Stone Soup Croutons is a weekly poem I write using lines and impressions picked up from poems overheard from Stone Soup's open mic readers and features. I figure out a title (and sometimes the rest of the poem) later. You can read the other ones I've done since 2015 here. To paraphrase Lorne Michaels, this poem doesn't go up because it's ready, it goes up because it's Friday morning.
The last open mic of May was last night. A nice showing, and Carol Weston and her husband John Galloway made it in. An eclectic mix of voices made for an eclectic poem, or so I thought. I seem to have picked a them and stuck with it. Here it is. Thanks for reading.
As They Do
Dude ranch leaders
gather on benches,
muse herding missiles
as if choice beefs.
Ask how to make
hell more marketable
with a raw red slogan
for middle America.
Scour back yards
for burial grounds
to give their lord lands
Lazarus leashes on life.
Would even hit
Mount St. Helens
if she weren't so frigid
when not her time to flow.
Let the artists carve their
barstool palettes on urinals.
Tell poor their days
of bread and roses over.
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| All handwriting styles welcome (lucky for me). |
Special thanks to Gawaine Ross, Toni Bee, Carol Weston, Bil Lewis, Nancy Messom, John Galloway, Laurel Lambert and James Van Looy.
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