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Mister Martin MacNamara makes marvelously meticulous metropolitan maps.

His wife Wilma weaves wonderfully whimsical well-favored Welsh wigs.

Her brother Barton bakes beautifully broiled butter battered Belgian buns.

His son Sammy stocks sensationally sweet Southern sarsaparilla sodas, and

his sister Sally stacks staggeringly striking sporty Spanish sombreros.

Their uncle Usual unloads upliftingly Utopian utterances under-fined until undermined. Understand? Neither do I.

That’s why his boss Buzzby just barks!


by John Patrick Seekamp 2016




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Behold    skies darkened    from a high hill below,

Winds whipping    and clipping    and bringing a throw,

There    by quiet’s leaving    as the spraying surged so,

Down    where the beach sands    are frenzied and tossed,

Down    where the sea birds    and coasters are lost,

The mischievous    embroiling    of the boisterous flossed,

And darkened skies watched from below,

So then behold the battering blow.


Oh    behold    the tumbling swill,

Waves lashing    and smashing    and crashing at will,

Down    by the rocks    where the foamy waters mill,

There    where the oceans    churn and fling white,

There    where the breakers    and shoreline do fight,

A grievous    turmoiling    of tumultuous might,

So watch for the tumbling swill,

And then behold the calm coming still.


by John Patrick Seekamp 2016