Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Your Love Is Like Bad Poetry, Bad Poetry Is What I Need

two fortnights passed to wax from wane
and now the moon is full again

and lovers with romantic airs
look heavenward and think it theirs

they contemplate the other's love
beneath the glow from moon above

let them stand ‘neath luna’s glow
it hurts them not that they not know

'pon but one love her light is shone
the moon, when full, is ours alone


I was going to say something about its color, but the only thing I know of that rhymes with orange is door hinge, and I just couldn't make that fit. I wonder what the moon looks like from Nantucket, 'cause I KNOW I can work that in ...

3 comments:

Pick-a-lilly said...

Not bad, not bad.

P77 said...

(With apologies to the DA)

stupid tuesdays pass to drink an drain
and now the fuckin pub is full again

and bloaters with collegiate airs
look widescreenward and drink in cheers

they contemplate the fry sauce mavens
beneath the din of Sammy's ravings

let them sit 'neath the a.c.'s blow
it hurts them not, go Kirk. please go.

'pon but more pints our money will flow
the blue moon is full but the bud light may blow.

The Dead Acorn said...

Fucking awesome. I assume that you'll get a Poetry Slam night lined up with Michelle?

"they contemplate the fry sauce mavens
beneath the din of Sammy's ravings"

So speaketh the Yeats of Hyde Park.