"Now, Frog!"

Jude Higgins 

"'Now, Frog!' ('Naufrage' -- 'Shipwreck' -- en Francais)"

Acrylic on canvas 

36" x 24"

Arma Virique (Pace, Virgil) or Second Amendment Flights

Four men, three armed, from 
a well-regulated militia of nineteen  
drawn by a very close friend of the blog 
several years ago. 

Other arms rendered, whose 
bearers aren't included here, are:
a sword, a slingshot, a wand, a bow,
an axe, a staff, a spear, a whip, a scythe,
a shield, a bomb , a hammer (two, in fact),
a stick and a plata. The young artist 
also drew a lone dead combatant.
Verses originally accompanying
the drawings appear below. 

Adrian's Arsenal: a Stockpile of Constrained Verse

Zany stick        fygures (sic)        pencill'd plain.
You but scroll        to butt whole        worlds of pain.

Chum: beware        l'homme de guerre        avec sword!
His fell move        may well prove        untoward.

Let's assume        gents with boom-        erangs might...
take their best        shots from nests        out of sight.

Any king        heaving sling-        shotted stone...
may assail.        (David's tale        is well known.) 

Do avoid        you a 'droid        with a wand!
Run! Go now!        (None know how        to respond.)

                                                                 (cont'd below)

Note twin schmos        totin' bows.        (Where's his br'er?)
Skip their bar-        rows: tipp'd ar-        rows. Take care!

Fear these guys!        Near their thighs        hangs a knife.
Who's not bet-        tin' they'll threat-        en your life?

Ought a per-        son caught cur-        sin' wield axes?
Not at all!        Swat that gall         'fore it waxes!

Where's the luck!        There's this schmuck        with a crossbow.
'Nuf's enuf!      None need suf-        fer such loss. Go!

Shit! His staff        splits me chaff        from me wheat.
Clue this gent:         "Git thee bent!"        [Hit 'delete.']

                                                                             (cont'd below) 

   

When a bloke's         yen to poke        with a spear
your left side,        what's left...? Hide!        Disappear!

Chimes nex' cad,        "I'm Rex Bhadd!        Fear my pata!"
Joke's on him:        folks him limn        "vir non grata."

Ought a lad        thought "not bad"        with cane whips
get to snag        that lit fag        'twixt pain'd lips?

Men may writhe        when with scythe        you attack 'em.
Moral's clear:        more foil fear        when they pack 'em.

"E-e-e-ek! A bomb,"        squeaks the Mom        of this fellow.
"Show no fear!"        'swhat the dear        gal should bellow.

Ev'ry boy-        chik who'd toye        (sic) with hammer...
must be tarr'd.        (Trust you'll pard-        on my grammar.) 

Might who wields        fright'ning shields        run the risk...
 of a scrap        with a chap        with a disc?

   Sound th'alarm!        Bounder's arm'd        with a stick.
      Answer? Charm:        lance his karm-        a with schtick!

     Tykes with noth-        in' like Goths        in old Edda --
     combat blind --        though that kind        should know betta.

     "One's soul's dead,"        some droll said,        "empty handed.
     Sans one's gun,        man's undone:        'no-man's land'ed!"