Poetry Heaven

Last night I went to bed at eleven And dreamed I went to Poetry Heaven. Keeper of the Gate was not Saint Peter But Robert Frost - - hey, what could be sweeter? The first person I saw up there was sitting in a golden chair. It was my good friend, Hank Beuning, And a golden guitar he was tuning. Hank, I said, I've known you for years. We've had some laughs, we've had some tears, And I never knew you played the guitar! He said, well, I don't, at least not so far, But I've got lots of time with little to do So I thought I might try to learn something new. I walked a little farther in And saw my new friend Mandolyn... playing on her... violin. And there's my friend, Maddalena Biela with her husband, he's a handsome fella. Udiah was there with Heather Burns And they were sitting, taking turns Writing the words to their new poem, Their collaborative, classic poem about love And it went like this: love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love I marveled at their poem and all the words on it And said, They've written a LOVELY sonnet! Then whom should I meet next? Why, it was James McLain, Just reading some old text And he could not refrain from asking himself: Is it poetry? Mr. Spock was there with his pointy ears But he said he hadn't seen Kirk for years. Argentine Tango was eating a mango. She's a person, you know, and not just a dance, And so pretty you cannot resist just a glance. Bull Hawking - - I asked him if he was Steven's Cousin And he assured me that he wasn't. As I went on, continuing my walk, I met the Electric Lady, and she gave me quite a shock. Then there was Valsa George; I spoke to her with ease. (Does she know her name means 'Waltz' in Portuguese?) Uzefa Rashida was there dressed in white, and she certainly was a lovely sight. There was E Nigma, Ima Ryma and Gajanan, Deep Dark Soul Poet and RoseAnn, Sandra and Lawrence and even Noreen And a whole bunch of others that I had never seen. I wandered on, enjoying my hike, And met a young poet named Smith, Mike. I walked for a few miles, yet my feet didn't even hurt, then I came face to face with the famous Kelly Kurt! I encountered a handsome young lad Who said that his name was Old Dad. But I knew him by sight. 'Twas Wes Vogler, all right; And to see him I surely was glad! I walked a little more, Then suddenly I was lost, And there I was again In front of Robert Frost. I said, Say, I wonder, can you answer me one thing? Why haven't I seen Poe or Shakespeare or Browning? He said, Oh, you won't find them here In this part of Poetry Heaven. This is just the Poem Hunter wing! Then he said I hate to tell you this, But there's been a big mistake. It seems that here you don't belong! ... Then I was wide awake.