|Pudding and Wine
Oh we have nice puddings,
rich with clustering plums.
I dip my thumb into the wine,
My my, what a good boy am I.
So stylish in my velvet coat,
shining through the slanted sun,
I water my Chablis just for fun,
Curl my lip from sheer affectation.
Oh how I dabble in the vineyards of France
on old yellow maps near fast asleep stations
Deep down through the Valley of Rhone I will go
Sucking the grapes, while chewing on raisins.
Tossing the bone stripped of succulent beef,
onto earth spread out under the table.
A worm, the bone, how I am at home,
in a place between nightfall and darkness.
27 Sep 10
Rated 10 (10) by 1 users.
Active (1): 10, 10
Inactive (2): 10
(define the words in this poem)
(685 more poems by this author)
Add A Comment:
It's quite renaissance'ish.
I dig this.
The rhythm kept throughout the entire read.
Each stanza fits comfortably where it is, nice order.
(I feel like I am going off a checklist here)
Slap me. I can't give crits anymore. This write is sublime.
why not... 'what a good boy i um'? since the poem is already silly enough in dress-up... it's not going to lose any dignity. taking the 'ironic' is a dangerous path, since the irony so quickly turns back on the author, if the author seems out of control of his own dialog.
I entirely agree with you Mandolyn
Takes one old fraudster to spot anither Mike
Larry petty larcenist Lark
i think it takes experience, but... if you think i'm a fraud, then that's probably the way you have to view the world. my question is, is it an 'english' thing, this putting people in their place? or, is it personality -- as in, 'mine is cloned from the nearest alpha male'?
There you go again mike ...you can't seem to stop yourself and i am not even a particularly sensitive person....well not about poetry anyhow.
poem by the lord of the underpass and king of the hobos
Fer Chist sake get it right.......lord of the hobos and king of the underpass
Larry on the tramp Lark
This is something to gnaw on during a long cold winter when my tits have froze.
Nice one Lair, though I'd fight to a broken nail just to convince you to say clustered.
A fine set of plums you have, and oh what a bone. ;)
I cluster when i feel its right to Jen the rest of the time i like to exercise a little humor on here, like writing humor instead of humour for instance, but some things seems to be misunderstood or misinterpreted by some, but thats humor for you and anyhow us Brits have a certain way with it that catches others the wrong way round. I like to feel part of a great British tradition that extends from Tommy Hanley through Spike Milligan, and onto Monty Python and beyond.
My attempt at praising this poem with a touch of affectionate humour was an epic fail, I see.
Either that or I can't understand your thick British accent. Sometimes I am hard of hearing :)