The Ornery Old Lady's Poetry Tea Room

Image by Thought Catalog from Pixabay
Ornery oughta know better than to leave flowers sittin' 'round. Her cats will eat 'em and barf all over.

Howdy folks! Y'all might have noticed that sometimes Ornery posts poetry on this here website. Now, I don't know too much about poetry. I know I like that there rhyme about not bein' buried on the lone prairie and that song about Darlin' Clementine, and Cactus Clem tole me a rhyme about a feller from Nantucket, but I can't repeat the rest of that one or y'all might smack me.
Gettin' things up to snuff at the ole homestead is gonna cost a purty penny and it's gonna take a while. Ornery is workin' with the state historical society to try and get some grants to make the good ole hotel fit fer human occupation. The ole gal has ideas fer sellin' lots of stuff, and one of the things she's decided to sell is books of her poetry.
Ornery's poetry is sometimes...well, really ornery. But it's usually more fit fer those with tender sensibilities than them raunchy tales she's part and parcel to over at the Naughty Netherworld Press Peep Show. I know Cactus Clem would like them stories, but I ain't sure the sucker kin read.
Anyways, Ornery reckons she kin put out a poetry book a few times a year, and any money she makes from her poetry goes straight to fixin' up the ole hotel! With the repairs that needs to be made to bring things up to code, it's probably gonna be at least six months till Ornery and her son kin move in. 
Once Ornery's livin' here, she wants to have a monthly poetry readin' and tea in the kitchen. I hope she finds some folks who want to join her an' buy some of her and her son's work. I might even wanna join in, and I promise I won't recite that there rhyme about the feller from Nantucket and his formidable trouser trout.

Yer ole pal,
Ghost Town Grover

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