Creative Challenge: Journey

Frontier Justice

He rode tall in the saddle, he was long and lean

His one vice was a love of travel and adventure

An amiable sort of fellow, not the least bit mean

For all life’s maladies he thought travel the cure

When in the saddle he may end up east or west

Often to be adventurous he traveled north or south

Destination wasn't important, he loved the travel the best

He was a happy go lucky guy, never down in the mouth.

His travel took him to a place previously unexplored

A place where everything he believed was tested

His protestations of innocence went entirely ignored

Before he knew what happened, he had been arrested.

Twelve of his peers were brought into court

Evidence was presented for everyone to see

Upon deliberation it was their duty to report

No verdict was reached, it was a hung journey.

©Tim D. Culey -2012-

Traveling Man

Frontier Justice

 

 

He rode tall in the saddle, he was long and lean

His one vice was a love of travel and adventure

An amiable sort of fellow, not the least bit mean

For all life’s maladies he thought travel the cure

 

 

When in the saddle he may end up east or west

Often to be adventurous he traveled north or south

Destination wasn't important, he loved the travel the best

He was a happy go lucky guy, never down in the mouth.

 

 

His travel took him to a place previously unexplored

A place where everything he believed was tested

His protestations of innocence went entirely ignored

Before he knew what happened, he had been arrested.

 

 

Twelve of his peers were brought into court

Evidence was presented for everyone to see

Upon deliberation it was their duty to report

No verdict was reached, it was a hung journey.

 

 

 

 

©Tim D. Culey -2012-

My Kingdom for a Breeze

July was nearly unlivable with weather oh so hot

Dogs out at midnight seeking shade to catch a breath

My neighbor’s field of corn took a notion to pop

Three cows thought it a blizzard and froze to death.

I can’t recall a summer that was so hot and dry

The trees have adapted by learning how to jog

It may seem impossible, but here's the reason why

They had to find someway to keep up with the dogs.

Our thoughts turned to fall and we all began to plan

But there came a chill in the air that made us shudder

We have no one to thank for it except possibly Stefan

For giving everyone on Multiply his very cold shoulder.

---

© Tim D. Culey -2012-

No sense in getting hot under the collar, chill out at Creative Challenge

This is also cross posted at http://www.blogster.com/dad-o-shane/my-kingdom-for-a-breeze

Don't Give Up

Up comes a wave from Indonesia and we all fall down

A little breeze from the Philippines and we all fall down

It takes a man bigger than somebody named Stefan

To censor me, and to put me out in the trash can

I’m sure as hell not down, no where near being out

So long as there is a blog site someplace I will shout

You may not want to read anything I have to say

But I’m not down. I’ll be around to fight another day.

© Tim D. Culey 16 Aug 2012

Rindercella: A Tairy Fale
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Once uton a pime in a corn funtry there lived a geautiful birl and
her name was Rindercella. Now Rindercella lived with her two sad
blisters and her mugly other. Also in this corn funtry there lived a

prancesome hince who invited all the geautiful birls from riles amound

to a bancy fall. But Rindercella gouldn't co. She had to make dancy

fesses for her two sad blisters and her mugly other.

While they all went off to the bancy fall, Rindercella just cat down
and shried. She was just citting there a shrying when there appeared
before her - her jerry mud father! "Rindercella," she asked, "Shry
do you why?" Rindercella mold her jerry mud father of her werrible
tork.

Just then her jerry mud father made Rindercella a geautiful bown and
took two mield fice and a tumpkin and purned them into two stighty
malions and cig boach!

Off to the bancy fall went Rindercella, with the warning that she
must go home before the mid clock struck night.

As Rindercella entered the bancy fall the pransome hince saw her
through a widden hindow and thought she gas worgeous! They danced
and danced and soon they lell in fove. Suddenly, the mid clock struck
night and fearing her cig boach would purn into a tumpkin,
Rindercella staced down the rairs. But as she beached the rottom,
she slopped her dripper.

Well the nery vext day the pransome hince searched the corn funtry
for the geautiful birl who had slopped her dripper. He tried it on
Rindercella's mugly other, but if fidn't dit. He tried it on her sad
blisters... Then, the dripper fit only Rindercella at last.

Now the storal of the mory: If you ever go to a bancy fall to meet a
pransome hince with the hopes of lalling in fove, don't forget to
slop your dripper!