For the Connoisseur of Gout (a curtal sonnet)
Gouty toes are tickled pink by beer:
Light Ale’s frisson melds mace and mustard seed
(due to the way urate is crystallized) .
Lager’s snippier, like Grandma’s pinking shears
while Porter stings like a pet centipede
and Stout’s clout is pure Heaven – vulcanized.
And if your toes get hooked on pain – relax!
Just post ‘em off to Rehab. All you need
is bubble wrap, tape and a medium-sized
cardboard box. Oh yea, and one small axe
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
I'm sure if I did I wouldn't treat it so lightly.
Comments about this poem (For the Connoisseur of Gout (a curtal sonnet) by Diane Hine )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
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