“What’s happening on stage this week, Kid?”
“Poetry. Open mic.”
“Shut the front door!”
“Yep, but it ain’t quite a slam. Fer one it ain’t competitive, an’ fer two—”
“No, Kid, shut the front door, or the back door. Somethin’s gotten inta the saloon, cain’t quite figger whut it is runnin’ about the place. Do ya see ‘em? Jeez, Kid, looks like little … cowboys… in chaps…”
“Pal, have you been samplin’ the wares? Yer eyes is playin’ tricks on ya, is all. Focus, we gotta git tready fer this poetry open mic. Like I was sayin’, with our set up it’s kinda hard ta see an’ hear the spoken word so— ”
“Spoke an’ words? Like spokes of a wheel?”
“Uh, sure Pal, an’ this here saloon’s the hub. So it’s spoken word at the saloon this week. ‘Cept folks gotta write it fer us. So a slim slam, poems of 99, 59, or 9 words, short an’ sweet. Or savory. Or raw. Folks kin jist leave their slim slams as a comment.”
“Kid, shouldn’t ya a done this in April, when it was Poetry Month an’ folks was doin’ thet NaPoWriMo thang? We’re inta the third week a May now.”
“Hey, now, May be, Pal, but April was kinda rough, fact I ain’t so sure there was an April, sure seemed like one long March. Anyway’s this is jist a fun thing ta do any time an’ it’s also ta hep celebrate the tremendous growth a the off shoot poet tree that’s out back a the saloon. Yep, through the miracle a fiction, an’ plen’y a fertilizer, thet little whip grew in a flash an’ is darn near as big as the original back at the ranch!”
“Well, thet’s real good, Kid, folks’ll find inspiration at thet tree. Heck, even I writ some buckaroo-ku at the ‘riginal poet tree. But do you ‘member our first time poemin’? It was fer the 2017 Rodeo, when the Ranch’s Poet Lariat, Jules, gave thet gem of a contest, Septolet In Motion.”
“Oh, yeah, that was a fun form. Fourteen words in seven lines with a break somewheres. Then it was you Pal, come up with the first buckaroo-ku.”
“Yep an’ soon after’s when the ‘riginal poet tree showed up in front a the bunkhouse. An’ now we got this saloon an’ a second tree out back. I jist hope you don’t go gittin’ stuck an’ fallin’ outta this tree like ya done afore.”
“Pal! I seen ‘em, yer teeny tiny cowboys. Quick little fellas, ain’t they? An’ lissen. Is that piano music?”
“Sounds like, Kid.”
“Hello? Kid? Hello?”
“Come right in, the Saloon door’s always open. What kin we do ya for?”
“I think I’m looking for A. Kidd…”
“Well, sure ‘nough, I’m Kid, an’ this here’s Pal. My gosh you’re a jumpy one. Ya got fleas or somethin’?”
“Uh, no. Not fleas. Something else. Faeries.”
“What’s yer name, stranger?”
“They call me Twitch. Yow! What?”
“I’ll bet they do. So what brings ya here ta the Saddle Up, Twitch?”
“Someone by the name of S.H. Ortiz hired me to make a sign. I lost the address where I was supposed to deliver it but recall that the name A. Kidd was mentioned. I gaggled the name and was directed here.”
“D’ya mean ta say googled?”
“Ugh, my words and letters have been all mixed up because of the chapfaeries. Anyway, Kid, here’s your sign.”
“Not sure it’s meant for me Twitch, but let’s have a look. Oh, that is beautiful! But ‘otter pee’? Ya sure yer sign’s meant ta say ‘otter pee’?”
“Ya oughta if ya gotta, Twitch. Restroom’s down thet way.”
“No! Those darn chap fairies moved my letters around. And now I can’t remember what exactly the sign was supposed to say.”
“Relax, Twitch, we’ll hep ya out, won’t we Kid?”
“Sure thing. Pal, ya reckon what Shorty thought was errorists all this time was really chapfaeries?”
“Could be. Twitch, what kin ya tell us ‘bout these here chapfaeries?”
“You know, dang western faeries who wear chaps and just want to be at the center of everything. I could not keep them off the sign. I didn’t know they were attached to the piano wood I harvested from the woods. Every time I turned around, they were dancing on the sign and two of them stuck.”
“Whoa, stop. Back up there Twitch. What is piano wood?”
“The chapfaeries led me to a spot far out in the woods. And there on top of a hill was an upright piano. So I salvaged it. Used some of the wood from it for your sign.”
“Is thet why we’ve been hearin’ piano music?”
“Yes, Pal, when the faeries are around, the piano wood makes music.”
“Huh. Well let’s git back ta figgerin’ thet sign out. If yer sure it ain’t s’posed ta say otter pee, then what? Rope! Thet makes sense… extra letters… rope teet, naw. Trope. Trope Tee? Naw.”
“Twitch, look it that. One a them fairies is tyin’ yer boot lace fer ya.”
“Shhh… ‘Nuther un is workin’ at the letters on the sign… p-o-e-t-t-r-e-e… Poet Tree! Kid, it’s a sign fer the poet tree!”
“Which poet tree? The one back at the ranch by the bunkhouse? Or the one out back a this here saloon? Or is it fer the poet tree at World Headquarters? Dang, I sure wish that Charli Mills kept better track a things.”
“Charli Mills? World Headquarters? In Hancock, Michigan?”
“Yep, that’s right Twitch.”
“Oof. I got turned around. This sign is supposed to be at Headquarters— it’s for the Roberts Street Writery!”
“Well, why don’tcha rest up here at the saloon afore heading back ta the real world, Twitch, least long ‘nough ta round up them feisty little chapfaeries.”
“Yeah, Twitch, hang out a while. Mebbe that sign will inspire folks ta leave some poetry in the comments fer folks ta injoy.”
“Do you have cherry mead behind that bar?”
“Yep. The Saddle Up has anything and everything imaginable. Though I never imagined we’d have chapfaeries.”
“Ok, folks, it’s a poetry slim. It’s open mic all week long at the Saloon. Slip yer poems inta the comments. Try an’ git ‘em ta be jist 9, 59, or 99 words.”
A Poem, by A. Kidd
No particular reason
Doesn’t have ta rhyme
Doesn’t have ta be Ranch related
Or ’bout characters at a saloon
Could be, as poems often are
About the sun or other stars
Or the constant moon
Serious or funny, entirely up to you
Limerick or couplets or some buckaroo-ku
In whatever form, leave some nifty lines
Going ta the back forty
Jist ta show it kin be done
Inspired by them chapfaeries
So mischievous and fun.
And what a talented artist, that Toj who made the sign
Perfect for Charli’s Writery
An’ guess what? That’s ninty-nine!
The poet tree sign was made by Tammy Toj Gajewski at Red Rabbit Studio, her base in Rabbit Bay, MI. Toj is a ‘teacher of joy’ and happily retired. She earned her BFA at UW- River Falls and her MPA from Northern Michigan University. You can find her walking her dogs in Rabbit Bay and playing with her Chaphaeries in her studio.
If asked, Pal & Kid will deny that they spill from the pen of D. Avery. They claim to be free ranging characters who live and work at Carrot Ranch and now serve up something fresh every Monday at the Saddle Up Saloon. If you or your characters are interested in saddling up for a wild ride as a saloon guest, contact D. Avery at firstname.lastname@example.org .
Next week- blog blustering!
Opening, D. Avery (59)
You’re the door
that opened me
the room revealed
by the open door
the room revealed in me
You’re the lamp that shines
the beam of light
that were locked within this room
You’re the room within the room
So am I
I am so many rooms
because my door is open.
Because you said, Step in.
The two-step of door-opening. Love the back and forth of this poem.
Reblogged this on ShiftnShake and commented:
It’s Open Mike Night all week at the Saddle Up Saloon. Come by to share a poem.
Cancer, a 9-ish word poem
Brought outsides in.
9-ish counts! Well done to present so many sides to this situation in so few words. (Did I hear a mic drop?)
Tammy’s sign — at the Writery, it’ll be just fine. That’s 9.
The sign really is fine. The chapfaeries are especially cute.
Aren’t they? Between Charli’s plantings and here own signed poet tree, complete with chap faeries, that Roberts Street Writery is sure coming along. Thanks for your rhyme in nine, friend of mine.
Can’t wait to see it all, if only in photos. A video would be nice. Carrot Ranchers Zooming ‘neath the poet tree.
I think we need to host a Zoom reading, Kid. Don’t let your writer talk you out of it!
Fine rhyme! I would never have thought of fairies in chaps and now I can’t stop thinking of them. 🙂
I know. It’s definitely creative thinking. 🙂
Gotter done earlier than later….(thanks for the linky thing and as you mentioned Septolet… I sorta included that form within…)
(59 words; Septolet, haiku, haibun hybrid)
sigh a four
part of sight
present kindness sought
a modern day Pandora
to release good hope
to gently open
presents itself… now
we sigh for insight
struggling for patience – we seek
to keep our air fresh
to dispel our grey shadowed sighs
Whoa. Wow. The Poet Lariat is in fine form with this hybrid form she done roped. This is a gem, Jules. Thank you for taking the mic.
Yep I liked the Poet Tree sign too. 😀
Been a bit busy in the garden so I posted this at my place too
Lusty Month of AUGUST
We know the words
Lusty month of May
I beg to differ
Tis August that is lusty
Proven by many birthdays in May
My bonus son and his two boys
Charli’s girl and Charli too
On Thursday this
Tis our leader’s birthday
I wish her happiness
And suggest a big loud party
When once again we gather
By the way, I love the poet tree sign. It’s a fine addition to the Roberts Street Writery and fancy growing grounds.
You did some math there! Thank you for the poetic reminder, birthdays never stick with me, yet I sure wish Charli the best of birthdays possible. Yeah, let’s hoot and holler on Thursday!
Ha! I hadn’t thought about August in that way. Thanks, Sue!
[…] Posted in comments at the Saddle Up Saloon: Open Mike… […]
You are welcome
We have long winters. About the time you think it’s spring, summer’s over and fall is ushered out in a snow storm.
Spring follows Winter
Seasons in flux
Was that fall?
“We have long winters”… at first I thought you were commenting on Susan’s math.
Yeah, your lovely nine words (thank you!) remind me of the old joke around here: “What week is summer this year?”
When I lived in Indiana it seemed like there were only two seasons; summer and winter. Spring and autumn were barely there.
Great installment for the newly installed sign. Here’s my 9-word slim:
Fly me to the canopy
Where chapfairies rhapsody
Slam! That’s a fine and dandy slim. You must be smiling, for
Roberts Street Writery
in rhapsodical finery
words dance whimsically
Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah,
Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah!
Full disclosure – these aren’t my original 9 words.
I love EVERYTHING on this page: the ranch hands, the gorgeous Poet Tree sign, D Avery’s clever poem modelling 9, 59, 99 words and all the contributions in the comments. Keep up the bonkosity!
Those 9 words were originally, by design, meant to be lifted. So, thank you for lifting them and sharing them here. (I’m blushing at the all caps compliment; as well as one of the definitions of bonk. Wonder if chap faeries got at your word machine)
But yep, a super cool sign, and wonderful contributions here in the comments. Thank you for yours.
Bonkosity! I think that might be a new arrangement of the original words, Anne. 😉
“Hey, now, May be, Pal, but April was kinda rough, fact I ain’t so sure there was an April, sure seemed like one long March.”
This is witty writing. Wallie and I are gobsmacked!
Yeah, those two can be witty sometimes. I love that word, ‘gobsmacked’. Thank you for it!
Not sure what kinda form we got here, but it’s 59 words. Here’s mud in yer eye…Cheers, or Skol, as we say in my neck o’ the woods! 😉
Slim’s Search for Inspiration
Sunlight flashed, a line ‘cross the floor
Rusty squeak of batwing doors
A buckaroo walks into a bar
Thumping boot heels, bright spurs
Barkeep looks up unsure
Feels her Peacemaker snug on her hip
Buckaroo rolls, hoists her butt on the stool
Lays her arms on the counter
Hopes she ain’t been a fool
“Got a Poet Tree here?”
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2020)
Added a link from my blog to this page, tryin’ to rustle up a few lost dogies (https://valleyofthetrolls.blog/2020/05/19/slims-search-for-inspiration/ ) :
“There’s fun to be had at the Ranch as we read and write our way through quarantine. Come and join us (Hyperlink below)!”
You’re in fine form!I can see and hear every move in this poem. Yep, the Poet Tree is just out back, but set a spell, have a sarsaparilla.
…bat wing doors… hadn’t heard em descripted thata way before.
I like it!
I really liked Adam West! Guess I’m showing my age. 😉
I’ve actually got a 45 of that there theme song!
(I had a crush on Robin…I thought Batman was too stodgy)
I think I just liked all the gadgets …I was a tomboy…
[…] Carrot Ranch Poetry Prompt: To quote D. Avery “…this here saloon’s the hub. So it’s spoken word at the saloon this week. ‘Cept folks gotta write it fer us. So a slim slam, poems of 99, 59, or 9 words, short an’ sweet. Or savory. Or raw. Folks kin jist leave their slim slams as a comment.” […]
Thank you Liz, for sharing the fun. As far as the quote, I believe that was Kid. (It is kind of confusing)
The poet tree pun was beautiful
Thanks! It’s still open mic…. leave a poem, if you like.
One day I will! But for now, still so busy!
No worries. This is no pressure zone.
[…] going to recycle a poem that I shared at not a pub, but a saloon. The following first aired at the Saddle Up Saloon’s recent open […]
[…] chapfaeries! That kin only mean one thing! Toj must be here somewhere. Cain’t wait ta see more a her work […]
[…] Trimming up the POET TREE for this week – courtesy of Carrot Ranch Literary Community: Read about it HERE […]
[…] them’s our chapfaeries. We got kinda a infestation ya might say. They mostly hang out out back by the […]