| |
There once was a poet named Wiffle,
he never wrote porno or piffle.
Though the powers decreed
he had sinned and indeed
he repented and showed a small sniffle.
He'd forgotten that poets may not
use their talent to....well, lose the plot.
Mr. Wiffle my dear
please behave now, you hear
or you may get yourself really shot!
I will say that (this is a conclusion) ,
we are left with the son of illusion
put your thoughts in between
all the lines to be seen
by the ones who can practice collusion.
I can say 'oh I love what you wrote
and your rhyme, (is it cute rhymes with goat) .'
Mr Wiffle my friend
you will win in the end
and you know I shall give you my vote.
Herbert Nehrlich
|
|
User Rating: |
|
--
/10
(0 votes) |
|
|
|
E-mail this poem to e friend