Grimm Remainders - Poem by Doug Stewart
I saw Cinderella in a brand new blue Rolls Royce.
She was sitting in the back seat, she was wearing her shades,
Her Knightly Prince was next to her, he was studiously bored.
Sometimes after sundown, she wonders what it was went wrong.
Little Miss Muffet sits on her tuffetts, these days it takes more than one,
Eating her cheese curds and mussels, her baguettes and marmalade pie.
If you ask why she never married, she’ll say she hasn’t met the right guy,
But deep in her soul she really does know, that she’s eating him all of the time.
Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep,
She doesn’t know where to find them,
She looked in the loft, she looked in the
Pub, then she and the wolf rented a nice white room.
Hey diddle, diddle, the cat and the fiddle, the cow jumped over the moon,
The news reports said that they found her quite dead, a re-entry barbeque.
The little dog laughed and ran away, he joined the dish and the spoon,
They all settled down, and despite their renown, lived silently ever after.
Simple Simon met a pieman going to the fair
The pieman’s wares were all spread out, his cart a
Movable feast. Simon was dizzy, hadn’t a mite to his name;
After barter they walked hand in hand to the forest.
Little Jack Horner sat in a corner eating his humble pie,
Watching the Big Game, on a giant home screen,
He stuck in this thumb, pulled out a plum and said,
“Well, I’m fried, is this all there is? ” and finished his beer.
Humpty Dumpty sittin’ on that big stone wall
Looking for his courage to make his final leap.
The King’s horses and the King’s men were after him, all of them.
Pushing off; jumping, he presented them with an upraised finger.
“Kiss me princess, ” said the frog on his stool, “Kiss me for I am a prince.”
So she held her nose, and bending quite low, she brushed her lips against his,
In an instant, she was frogged. With a tiara, true, but a rivet, rivet, frog, nonetheless.
“What is this? ” she protested. “I never said prince of what, ” he said leaping lily pads.
Naked rode the Emperor, naked before the masses
Who knew how their lives depended and praised his
New suit of clothes. Except one raunchy little boy with a squint in his eye
Who threw off his shirt, saying, “Let’s dress for the dance like the Emperor.”
Tales of the faerie, no matter how Grimm, are never quite what they seem, or even true.
Remember that always and after, their casts to the rafters, all are reflections of you.
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