You gotta love him.
My lover's eyes are crossed, wave to and fro,
His nose, an ogre's ridge, much to the fore,
I send him out each day and hope he'll go
And not come back 'till this lifetime is o'er.
His skin is dire and pitted like a grid,
Wild hair all matted as a rabid dog,
Great forehead huge, yet pea-sized in the id
And voice that would offend a deafened frog.
To his ablutions he won't give a fig.
He reeks of cat's pee and of fouled roe, fried.
His fingernails would be just cause to dig,
Yes, on his stinking clothes fleas catch a ride!
Yet forged in his intent to spare the rod,
A caring heart, that plain, was wrought of God
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Nov 2018
About this poem:
It's not about what's on the outside.
Comments (8)
I'm always looking for something to make me laugh but very rarely find it, thank you.
"And they say her teeth was false
Caused by eating' ocean salts
She's my blue-eyed
Pidgeoned-toed
Consumption Sara Jane"
Good laugh... Thanks !
Yet forged in his intent to spare the rod,
A caring heart, that plain, was wrought of God
Thank you for sharing your poem with us all
Happy New Year