Dark, damp, spooky night
Scared to wonder far out of sight
Bone chilling wind blowing wild
In the distance I see a misty fire cloud.
Gathering my nerve, off I go to investigate
Slowly I walk thru the dark, scared, closing fence gate
Sweating becoming soaking wet
Stopping only to look, glaze, and wiping my brow.
Closer my steps lead me as my heart is pounding
Crawling now inch-by-inch to spy
Suddenly voices I hear beneath the dark skies
Aliens from outer space sent to capture me.
Peeking thru the blue grass with my eyes
Aliens I do not see
Just some good ole southern boys
Making corn whiskey
John T. Banasiewicz Jr.
Copyright 2004
This is a great poem that takes us on a thrilling adventure....made me think of a Huck Finn/Tom Sawyer as adults!
Well done my friend - thanks for the fun!
Peace,
~Rose~
Reg.
Hope you enjoyed the whiskey!;-)
white lightning, eh? STAY 'WAY FROM THAT STUFF! i know--wheew, no wonder they call it lightning...burns aaaaaaaaaaaaaalllllllllllll the way down LOL one try and that was IT LOL
love this wonderful write--and those spirits will haunt you if youins don't steer cleer :)
(((HUGS))) and love, karla. *hic* LOL
Smiles keep the jug...don't give it to Eddie he will get up to mishief again taking a sip!!
Love Tinka
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in tx., karen lynn. :D
Only if they get the chance! These days they are more likely to just drink corn whiskey than make it...but...they have been known to.
Glad to know you are in much better company with them good 'ol Southern Boys than with the aliens Tommy! If your lucky..there'll be a few Southern girls show up! *grin*
Great write!
Lisa
love thisssssssss!