Darcie's Extremely Bad "Lonesome Dove" Poetry Page

Ode to Call (written 1/98):

He doesn't say much.
He doesn't have much loot.
He just sits on his bench
And looks downright cute.

There is one man in Curtis Wells
You wouldn't want to harass.
His name is Newt Call,
and Call kicks ass.

Mosby is gorgeous,
And no man can compare.
Newt is his own, though,
And he has blond hair.

You might think me silly
And my ideas are off the wall,
But I really can't help but like
A man named Newt Call.

Alas! Woe is ME! (written 2/98):

Oh, Call, oh Call -- I love you so!
Though some Mosbyites say you "blow."
But Mosby, how I love you, too!
Though some Callites say you "blew."
Oh, both of you I love!
You're cute and smart and all of the above!
Why can't I love you both?
To each I'll plight my troth!!!

Mosby Haiku (written 4/98)

Clay Francis Mosby's
a dandified S-O-B.
He wears fancy clothes.

Ode to Austin Peale (written 6/98)

Austin, oh, Austin!
You are a cutie-pie,
Especially when you sigh.
And you are so very tall
Especially when you stand next to Call.
In BETRAYAL I wept for you, oh Austin Peale,
And the tears that were shed were very real.
Though most times you are misunderstood,
I believe in my heart that you are good.
So this heartfelt poem I send to you.
Austin, my love for you is "true blue."

Newt Call, Ode 21 (from my book Newt Dodds Call: Opus Verissimi, written 8/98)

Oh, Call, Newt Call, when you sit around and putter,
You make make heart go a-flutter.
When you sit on your bench,
Or kiss a wench,
Or when you kick a guy
In a pig sty,
You are adored and will always be.
You will kick ass all eternity.

Can there be enough Call poems? (written 2/01)

Call, oh, Call -- I love you so!
Oh, how I wish that you could know!
On your horse, on your bench,
I'd even withstand your stench!
If only if I could sit with you ...
Call, oh, Call -- how my love is true!

Ode to Mosby's Hair (with help from Debra E, written 6/01)

Damn it, it's not fair that Mosby has such pretty hair!
It's so much curlier than mine, and it has more shine!

See, my hair's in a rut, and HIS needs a cut!
Pass him the Prell, and it makes him look swell.

"His hair matches his beard," Deb said, and she cheered.
His hair matches his dark boots, right down to his roots.

Nothing fake about that, really no need for his hat!
Oh WHY, can't I have his hair? -- At least he doesn't have to use Nair!

His hair is dark brown/black, and he sometimes combs it back.
No need for a toupee, and I can't thing of anything else to SAY!

Ode to Mosby's Hair -- The Sequel (with help from Patricia Franz, written 11/01)

Mosby, Mosby ... oh what hair!
So brown, so shiny, so free from wear!
Oh what lustrous locks, you Southern man!
Oh through that hair my hands I ran!

Ode to Call's Chaps (with help from Patricia Franz, written 11/01)

Lean and mean and made of leather,
They ride on your hips and are held with a tether.
They hug your legs in all kinds of weather!
They could knock me over with a feather!

Ode to Call's Ears (written 11/01)

Call, oh Call, what edible ears!
Oh, how they drive me to tears!
What lobes you have on your head so dear --
Why, I could nibble on them all dang year!

Really Dirty Bad Poetry (written by Debra E. in 11/01)

Curtis Wells is full of mud.
And lots of other awful crud.
There even is a lot of blood.
Which really makes it dirty.

Unbob's pigs are right at home.
Busy rooting in the loam.
They get filthy when they roam.
But Unbob thinks they're purty.

Motherlode of CALL poems (a poetic chat starring Susan F., Debra E., and myself, posted 1/02)

Darcie says: About Call our hero.
Deb says: yes?
Suzi says: ya
Darcie says: What shall we say?
Suzi says: that he is ok
Deb says: keeps bad guys away
Deb says: sleeps in the hay
Suzi says: with children will play
Darcie says: glad he's not gay
Deb says: hellbitch says neigh
Suzi says: does anything for pay
Deb says: with Florie will lay
Suzi says: all through the day
Darcie says: Goes into the fray
Deb says: will make Mosby pay!
Darcie says: all this we say, "yay!"
Suzi says: keep bad guys at bay
Deb says: hip hip hooray!
Deb says: sends them away
Darcie says: oh call won't you stay?
Deb says: we want to play!
Suzi says: in the hay
Suzi says: all day
Darcie says: or maybe in the bath today
Deb says: but not with Clay!
Darcie says: no no not with Clay
Deb says: no way!
Suzi says: not today
Deb says: HEY!
Deb says: what do you say?
Darcie says: HEY HEY
Deb says: in a big way!
Suzi says: we need to stay
Suzi says: in the hay
Deb says: all day
Deb says: with Clay?
Deb says: no way!
Suzi says: no way
Darcie says: no no not with Clay
Deb says: not today
Deb says: I SAY!
Deb says: NEIGH!
Suzi says: what a day
Darcie says: I would never betray
Suzi says: you don't say
Deb says: I may...
Suzi says: make him pay
Darcie says: For Call I pray
Deb says: oh, YAY!
Suzi says: to come and stay
Deb says: don't take the bench away!
Darcie says: from his bench I'll never stray
Deb says: from his eyes I'll never stray
Darcie says: I could nibble on his ears all day
Deb says: Call, look this way!
Deb says: okay?
Suzi says: but it would be better to say
Suzi says: that he is mine today
Darcie says: HIp hip hooray!
Deb says: he's a wolf at play
Darcie says: we could go on about him all day
Deb says: ummm we just did
Deb says: us they'll never sway
Darcie says: Amen
Deb says: the end

Austin Peale (written 2/02)

They think you are a heel.
But that can't be real!!!
Now here's the deal:
You're not like Creel.
You need a good meal.
I know you can feel.
You may need to kneel,
for that good heart to heal.
There's no need to conceal
how much that you feel.

Ode to The Hell Bitch (written 2/02)

She's so white.
She's got a lot of fight.
She might bite, she might.
She's good when there's a plight.
She has insight.
She likes Call even when he's contrite.
She even likes his height.
She would ride into the night.
She's a great sight.
She's quite bright.
She sees "the light."
ALL RIGHT!!!

Mosby Poem (written 4/02)

Hangin' in bars
and playing cards.
Smoking those cigars,
and fighting wars.
Never would do anything untowards.

Tip my hat,
Walk like a cat.
Rub my lip like that...
Prentiss is a rat.
Have a man named Pratte.

Ode to Mosby's Beard (with Debra E., written 8/02)

This here's an ode to Mosby's beard.
Now, we suppose you'll think us weird,
But we wish he hadn't had it sheared.
We often cheered when we saw his beard.
But now we're feared that he's not geared
To ever growing another beard.
Anyways, that's what we heared.
Our eyes are teared; our hearts are seared.
Why, oh why did he shave that beard?

Mosby Prose (with Debra E., written 9/02)

Now, Mosby is handsome as everyone knows.
So for him we wrote this prose.
He's as pretty as a rose.
We wonder if he has cute toes.
He'd have to, we suppose.

Now, Mosby likes his fancy clothes.
He's not like your average Joes.
Who wear only so-so clothes.
I wonder who sews his dandified clothes.
Only Mosby and his seamstress knows.

Now, Mosby has a lot of foes
Who like to say, "Damn you, Mose."
I guess that's just the way it goes
When you are the Mose.
He really has a lot of woes.

Now, Mosby positively glows
Right down to his tippy toes.
He likes to strike a regal pose.
But still he has his highs and lows.
Cuz after all, he is the Mose.

Now, Mosby's great, and it shows.
Do you think he'd like this prose?
Who really knows?
We could go on until it snows.
But this poem really blows.

Yet Another Great Call Poem (with Debra E., written in 2/03)

He's cute as a bug
His nose is pug
We love his mug
He's better than a drug
His hair's not a rug
He likes to shrug
He needs a hug
He drinks from a jug - chug-a-lug
His chaps we dug
His hips they hug
At his sleeve do not tug

A Yoga Ode to Call (with Debra E., written 1/04)

Call, you have such a cute nose
I ponder this whilst in Tree Pose

When I do a Downward Dog
My mind is really in a fog

As I breathe deep and my mind clears
I contemplate on your cute ears

Then I do Proud Warrior too
And think about your eyes so blue

I do a Table; I do Awkward Chair
There's no one like you anywhere

When my butt cheeks are in a clench
I think about you on your bench

Leaning in a forward bend
All my love to you I send

Call, Oh Call, you're my yoga buddy
Even though you're so awfully muddy.

Commuter Musings (written by Debra E. in 1/04)

As I sit here, stuck in traffic
Muttering things much too graphic
Too put on a website for all to read
I think about Call on his noble steed

The man has no need for speed.

He's only going to the Number 10
To consume a bellyful of whiskey and then
Head to his bench and pretend to sleep
When in reality what he does is keep

An eye on Mosby.

Oh yes, Call keeps a watchful eye
On every person who happens by
It may looks like he's not awake
But that's a sorry mistake to make

He's got you covered.

He may sit all day without even moving
But all the while the man is proving
You don't have to do another's bidding
That's my goal, but who am I kidding

I need the money!

No, Call wouldn't put up with this daily grind
Call's a man who knows his own mind
I hear him say with a decided smirk
That job's not for me; I choose my work

I'm jealous.

Call Haiku (written 4/04)

Newt Call has cute ears.
I want to nibble on them
Despite all that mud.

Call's Sonnet, based on Shakespeare's Sonnet 18 (written 4/04)

Shall I compare Call to a winter day?
He is more surly and more contrary.
Cold winds do drive the townspeople away
Although Call's blue stare is far more scary.

Sometimes so blue the eye of Newt Call shines,
And often is his cold complexion red,
On his bench from day to day he reclines,
When he really ought to be in his bed.

But Call's eternal winter will not end,
Nor will he forgive Mosby for his crimes.
From Hannah's death, Call's heart will never mend,
Although he just might wish it to sometimes.

So long as mud can seep, or ice can slip,
So long lives Call, and I should get a grip.

Nibbleable Ears (written 7/04)

Newt has cute ears
They drive me to tears.
I could nibble on them for years.
My heart beats faster when he nears.

N-E-W-T poem (written 7/04)

N is for the nibble-able ears I'd like to chaw on
E is for the eyes that shine so blue
W is for the way he makes my heart swell
T is for the times I feel this goo

Put them together they spell NEWT!
The man I love who's so darn CUTE!