page copy protected against web site content infringement by Copyscape

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Magpie Tales: The Pewter Angle

 

pewter

The Hollow-ware Men

 

The Hollow-ware Men were employed

in Worshipful Company

Oh yes! They moulded slowly

in a melting pot, where tin would not

crack and antimony made malleable

the metal under the hammer’s beat.

Rippled men in roaring heat

stretched and shaped liquid ore.

Their aprons black—

sweat on their foreheads,

red-faced men delivered  their rotund,

fire-wrought progeny.

 

The Hollow-ware Men—not alloyed

with the Triflers and the Sad.

Oh no!  For they cast  in bismuth

and copper, their vessels

to be filled with cream, churned

by country, rose-lipped youth.

Men of valour in velvet

and ladies in satin and silk

clouded tea with cream and milk

in the jugs of the Hollow-ware Men.

 

Kat Mortensen©2010 
Page copy protected against web site content infringement by Copyscape

Visit Willow’s Magpie Tales blog to read other responses to the prompt of the pewter jug.