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Saga of Mischief
Contributed by
Elizabeth_Dandy
on
Monday, 5th January 2009 @ 02:48:05 PM in AEST
Topic:
StoryPoetry
|
He sat by a fine desk and called her in,
Made her relax and sit upon a chair,
To bare her soul, but how would she begin?
To tell her naughty tale to counsellor.
Lo!- if a desk is used for counselling
Some wayward souls in mischief and distress,
Then chimes all over and the big bells ring
They plead and pray for councellor's success.
Conversely, if such disk dismantled, in demise,
Together with its content of decrees,
T'is damage great, that none can verbalize
And passion's ardor undergoes a freeze.
The counsellor by destiny and fate,
All ears with zeal and assiduitally
Did focus on her tale (her name was Kate)
And gave this erring soul his energy.
Ah! care of souls she got it finally
And keep it to her very end of days,
She clung to it with great alacrity
And gratefully would give the Lord due praise.
So beneficial was the interveiw;-
Unhampered so by fettering protocol
That sparklets were enkindled, sparklets flew
Across the room and danced the rigmarole.
The weels of fate screeched, counsel had to leave,
And left his sad and hapless ward behind,
Of care of soul, was robbed this child of Eve,
So prematurely and so unresigned.
.
The counselling desk was in a corner shoved,
Void of its precious papers and decrees,
To be transported to the attic loft,
Exposed to gales or the spasmodic breeze.
What change!- Oh bitter woe- now Counsel stood,-
Not sat - as formerly - to use his quill-
Detached now was the counsellor and would -
With measured gait approach the window sill.
Out of the window counsel looked - Oh pain!
His gaze transfixed to witness and arrest
Arriving pals and cars parked in a lane,
Which held his focus now and interest.
She tried to show him on a map a spot,
Which on this ghastly desk she slowly spread,
But counsel looked out to the Parking Lot,
Disinterested in the "A" train's net,
In trains or subways coach or borough bus,
Anticipating change and Exodus.
Oh grief!
The window now attracted counsellor,
(Not Kate), and aught, - she knew not what it was,
But had a hunch it was the janitor,
Absorbed in filling up some tanks with gas.
Now counsel watched with focused interest
All these so fascinating goings on,
So gladdened these proceedings to attest,
Without him even asking Kate's pardon.
Oh hurt !
Soon counsel found elsewhere due plenitude,
While for his ward was naught left but to pray,
Demise,-Demise - two-fold and absolute,-
Console poor Kathe - - who has no more to say.
Copyright ©
Elizabeth_Dandy
... [
2009-01-05 14:48:05]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Saga of Mischief
(User Rating: 1 )
by lovingcritters on
Monday, 14th June 2010 @ 03:38:58 PM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
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*GIGGLES* LOL, and just plenty clever and insane! Poor Kathe, just left sitting there in her pity. I just loved your images, and the way you told this humourous little ditty!
Thank you dear Eliz for sharing that with us!
Warm love,
consue
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