ANTONOVA'S NIGHTMARE
Last night I had a nightmare that chilled me to the bone.
They say I cried aloud and wept and tossed and screamed and moaned.
I know it didn't happen - didn't toss and turn all night,
Didn't mutter names like Luna, Stencil, Nean, Ohyeah, and Write.
Wouldn't yell - "He said the P word," as Headup zinged out to sea.
Wouldn't mention names like Gizzard, Teledon, and Judygee.
Didn't scream aloud for Bikey - Jazz and Jam I didn't moan,
Didn't mumble Literatzi as my server called me home.
I don't believe a word they say - I know it isn't true,
I'm not afraid of Stag and Supe and Grin and Bec and Zoo.
I think that they are lying - 'cause it didn't hurt a bit
When they banned me from TalkCity when I slipped and said,"Oh, Spit!"
COED NAKED POETRY
They say a poet bares his soul
Each time he writes a word,
But I'll go that one better
With this story I just heard.
One Thursday night at Coral Springs
The stage was slyly set
To lure our poet laureate
Into the New World net.
It seems this Cat named Grinningdog
Set out that night to win
A prize for spouting poetry
Clothed only in his skin.
He, in good faith, arrived prepared
To bare his soul and more
When to his indignation
Only sripppers took the floor.
And when these curvy ones spoke up
He knew from their first pun
That the only thing they had on him
Was a nicely rounded bun.
And so he screwed his courage to
The sticking point that night
And dropped his drawers to crowd-pleased roars
And blew them out of sight.
And so our hero saved the day
And made them eat each word
And as he strutted off the stage
I think he flipped the bird.
FOR OHYEAH1
What could we do without her
I cannot comprehend.
If Ohyeah didn't send us mail,
Our day could not begin.
She strings us all together
Like pearls upon a cord.
She perks us up and makes us laugh,
Without her we'd get bored.
And so I send to Ohyeah
My deepest thanks and then,
I know she will reciprocate,
Again...again...again.
TO BAHWOLF
I once had a wolf for a friend,
Who wanted his shin bone to bend
So he smashed it one day
In the traffic, they say.
Now his howling we all comprehend.
TO JOURNALS ON OPENING NIGHT
There once was a playwright I knew
Whose genius was known by a few.
This Journals, they say,
Will someday play Broadway.br>
So we send our best wishes to you.
break a leg
A SILLY POEM FROM ANT TO RAPP
I'm not Rappaport -
Comes like a gentle rain.
I'm not Rappaport - A louder still refrain.
I'm not Rappaport - Oh, will it never end.
I wonder if you're Rappaport, my friend.
I'm not Rappaport - Hey, there it is again.
I'm not Rappaport - Now marches through my brain.
I'm not Rappaport - I'm going round the bend.
Please tell them that you're Rappaport, my friend.
FOR GRINNINGDOG
I once had a dude for a friend
Whose poetry caused me to grin.
He didn't write mush
But he could make me blush
With a line from his talented pen.
TO BAHWOLF
I once had a wolf for a friend
Who wanted his shin bone to bend.
So he smashed it one day
In the traffic, they say
Now his howling we all comprehend.
ANT'S REPLY TO BAH AND FREUD
To Bah and Freud I give reply
A poet's dauntless rhyme.
To Freud I say - a poet heals
While shrinks screw up the mind.
To Bah I cast a crumb of praise,
And grudgingly I say,
"Your prose I'll give a passing grade,
But learn to rhyme some day."
TO KNIGHTLORE
I thought I'd learned to do it
When I was a tiny tot.
But when I got to 'puters,
I needed Lancelot.
My thanks to you, kind Knightlore -
I've tons of time to waste
Because you taught me many things,
But the best was "Cut" and "Paste."
Click Here to Return to
Antonova's Archives
Click Here to Return to
Antonova's Attic
Copyright 1998 Judy Sadler
