Showing posts with label Mc Seanagall. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mc Seanagall. Show all posts

Sunday, September 06, 2009

Natural Arts: Priscilla Potato


In front of the stone, where once strawless Berry sat,
pondering about his mission,
smilingly stands Priscilla Potato* - without hat,
but obviously having a lovely vision.

To cut it this time slightly shorter,
it's not about a pint of porter.
No. Obviously following her vision
Priscilla changes the position.


Like a fakir on his bed of nails
she meditates,
and although it may sound corny
comes to the conclusion
that often love is rather thorny
and can end in deep confusion.

Rather then an end like Finn!
And thus she spake:
Don't say Nay.
Eat me, for love's sake.
Which I did. And what delish.
By the way:
With Priscilla I had fish.
And afterwards a drop of Gin.

humbly dedicated to the Topaz of Poetry
by Mc Seanagall


* For some moments I felt tempted to underline the beauty of Priscilla's smiling lips with a touch of fuchsia-red, but then the art would not have been natural, anymore, hm?

Sunday, March 29, 2009

The Ode is not yet composed

He's still 20 years younger than John Major, I am still 28 years younger than Maggie Thatcher, only the proportional relation between our ages has changed a bit.

Happy birthday, Jams!

Wishing the best of Omnium which is - as everbody knows - everything!

As Tetrapilotomos hasn't finished his novel In-climbing-two-cats, yet, and McSeanagall is still composing his Ode to the Poor Mouth, and as no Third Policeman was available on you tube, here's to you, with kind regards from Flann himself.







And now, dear readers, head over to Mr. Jams O'Donnell Esq., as herewith I declare the bazaar for congratulations opened.