Years ago, it was in the early spring,
When the snow melts fast and the robins sing
And roads turn to rivers of viscous goo
Just about impossible to get through;
Setting out on horseback from my hill farm,
I spied my friend's hat, and to my alarm
It moved along under its own power.
Lifting it, I saw a face most sour.
'John', I exclaimed, recovering from fright,
'Please tell me my friend, are you all right?'
On the edge of the road I safely stood
Primed to render assistance if I could.
'No my good man', he said with a sigh.
'The mud is far too deep for you to try.
I am much safer than I appear to be,
For I still have my horse underneath me.'
Author notes
This is based on the type of story that we often tell about mud season up my way. I heard a similar story told by Francis Colburn on and old album my father had when I was a boy.
Prompt 8. Mud
Picture credit: http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2233/2127099365_0fc68cd366.jpg?v=0
In a list
A contest entry
- Prompts; by Hell In Harmony.
2200 points, ended November 18, 2008, 30 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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Wonderful
Very creative and so well written. A terrific write for the prompt. Best of luck in the contest.
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Thanks. I am glad you enjoyed it.
Mike
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Smiling with sincere appreciation for a really smart and funny poem!
Fine rhyming and rhythm... glad I came by to say hello. 
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Thank you very much. I appreciate you reading and commenting. I am glad you enjoyed the humor.
Mike
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And roads turn to rivers of viscous goo
Just about impossible to get through;
vivid imagery.
'No my good man', he said with a sigh.
'The mud is far too deep for you to try.
I am much safer than I appear to be,
For I still have my horse underneath me.'
clever ending.
I like.
thanks and goodluck
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Thank you very much. I appreciate you reading and commenting.
Mike
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