Troubles Because Of Bosoms
Puissant were her thighs that night
Which once had gripped so weak
When Peagle sought to 'Try her out'
In fashion non-oblique
As was his wont
Slowly, as his pelvis cracked
And feet trod on the stairs,
Her wrists became an iron vice
And gave his throat 'a tweak'
The way you don't
Peagle felt a tinge of rage
Before his windpipe split
Thereafter using signal flags
In fashion demi-wit
He had his say
Caustic was her curt riposte
And withering, her sneer
And Peagle had to count the cost
Of getting in arrear
From day to day
Sapient witterings:
When Destiny says 'No',
It's surely time to leave.
Contributors: | Apsley, loaf, F, Kansas Sam, Arnold the Sly Ape. |
Poem finished: | 7th December 2005 by loaf. |