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Pond Poker

Poet / Producer: Moe Phillips
Producer: 
Namakula Nasejje Musoke
Audio / Narrator: Ian Phillips

Can't hear? Press TWICE!

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Backstory

In this poem, the old west is set not in a desert town surrounded by hideouts in gulches and gullies but in a steaming swamp full of chirping insects replacing yipping coyotes. Assume the players are wearing ten -gallon hats- I did. This is a cautionary tale of keeping it fair and square! The music track is called “Spaghetti Western” and Ian did an amazing job as the narrator with his nod to gravelly voiced cowboys spinning yarns around a campfire under a prairie moon. YEEHAH! Is what we say about this one.

POEMS

It was a steamy Saturday night

at the pond side poker game.

Gamblers both wet and dry

had come to stake a claim.

 

Four aces for the grinning leech.

Deuces down for old dragonfly.

The cricket chirped  “Time to fold.”

The bullfrog bellowed “WHY?”

 

Once again, it was a losing hand

he clutched in his webbed fist.

The frog now knew for sure,

there was a cheater in their midst.

 

The leech slurped “See ya next week!”

The dragonfly buzzed away.

The cricket hopped out the door.

The frog croaked “Leech… you stay”

 

He made a leap for the leech,

the sucker fell on his face.

Stuck to his butt for all to see:

A Queen, a King an Ace.

 

The leech commenced his lying

but the frog cried “Don’t pretend!”

Then unstuck all the winnings

from that slimy rear hind end.

 

Since that night at the clubhouse,

the leech is banned from the table.

The owner keeps it fair and square

as best as he is able.

POEMS

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