Marionettes On A Fine Coated Wood Poem by Ianaldo Prescott Pourchot

I was sitting on the veranda one day.
I looked out into the flowery bourrée,
A patch of annuals, and a’wine red rose.
The’wine red rose softly trickled my nose.
I debated, full arguments with myself,
“What will I do with this wine red ROSE?
Should I give it to her as a gift? ” I thought,
I looked into the gardens and saw a tree.
I cut it down! — I swung the axe tranquilly
Then I carved the wood into little shapes,
Much time went by as I kept my eye on Rose
Before morning, I had figures with toes
By evening time, I had a lil’ face with eyes
By 1 at night, I had people, celery sized
And I nailed them to a fine coated wood.
Morning came again, “O Heavenly GOD! ”
The people were bare, and blank to the bone
AH! The ROSE! ! ! The’wine red ROSE! ! !
I took the rose and sliced her flesh into rows
I placed them on the bed, then strung them out
Into fine linen pieces of lavender thread,
And with a broken rose, I made people clothes,
Which looked striking on the marionette,
“Oh thank you Rose, she’ll love it! ” I said.