sd gross
04-10-2008, 05:28 PM
Mary is doing very well, thank you, and the gallery in Santa Fe sells everything she can turn out!
Poem For Mary
by Stephen D. Gross
The Land of Enchantment has called to Silverwood
I hope the air and altitude do her a lot of good
her pastels are exquisite a polychrome infusion
Where the Muse of Light comes visit
where there’s no drab intrusion
For years she was my neighbor
Lived right around the corner
with chalk and board she’d labor
now she’s moved - we mourn her
Her magentas and warm umbers
broad landscapes of Sonoma
she didn’t paint-by-numbers
each time she bat, she’d homer
One day the landlord called her, said
“Hate to tell ya, Mary
you’ve been a sterling tenant
and this might be kind of scary”
“The rent that you’ve been paying is not nearly enough
material gain means much to me - I gotta have more stuff!”
“I know you’re short on money
and I hate to leave you troubled
but I gotta have more, honey -
your rent is hereby doubled!”
She isn’t one to argue - dislikes confrontation
Saw places she could ill afford
with rising agitation
With HP/OCLI salaries
poor folk displaced by yuppies
those high rents and low calories
Mary grabbed her old puppies
(nasty little terriers -loud,
with attitudes
So hyper-agitated I
suggested they try ‘ludes!)
she traveled East exploring
more modestly-priced terrain
she didn’t mind the desert
didn’t like a lot of rain-
the galleries in Santa Fe
were proud to sell her pictures
they told her O’Keeffe’s just okay
but you, we could make a fixture
She found a place in Belen
just south of Albuquerque
the locals ate hot chiles and javelina jerky
the sunrises were magic
in the mountains called Manzana
the vaqueros looked so tragic
in their blood-smeared bandanas
she found herself an acre
an airy bright adobe
it cost her 87 K
bought a roadrunner named Toby
returned to our bit of ‘Tuscany’
just five miles from the ocean
it breaks my heart to see her go
I didn’t have a notion
She grabbed Betsy and Polly,
their snarls and yaps outrageous
her terriers from Boston - they irritate in stages
she packed up all her brushes
her canvas and pajamas
she left Sonoma’s verdant hills
its enophiles and farmers
she’s gone off to New Mexico
(it really was a bother)
high desert landscapes cooked to go
but her dollar goes much father
Poem For Mary
by Stephen D. Gross
The Land of Enchantment has called to Silverwood
I hope the air and altitude do her a lot of good
her pastels are exquisite a polychrome infusion
Where the Muse of Light comes visit
where there’s no drab intrusion
For years she was my neighbor
Lived right around the corner
with chalk and board she’d labor
now she’s moved - we mourn her
Her magentas and warm umbers
broad landscapes of Sonoma
she didn’t paint-by-numbers
each time she bat, she’d homer
One day the landlord called her, said
“Hate to tell ya, Mary
you’ve been a sterling tenant
and this might be kind of scary”
“The rent that you’ve been paying is not nearly enough
material gain means much to me - I gotta have more stuff!”
“I know you’re short on money
and I hate to leave you troubled
but I gotta have more, honey -
your rent is hereby doubled!”
She isn’t one to argue - dislikes confrontation
Saw places she could ill afford
with rising agitation
With HP/OCLI salaries
poor folk displaced by yuppies
those high rents and low calories
Mary grabbed her old puppies
(nasty little terriers -loud,
with attitudes
So hyper-agitated I
suggested they try ‘ludes!)
she traveled East exploring
more modestly-priced terrain
she didn’t mind the desert
didn’t like a lot of rain-
the galleries in Santa Fe
were proud to sell her pictures
they told her O’Keeffe’s just okay
but you, we could make a fixture
She found a place in Belen
just south of Albuquerque
the locals ate hot chiles and javelina jerky
the sunrises were magic
in the mountains called Manzana
the vaqueros looked so tragic
in their blood-smeared bandanas
she found herself an acre
an airy bright adobe
it cost her 87 K
bought a roadrunner named Toby
returned to our bit of ‘Tuscany’
just five miles from the ocean
it breaks my heart to see her go
I didn’t have a notion
She grabbed Betsy and Polly,
their snarls and yaps outrageous
her terriers from Boston - they irritate in stages
she packed up all her brushes
her canvas and pajamas
she left Sonoma’s verdant hills
its enophiles and farmers
she’s gone off to New Mexico
(it really was a bother)
high desert landscapes cooked to go
but her dollar goes much father