Swooping Ono Delight
This is an ode to all things past,
Whose dust our noses savour
In keeping with a woman's charm,
A harlot's paltry flavour
Here's to the gal who lives on the hill,
Whose dust our eyes disparage
We hate what we cannot love, refuse to know
A proper woman's carriage.
Miscarriages are seldom fun
Cursed spontaneous abortion!
But bless the sweet placental nun
And her Augustinian contortion.
Twisted suffering, delighted flagellant
Pancreatic lesion
Torn, enduring, estatic, flatulent,
A rhyme without a reason!
Prince, you see me bleeding here
torn to smattered bits,
The apes of idleness adhere
to their lazy mothers' teets.
This is an ode to Falstaff's paunch
Whose girth's the stuff of songs
He drank 5 bott's of sack for lunch
And died fat in his sarong!
This was an ode to all things past
Before the spell was broken
By the sudden icy blast
It's final words were spoken!
| Contributors: | Stacy, Roland, lucretia, Bop, Kevin, Lucretia, 'A GIRL NAMED SUE', TG, KD, P. |
| Poem finished: | 2nd March 1997. |