and revealing myself one poem at a time
No prophet, I,
I'm a dresser of trees,
A pruner of blight;
A sniffer of disease.
Hide in upstairs rooms,
Shake the dust
From my shoes,
Send me forth with the word:
I'm the Bogeyman Blues.
thoroughly enjoy, had a pace to it as well, anticipation perhaps :)
Not anticipation, I hope, Aidz! Thanks for stopping by here.
Yes, one is there but one is not going to surprise anybody. The bogeyman is expected to take it without hurting. That's how I see it! Nicely Karen!Hank
I think I have the Bogeyman Blues in sympathy!
Maybe we can shake the dust together!
Oh Karen, this desperately needs a tune...
I love to swing the rhythm, Aprille.
I specially like dresser of trees ~ Love the terse and tight lines ~
A song! About the meanie in that childhood poem that the bogeyman will get me if I don't watch out!?? Please, don't trim my tree . . .
Prune that blight? :-)
Love "I'm a dresser of trees".......yes, this would make a fine song.
Mysterious... I love the rhythm of it! And recollections of childhood bogeyman blues.
Thank you, Barbara.
Agree with comments above, there is a definite rhythm here!:)
I love it!I do think it could be a great song :D
That's how I hear it, Ella.Thanks.
This is wonderful. I love the idea of the "Bogeyman Blues."
Send forth the Bogeyman Man to sing his Blues. How fun.
Let the ole guy dance, Margaret!