Our World A
The burrow carries his heavy
up the hill he goes.
A blue whale plows the ocean waters
never sleeping until the harbor.
White sails continue to divulge their course.
Reptiles trace a winding path through hot sands.
A horse in Aberdeen still munches oats.
A mammal is an animal not just for the farm.
Our world a collage afloat,
a seascape without a divining rod,
a continuous river entirely nomadic
in a narcotic furrow of frolic temperament.
There is no Uriah in Pennsylvania
and Eva isn’t from Geneva.
A burro never leads the pack.
New Yorkers love the sack.
Play your golf and beat the Dickens out of China
until the hazards of the desert sicken you.
The Babe knew his tavern fare
as a slugger was second to none.
“Hello Dolly” is alive in society.
Cheers for Fred Astair in the movies.
Nomads are now homeless on this side of reverence
Romping the wayside of hyped-up earthliness.
A cozy room can be the aloe remedy
erasing the psychic pressure of ruminants.
*This poem is a result of
taking as many of the cue and answer words from
The crossword puzzle which appeared in the Daily News on
April, 28, 2008,
a newspaper published in Bowling Green, KY.
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