by John "Bridge" Martin
The characters crafted by Edgar Rice Burroughs
Woke up the first day of the year,
And leaped from the pages with specialty dishes
And brought them from far and from near.
They gathered as one in the great Greystoke ballroom
For early arrivals, a 6 a.m. breakfast
Waldo was whipping up wonderful waffles
Breakfast was followed by sword fights and boxing,
At noon it was time for the sumptuous lunch
Canapes made from the fare on Caprona
Amar marinated some tan-klu to add to
Some said "No thanks," when they started to pass out
But many were happy to have, with some crackers,
Hadron was never too Hasty or careless
Lord Passmore's safari tables were set up
After the lunch, Gahan made an announcement:
When people play Jetan the stakes are set high
The suppertime bell rang to summon each one
Julian came with some julienne beans,
The sandwich bar featured some dijon from Dejah,
Von Horst shared some borscht and Laja brought pawpaw,
Fou-tan brought fondue, Ras came with berries
Whatever they ate, many dishes went well,
At sundown they gathered in John Clayton's den,
But soon came the time when each one must return
--John Martin, 2019
By John Martin
Tarzan! Tarzan! Tarzan!
He's a tree-hopping son-of-a-gun
He's a jolly good jungle fellow
And a bear of a man bar none.
He's a vine-swinging virtuoso,
He's a rip-snortin' lion lancer,
He answers to the call of the wild,
He's a king and a lord and a chieftain,
He's a danged good ol' defender,
He's a rootin'-tootin' roughneck,
On the veldt he's always the victor
EDGARDEMAIN: Celebrating the literary legerdemain of Edgar Rice Burroughs
'Cause he liked what he'd seen,
And as the "Rider" of "The Range,"
He blazed the TV screen.
And then, as Yancy Derringer,
But next he donned a villain's hat,
How many men have ever played
He battled Gordon Scott (and lost)
In India the bad guys said,
And so, he got to be
A Tarzan in an Asian land,
Where "Challenges" were "Three."
Was it the climate or the water?
Later, he returned to roles
Some never got to meet the man,
Sometimes villain, sometimes hero,
But more than just his history
The old Greek guy didn't write any rhymes,
No, he didn't, not even one time.
He preferred to write in proper prose,
While stopping now and then to scratch his nose.
He didn't want folks to think his work was "for the birds,"
Else he may have had the joy
Now Burroughs didn't have it so hard:
His books are sometimes found in a pad
But poetry time has come and gone,