Deep Fried Road Kill (a dizain)
Audrey, the lank-haired waitress, scans the bar,
sees Charlie nursing his long empty glass
“Hey you”, she yells, “get your ass outta here”
“Just my ass?” Charlie asks, to loud applause ;
deep fried road kill, okra, potato mash
warm under a heat lamp, he’s feeling ill;
he nods at his miner friends- Pit Fall Phil,
Old Arsenic, Rock Face, Busted Lung Lou –
in the holy glow of the pool table
they’ve still got that subterranean hue.
Yes, just when you thought it was safe to open your WordPress Reader…..the sequel to High Plains Sushi!
The form used is a dizain, 10 lines , 10 syllables per line, rhyme scheme..ababbccdcd…For a more detailed discussion of the form, see Frank Hubeny’s excellent post over at dVerse.
High Plains Sushi
this bar is insured by Smith and Wesson
according to the sign upon the wall
Charlie studies his empty beer glass and
time, his old enemy, slows to a crawl,
there’s a Tuesday night two for one special
out at Wanda’s Ranch, but that’s not what he
needs, or wants – he craves that high plains sushi,
tuna, wasabi, sake in a cup
he sits five thousand feet above the sea
and he just can’t….he just can’t get enough.
This poem was culled from another song lyric/ poem, the original can be found here.
The form used is a dizain, 10 lines , 10 syllables per line, rhyme scheme..ababbccdcd…and I don’t mind saying…I think I strained something trying to conform to it.
For a more detailed discussion of the form, see Rosemary Nissen-Wade’s excellent post over at dVerse.