Saragun Springs

The Merry Merry Month O’ May in Saragun Springs

May in the Springs is inspired by Tom Sawyer getting kids to white “warsh” the fence for him. Thus, being incredibly lazy, I have opened a new feature in the Springs. Every fourth week of the month is open for guest posters who wish to be exposed to at least forty subscribers (we are among the meek who will inherit the Earth, Wind and Net someday).

Friend Dale Williams Barrigar will be appearing on the week of the 26th-30th. For others who wish to fill a week with poetry or various odds and ends, I say go ahead and send those to saragunsprings@gmail.com Now I am not publishing a journal or anything of the such, I am fully occupied by Literally Stories UK. But as stated, I am pretty lazy, and I appear to be attracted to stuff that has the potential for shame,  despair, and disaster.

Still, I feel awkward telling obviously intelligent people the following: I will not post hateful, pornographic, libel suit beckoning, plagiarized stuff; nor touts, ads, or anything straying far past three-thousand words. Brevity is the soul here, and poetry the favored soul.

May is spoken for–but June is free.

Leila

send the nobel directly to dame daisy kloverleaf, c/o saragun springs, the multiverse

Dear readerly readers, with the bonus rubaiyat section published  in March I have faithfully translated One hundred quatrains of what was at one time billigits’ gibberish in twenty-fively installents of four.

To equal Omar’s hundred from ninety six, I shall nowly now republish the bonus because everyone in the world, save two, missed it the first time.

There will be more rubaiyats in the future–but the next one will be the Rubaiyat of Dame Daisy Kloverleaf, coming sometime this fall (unlike the wee-winged ones, I like capital letters and punctuationally punctuation marks).

You’re welcome.

Dame Daisy Kloverleaf (soon a Nobel Laureate)

The bonus repeat:

i

willie told the billies a tale deep in gin

about a donkey legend named uncle finn

finn was a humble jackass of no note

but when times got tough he busted the wind

ii

finn flew deep into the darkness of hell

he went in and kicked satans belly bell

yet his legendary tasks had gone unknown

until this magic donkey had to tell

iii

people said finn could not do such bravery

donkeys are useless save in slavery

but after many kicks to the scoffers heads

the people admitted their knavery

iv

spread the story across this land of sin

of the bravest donkey that’s ever been

and may all the knaves say out of respect

you’re a better ass than i uncle finn

the rubaiyat of the billigits: part twenty-four (translated by dame daisy cloverleaf) document

i

the billigits live little lives serene

yet i must stifle an evilmost scream

as they mince frolic and gambol too sweet

i resist punching my hoof through the screen

ii

rhyme schemes and ten beats are doing me in

so many better words fail to win

and those soggy syllables weigh me down

them soft to the tongue like being and been

iii

i will be a magic goat (rose and thorn)

and soar far above life’s punch in the horn

and prance and caper and do whatever

it takes to make it big like capricorn

iv

yet i take solace in my workly work

even though i must machete through the jerks

soonly saint of the adverbs I shall be

long before we see peace on earthly earth

the rubaiyat of the billigits: part twenty-three (translated by dame daisy kloverleaf)

i

people do not respect the deadly dead

they treat us as though we profane the bed

so said a ghost in her pique and fury

giving the moving hoof an achy head

ii

you demand to be both feared and adored

whilst you play siren in the haunted moors

yet you criticize the quick for ire

when you tell them they have the souls of whores

iii

ah but those are words writ by scribely droops

cliched villainy oh so scooby doo

whom if born turkeys would surely be jive

no fresh stories since jesus was new

iv

the moving hoof has heard it all before

exaggerations heaped with scorn

like nails and hair of the dead still grow

their pinocchio-noses add more

the rubaiyat of the billigits: part twenty-two (translated by dame daisy kloverleaf)

i

asses to asses honk to honky

we know willie is a magic donkey

and so devoted to his peggy

that he never rolls in drunk and wonky

ii

flying horse donkey and twin mules make four

in their barnhouse the kids were bornly born

a boy and a girl each magic and winged

yet both are muley about homework and chores

iii

asses to asses honk to honky

you know willie’s a family donkey

his wild oatley oats have all been sown

But he has a home bar to get wonky

iv

the billigits say that gin tells the truth

as long as you mix it with good vermouth

the billigits say that gin tells the truth

as long as you mix it with good vermouth…

(repeat final two lines until insanity sets inly in-daisy)

The rubaiyat of the billigits part twenty-one: translated by dame daisy kloverleaf

i

there are certainly more than seven seas

and far more than just seven sins to squeeze

out of one lifely life in the small world

it makes no sensely sense to me daisy

ii

and we have fools who get everything wrong

sea of greed in whom ignorance is strong

they know not pride nor wrath nor gluttony

the baltic is just water in a bong

iii

how was it so much finer yesterday

when nobody could count to eightly eight

and sins and seas were all the samely same

before the beauty of adverbs brought grace

iv

the moving hoof shall beat much morely more

and whence it stomps means it is boredly bored

with sinners and sailors and nincompoops

it shall be named the hoof that roarly roared

the rubaiyat of the billigits part twenty (translated by dame daisy kloverleaf)

i

the wee billigits flew to camelot

cos it sounded like a magical spot

they met arthur merlin and galahad

but neither guinevere nor lancelot

ii

rumors of cheating abounded

the lady of the lake sounded drownded

even excalibur was dulled by truth

bitter cold confoundingly confounded

iii

twas a medieval hank williams hurt song

wife and best friend did the king wrongly wrong

but there are two sides to every love tale

some said arthur lingered at the inn long

iv

the billigits offered to mediate

a settlement they would negotiate

avalon froze and the sky grew heavy

when they told the king he was free to date

the rubaiyat of the billigits: part nineteen (translated by dame daisy kloverleaf)

i

wedding bells sounded across the green moors

but not for the wuthering pair of yore

willie the magic donkey had found love

a venus named peggy the flying horse

ii

together wed under a sycamore tree

me and you and the mule make threely three

and there were no rom-com rules to follow

saragun springs is more real than reality

iii

a chorus of bats and rats sang sweetly

the billies were at the meet and greetly

only sour note was raised by a weasel

who dared asked the scribe what is a greetly

iv

it’s a poetic device quickly quick

designed as a literary trickly trick

inferring moodly mood and suchy-such

like placing your head on a stickly stick

The rubaiyat of the billigits: part eighteen translated by dame daisy cloverleaf

i

kathy and heathcliff were back on the moors

he was deep in payback she high on scorn

overhead the billigits flewly flew

and called how often do you need be warned

ii

heathcliff stated he knew no other stance

kathy averred love’s suicidal dance

happily unhappy ever after

was their idea of lively romance

iii

the billigits were nonplussedly nonplussed

in a world where wonders were surplus

that two would choose melodrama and hurt

o’er heaven on the moors felt unjust

iv

heaven is company manners said he

yawning in churches and faked bliss said she

and the billigits flew home enlightened

that the two ghostly ghosts could not make three

the rubaiyat of the billigits: part seventeen translated by dame daisy kloverleaf

i

a comet entered the saragun blue

why it had come to us nobody knew

the billigits flew on up to meet it

no worries just to say how do ya do

ii

it turned out not to be a comet stray

but willie the donkey lighting hairspray

a match the can and the odd desire

to be a painful ass made his dayly day

iii

now willie you will never come to good

burning a hole in ozone like a hood

he smiled his smiley smile and winked

i am young thus always misunderstood

iv

you see nothing is noticed til it goes wrong

like a sour note in a sweet old song

i have come to protest lazy nature

for not making the sky aquanet strong