Julie M. Johnson
The Memory Factory; The Forgotten Women Artists of Vienna 1900
Mark Twain, sitting for his portrait in Theresa Ries’ studio, 1897
Simply Mark Twain©
Copyright 2015, 2016
By Felina Silver Robinson
12 foot or two fathoms now define him
The man they will remember is the man upon the River
Piloting a steamboat
The man who was a miner for a time but failed
The man who was a writer
Who spun many a tale
But whose books don’t align all shelves
Because of his use of an offensive word or two
Of which we won’t repeat
He means no ill will
He’s a generous man
Who outlived most of whom he loved or befriended
He predicted his own end
and his one last wish was to see it through
One fine day when the comet came our way
It came calling his name behind it
Once it had passed so had he and here he now sits as a memory
Sitting as proud as can be to be painted with glee
Just so you would have something to see
When you think of him
The one and only
The incredible Mari Twain
The Writings of Felina Silver 
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