Two humorous "Poems By Tom"

Here are a couple of humorous poems, I wrote on the spur of the moment when responding to some commentary on my poem " Wedding Day", I'm posting it here because we thought the other Jammers might enjoy it.( if they ever look here, =\ )

The First one is a "sequel" to the poem afore mentioned. Here it is I hope y'all like it! ( I suggest reading Wedding Day before you read this you would more see the humor in it.) ( be merciful I only spent 2 minutes to write it =P . )

( yet to be titled)
By
Tom

OH how happy I used to be like a Bird upon the wind;
but now my will, to this Tyrant-witch, I bend.
OH how wretched am I; I serve her night, and day,
and my only reward for this, is a passing glances this way.
And every time she looks at me it sends a shiver down my spine;
OH God this must be a punishment for all my wretched crimes
I serve her night, and day with my soul, and will to hers bent;
Oh how hard it is to bear such a wretched punishment.
OH why was I, to her bound for all eternity?!
I miss my freedom of bachelorhood, and its sweet serenity!

and here is a poem I wrote to honor the Angelic beauty of our friend, Rocio. ( I am only kidding, I don't really think this about Rocio) ( she is very pretty =) ( The only reason I wrote this about Rocio, was in respones to here comment on, wedding Day )

Ode To Rocio
By
Tom

OH Rocio, oh Rocio

Your dark, and deep eyes are like

The large and endless Sea-o
Your hair is like the mulch which people pay so much to buy;
And, oft I wish I could have some!! to replenish my garden's supply.
And I so miss your voice which I have little heard;
but I do remember it sounded like an aged and old buzzard.
Ohhh and your gracefulness, it was like that of pink elephants on parade;
but no, perhaps it was closer to hippos, doing ballet!!
And your teeth were white like granny's, which she did soak almost every night;
so that every time I saw you, I was blinded by those pearls of yellow-white!

I am only kidding, I love you, Ro =P

The First Jam Wedding!

(Or, well, the first wedding of two Jammers,) was on Saturday!

God bless you, Conrad and Erin, and grant you all happiness in your married life!

Dear Conrad and Erin,
Today you are wed;
May ten thousand blessings
Pour down on each head;
For one out of two
Is woven today,
As two violins
One sweet melody play.
Santiago protect you,
Your guardian divine;
May your children flourish
As grapes on the vine;
And may the sweet notes
Of your holy accord
Be one richly harmonized
Praise to Our Lord.
As Mary and Joseph
May both of you be
United forever
In true charity;
One mind and one heart,
One true love alway,
Till death do you part,
As you vowed on this day.
--July 25, 2009

Another, Poem By Tom, " mass for the dead"

Today I went to a funeral, a Mrs. Mary Jane Smith, she was an old woman, she had 6 children,
11 ( I think ) grand children and 3 great-grand children. The High mass was at St. Judes' chapel, in Stafford TX. It was very Beautiful Sam. sang the mass, alone...... (by choice, lol thats Sam for you, but No one at St. Jude's can sing as good as he, anyways...) it was very beautiful And it was old Fr. Campbell, who was saying the mass, I wrote a poem on it here it is, hope you like it. sorry for any miss-spellings. I just wrote it like half-n-hour ago, tell me what you think.

A mass for the Dead

By
Tom


To see
velvet garments in mournful black,
gently swaying back and forth;
like the swinging of the pendulum, that keeps time on us all,
draped over old Father Time himself.
With every solemn genuflection
of his shaking frame,
there was a sort of tired plea
for mercy on the departed soul.

While gently, and steadily,
like the moon hung tide,
did Sam's voice ebb and flow
with the solemn tones of the mass.

Solemn and, quiet sat the black draped coffin,
silently listening to the mournful prayers
made by the priest's shaking voice;
and then to the steady reply,
in its gently chanted, solemn tones.

So, silently stood I,
as the mournful asperges
wept its blessed tears over the quiet coffin.
While the thurifer silently breathed over it
his incensed breath, to give escort
to the soul, as she slowly walked down the aisle,
to be united, for all eternity,
with her heavenly Bridegroom.

Then solemnly, did the coffin follow Christ,
to its resting place;
till he comes again.
Accompanying this was Sam's steady voice
that seemed to follow
the Coffin as it left the Church.

Then all was silent;
except the Altar boy's small button,
brushing against the pole of Christ's cross;
Which did sound as an iron bell's pean,
mournfully ringing in the distance.

Jam-Session Fanfiction?

Yep... it now exists! Because, as Bibi and I recalled the ghost stories of Friday night, sitting on the stump in front of the school building, we thought there should be a ghost story set in the Jam itself. So here, for fun, (with a picture for context), is

The Demon of the Stump: a Jam-Session Story















The summer night was cool and dark in the shadow of the distant mountains; but a street-lamp shed a golden glow over the long, low building that had once been a church and was now a school.

In the silence, something stirred by the stump a few feet from the door. Two glowing red eyes shone evilly from a black, hideous face; two black bat wings unfolded to the night air, fouling the clean desert breeze as a great figure rose to tower menacingly over the little building.

The Demon of the Stump growled to himself. For many years he had hidden there, waiting for his chance; but now, he would wait no longer.

"Souls I will have, tonight," he hissed. "Oh, yes... These little fools who think they can win souls for the Enemy by their drumming and fiddling and four-part screeching! Oh, they will suffer for it..."

He vanished back into the stump and waited, peering out. A fifteen-seater van pulled through the gates and a crowd of laughing girls jumped out, chattering about the opera they had just heard, preceded by a bespectacled young man who gave each one a hand to help her out and the priest who had driven them, at the sight of whom the Demon snorted in disgust.

"The kind, the wise, the athletically gifted, the.... the idiot!" he muttered. "How did he come up with these jam things anyway? Sickeningly 'wholesome fun'... ugh."

"One of you should come and take the key and lock the gate," the priest remarked.

"I'll go," one of the girls spoke up - a tall, slim girl with a mass of bright golden-brown curls tumbling over her shoulders and merry brown eyes.

"All right, Bibiana."

"I'm coming too," said another, a smaller girl with straight brown hair and dark-brown eyes, clad in a frilly light-blue dress which made the Demon snort again.

The girls poured into the building, and the Demon watched the two girls walk down toward the gates after the van. The priest passed them the key and they closed the gate, bidding him good night and turning back toward the building.

The Demon glared at the two approaching figures.

"Those two. The ones who wrote that song..." (adding a couple of demonic adjectives not to be repeated.) "Well, good... they will suffer for it!"

He rose from the stump, reducing the lamp to sparking smithereens with one blow of his hellish fist; and the girls backed away in terror from the towering shadow with the glowing red eyes, clinging to each other, voiceless with fear.

"You can run, but you can't hide," the Demon hissed with an evil chuckle.

Both began to recite the Hail Mary, voices shaking. At the detested name, the Demon cowered. Seeing it, the two advanced on him, repeating the prayer in louder tones. He rose up with a roar of fury and pain that echoed from the very mountains. The voices faltered; but the two had reached the foot of the ten-foot Crucifix that stood at the corner of the building, and as he sprang on them he fell back as if burned.

The younger girl set her back against the Crucifix and spoke in a voice that did not seem hers - clear and ringing as a bronze bell, with a power that was beyond her own, with words that were not her own.

"Vade retro, Satana! Scriptum est enim: "Dominum Deum tuum adorabis et illi soli servies."

Her companion gasped; and she looked at the Crucifix above her in time to see the right hand pull away from the wood and point at the Demon, who, with a scream that left Albuquerque shivering all the rest of the night, vanished in a flash of flame, leaving them in absolute darkness.

The two fell to their knees, with a prayer of thanksgiving; and went in to explain to the girls, who were all shivering with terror, what that sound had been, and what had taken them so long.

The next morning, as they all came out to wait for their ride to Mass, one of the girls exclaimed, "Look at the Crucifix!"

The right arm of the Crucifix still pointed to where the Demon had stood; and where the stump had been was only a burned and blackened patch of ground.

A Poem by Tom.

Here's a poem I thought I'd post tell me what y'all think.

He pretended to be a poet true,
and write for the love of Mary Lou.
He said when he gazed into her eyes,
he saw the sun in summer, rise.
But really, he saw his own reflection
of his inner "self perfection"

He wrote poems saying she was humble, and meek;
that she had a voice like angels sweet
But he meant that he was sweet, and kind,
and had an amazing, brilliant mind.
He boasted that he loved her true,
and " Hopelessly, hoped she loved him too"

He wrote things he did deem were sweet,
but they had a stink like rotten meat;
they stunk with the smell of haughty, pride
And were only covered, with a patterned hide.
He said he loved sweet Mary Lou,
he said he loved her through, and through;
but really what he meant to say
is "I love my self in every way."

-Tom

Two Jam Poems.

These are the two poems born, actually, in the pre-Jam visit to Austin; but they are Jammy, so here they are for the Jammers' reading pleasure. The first one (really, written second) was written as the plane flew away toward Albuquerque, based on the view as we headed to the airport.

Austin Sunrise

The sky is violet-blue, and easterly,
A glow of red and gold begins to rise -
A flame to dazzle all unwary eyes;
The day begins, the dark again must flee.
The frightened shadows turn and race away,
Not standing on their order of retreat,
Fleeing the dreaded light on silent feet,
While we with music greet the newborn day.

The day is young, as we; with merry heart
And soul, refreshed and rested, up we start,
To fill its time with actions good. No wrong,
God aiding us, will dim its golden light
Till, as it deepens into dark of night,
We end, as we began, with joyful song.

and then, this one was written early one morning as I waited for Bibi to wake up (because, as we all know, she is very lazy -- (kidding, I love you Bibi!)

Song of the Jam-Pianists.

Our hearts are strung with piano wire,
And when our fingers touch the keys,
Our being is engulfed in fire
Of light and love and great desire
For music's deepest mysteries;
Yet we would have not only these,
But long for glory that is higher.

And this desire for holy things
Is source of sweetest melody,
Sending it pulsing from the strings;
And rising on undaunted wings,
Sweet harmony with harmony
Blends, as the waters of the sea,
And sadly sobs or richly rings.

O music, heartbeat of our soul,
That rends our hearts and fills our eyes
With tears of pain or deepest dole,
Or strengthens us to reach the goal,
Or makes us laugh in glad surprise;
True gift of God thou art, and prize
To us, that makes our spirits whole!

Our music let us boldly raise
To Him that gave us Song and Love,
And as we lift our hymn of praise
Through all our nights and all our days
To Father, Son and holy Dove,
We pray that we, at last, above
The stars may sing more worthy lays.

--June 25, 2009.