The Museum By jo spumoni We passed beside the picture frames And the golden plaques that bore their names The colors gleaming in the light Told of sorrow and a starry night And faces peered with seven noses Near bowls of oranges and roses A noble woman in a chariot Hung beside a crooked man with a cigarette And swirling color and black and white And blindness full of vibrant sight Old soup cans and splattered paint And careful portraits of a saint And a sculpture that I took for a bench And men made of scrap metal and a wrench We left to catch our train But I know I'll be back again Perhaps in vain, to search once more For the key to imagination's golden door _________________________________________________________________ The Adventures of Woo By BonnieDouglas Once upon a time in a woodland near you; There lived a creature by the name of The Woo. The Woo was a cat with bright ginger fur; A chubby old belly and loud growling purr. Regal and noble, he sure ruled the town; He’d take on the mighty and beat them hands down. Fearless and brave Mr Woo, he was King; To his sweetheart, dear Molly, he did give a ring. She loved him so much and the feeling was true; Mr Woo loved her more and without her, was blue. His best friend was Jethro, a cheeky old swine; Through good times and bad, their friendship did shine. Like all the great heroes, The Woo had a foe; The dark and the evil, Cornelius Snow. Cornelius was sly, a fox of great brain; He was eager to strip The Woo of his reign. One terrible evening by the light of the moon; He stole dear old Molly and sent ransom to Woo. The Woo was outraged and scared to the core; Where was his sweetheart? Would he see her no more? Together with Jethro, they rallied the troops; With Stevie the Seagull and the Squirrel named Snoop. They searched all night long for the bad fox’s den; They searched till the sun showed its face once again. “This is mad, this is crazy” The Woo shouted out; “He must be here somewhere, that’s beyond any doubt” Jethro sighed and stopped searching - his feet were so weary; A voice from above called “We have a theory” Looking up at the tree, they all saw the gliders; Lo and behold – three ugly black spiders. Boris, Morris and Doris made three; “Are you searching for Snow” they asked with glee. The Woo pushed to the front and raised a large claw; “Do not joke with us, spiders, or you’ll jester no more”. Exchanging some glances, the spiders grew smug; They wanted to punish this fat ginger mug. “We think he went that way, or maybe turned right” “Your search will go on, long through the night!” Their laughter and giggles angered The Woo; He jumped off the ground - to the air he flew. The spiders all screamed and attempted to run; The Woo was too quick and he caught each little one. “Tell us where Snow lives and where he’s gone to; Or Stevie will fly you to the land Timbuktu ”. They gulped and they sweated but then they complied; “The den on the hill is where he resides”. Approaching the den, Molly’s voice it was heard; The Woo knew it was time to send in the bird. As Stevie flew high above the dark hill; He would signal a time to unleash The Woo’s skill. He flapped and he squawked and Woo knew it was now; With Jethro and Snoop through the door they did plough. As the door flung open, Molly’s tears turned to pride; “My sweetheart you saved me – I love you” she cried. The door slammed shut and Cornelius stood tall; “Not so fast you vermin, I fancy a brawl” They wrestled and tussled and fur balls were flung; Snoop jumped on Snow’s back with his claws he clung. Jethro bent his toes back and stamped on his feet; He did it with such flare that he worked up a beat. Snow growled out of anger but could not tap out; Stevie flew down the chimney and clocked him right on the snout. As Snow reached for his nose and covered his face; Woo grabbed his tail and swung him round the place. He fell to the ground and let out a moan; “You will not beat me - I will get your throne!” The Woo laughed at his threat as he straightened his tail; “Yo Jethro, come here. Throw this clown into jail”. The sun has since set on poor Molly’s plight; But The Woo is renowned for winning the fight. Many have tried but none will win through; He’s strong and he’s brave – he’s the one they call “Woo”. _________________________________________________________________ The Cycle By Schagoozle As we dance down Dead Man's Row, We see the crimes of long ago. The tales of all these sinful men Are certain to repeat again, For those who follow seem unaware Of hanging ropes and electric chairs. And children will keep disappearing. And villains will go to their hearings. And innocent people will keep dying. And broken families continue crying. And the police will shine their light. And criminals hide in the night. This is the cycle of the damned, Who prey on our decaying land.