Free verse № 150306
Here are the wipes
Would you leave a stain untended?
Would you mask it with false pride?
Or would you do as God intended,
And scrape that blemish from your hide?
Would you follow every motion
With sixty minutes worth of blame,
Or would you calmly take the lotion
And do your best to purge your shame?
Would you laugh while others weep,
Their hammocks balmed from bow to stern,
Then, unmoved, go back to sleep
Forgetting that, once, it was your turn?
Would you take the coward's way out
And hide them in another man's chest,
Then point your finger, as you hear him shout:
I swear it wasn't me who messed!
But if you bear the bosun's whip,
And pay the price for what you've done,
Then stand with pride upon my ship,
And here are the wipes, my son.
8 comments
My utter dismay
At finding today
Terry Wogan's toupee
In a state of decay
Upon your cheese tray.
Whilst your meat you were pounding,
To find a hairpiece; astounding!
And very fishy 'tis sounding,
As I've heard tale this wig was surrounding,
The face of a foundling,
That you were seen hounding.
So can you please explain,
When you claim to abstain,
Why you're snorting cocaine,
And smell of champagne,
You've created a stain,
On this poor foundling's brain,
Making it plain,
'Tis okay to obtain,
A hairpiece of fame,
And embark on a campaign;
Of pedaristic shame,
And then later proclaim,
'Twas the hairpiece to blame.
Well I fear for your soul,
As you pummel his hole,
With the wig that you stole.
Incidentally, the above is a fine example of my favourite rhyme scheme:
A A A A ... until you run out of things that rhyme with A
B B B B ... until you run out of things that rhyme with B
C C C C ... and so on
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