Anonymous Papyrus Fragment, Ancient Messene, Date Unknown but Later Than You Think

Fields we had

[        ]

[        ]

[perforated]

[ now?]

[        ]

[        ]

[        ]

[shredded wheat]

Ely[sian?] with honey

[        ]

[        ]

[        ]

[        ]

Bees combing long

[        ] [flaxen?]       

Hair [       ]

[         ]

[         ]

[         ]

[down?]

To your knees      

[the rest wholly eaten away by moths]

Hammock

I don’t know 

If it’s the night 

Wind that sways 

Me or the pines— 

Either way, 

I don’t care. 

Squeeze Play at the Bottom of the Ninth

Oh Doc if only 

I had the strength to show 

The uniformly moved 

There’s not enough power left 

In these sinews 

To delight them, 

Would they settle 

For my laying down 

A perfect bunt? 

Wild Cyclamen Mode

Heads up though 

Seeing such impossible 

Flowers spring up everywhere 

May not always tend 

To elate one 

Let alone 

Make one feel as they say 

In the pink but oh 

Such mixed blessings 

Should they not 

Then give one pause 

To think? 

The Nympho Muse's Classic Ruse

So you think the trick’s in 

Playing it straight 

And narrow, eh? 

Well, come again, Mr. 

Prim and proper one shot— 

That wild Parian would 

Shaft me widely from every angle 

And with a twisted, wicked slant.