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Ima Ryma


Howard Hughes


He was born with a silver spoon,
And turned that spoon into more gold,
Became the world's richest tycoon,
Doing his big biz brash and bold.
Sexist, bigot, anti Semite,
He gave millions to charity,
A darling of both left and right,
Oh how eccentric he could be.
Malnutritioned, hooked on drugs,
Just 90 pounds of filth and sweat,
Swearing he was covered with bugs,
He died aboard his private jet.

He's remembered a poor, rich guy,
Howard Hughes - what money can't buy.

Submitted: Thursday, May 15, 2014
Edited: Thursday, May 15, 2014

Topic of this poem: history


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