The Abandoned Soup Molestors
The soup is rather thick today
I told you I don't like puree
And even alabaster urns
Filled with curly-whirly ferns
Don't distract my eyes from soup
When it tries to loop the loop
When a biplane hoves in view
I think again of pureed stew
And all the urns I ever loved
And one big spoiled tureen I shoved
Through the check-out hall, on wheels
Buses turn my thoughts to broth
Symbols of some angel's wrath
Towards the urns I love to love
Any other pots above
E'en should they circumscribe a moth
Strewn consommé on a raft
This poem is do very daft
(And at her spelling all have laughed)
I find the croutons spoil the view
Each rocky crag of toast askew
Will serve to hide the eggs from sight
Until the runway meets the night
And turns anew into the light
Contributors: | asdf, Francine, loaf, Beefless, Apsley, Irene Adler, Anon., Ethetran, Beefy. |
Poem finished: | 10th November 2003 by Anon.. |