Ire

Written by: Giorgio A. V.


Thy sightly, blooming charm, gents' thoughts enthralled,
and attar's scent, their wonderment inflamed,
revealing and contoured thy dressing mould,
transformed their sentiments to status maimed!

The short, designer-made and bold tight skirts,
thy geodetic curves embraced like gloves,
where insolent, male feelings, made for birds,
provoked thine ardour and my savage shoves.

Thou courted wert, by the surrounding plebe,
that dull and raw, with amateurish flair,
undaunted forged inventiveness, and dweeb
they lionhearted tried to kiss your hair.

Disdained, the suitors though, exclaimed defeat,
thy beau's wrath proved their charming obsolete.

© 11-11-2013, G.V., All Rights Reserved
(sonnet, humor)

:)
(Hmm... Don't let my smile cozen you. I am still very angry!)