- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Song of the Derivatives Trader
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Click hereHe swirls his tonic, gin, and lime,
Fits "Singapore" to crossword grid
In the folded SundayTimes.
The newsprint streaks his slacks with grime.
He's out of fags. A pack's six quid.
He swirls his tonic, gin, and lime,
Adds one more twist.This gin's sublime,
He slurs to self, intent amid
Enfolding Sunday's soggy time
When gentlemen, with coaxing, climb
Some random lamppost, which they've slid
Down swirled in tonic, gin, and lime.
His balance—hem!—is not quite prime,
His gait unsteady as a squid's.
Legs fold like Sunday's bloody Times!
He bleats, a blight, a Chestnut Mime
Who homeward now pings, pongs, and skids
With his folded SundayTimes,
Aswirl in tonic, gin, and lime.
—Based on a challenge issued by chipbutty, with a theme inspired by a poem by greenmountaineer.
- COMMENTS
Senna Jawaover 13 years agoWell done. Nice word games. And the feeling that the main character gets drunk more and more, and goes down the drain :-) I like it.
vrosej10over 13 years agoDamned if I know why but this one worked as an erotic poem for me. Made me think of hot older guys in good suits. This one is getting a recommend.
greenmountaineerover 13 years agoI liked this too. However much I tried in the challenge to include "derivatives," I couldn't come up with anything. I'm envious.
