iPods Crafted From Rusting Spanners Or Similar
You think of these as scones
In a game of chess
The brass against the bronze
On her scarlet dress
The bishop takes the pawn
With a hasty wink
The actresses, forlorn
'Fore an empty drink,
Spit passion in the dusk
And poison every rusk
As far as Inverness
On the sands of Dee
We do no more than guess
What her fate may be
The castle takes the knight
In the upper left
Speed infecting spite
For the quite bereft
Of anything but spleen
And spirits o so mean
Contributors: | Surlaw, Apsley, Roland. |
Poem finished: | 11th November 2005 by Surlaw. |