the Grateful Dead knows…

bell-jar

Hell’s bells are grim,

a reaper’s peal ,

until you add an “O”…

a bellowed hello,

isn’t mellow,

but beats the beast below.

And five is bland,

a numbered hand,

a bluff, a call, a draw…

so reach for sky ,

& slap it high,

instead—and say: hurrah.

Still water’s wet

–is way to get–

the chills with careless feet…

yes, when it crests,

and waves, it’s best,

a rippled, rolling greet.

While day is fine,

and night—divine–

a truth that’s understood…

you can bet,

it’s better yet,

combining time with: good.

Charron's Chatter is your source for humorous writing

About Charron's Chatter

I bring to you an arrow, whole, Use it, or break it, But if you choose to take it --Know-- With it also, I will go. © Karen Robiscoe @1992

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