Jerome Malenfant Poet Footle

A 31-Footle Poem

 Sherlock:
“The clock
Did chime 
The time
At which
My snitch
Appeared
And teared
With claims 
The game’s
Afoot.
I took
A look:
No crook,
No crime.
It’s time,
Watson.
 We’re done."

 Watson:
“You stun
Me, Holmes!
Your poems,
Egad!
Are bad!
Their rhymes 
At times
Are lame,
And shame
Your name 
And fame.
To write 
Such tripe,
Such verse
Perverse,
Will not 
A lot
Improve
 My groove!!”

“Doctor,
Abhor
My verse,
(Perverse
It be),
But see
That you 
Eschew
Verbose
Ripostes!
Though I'm
In rhyme
Abstruse,
Deduce
I must.
I trust
That you 
See through
My verse 
Rehearsed
To find
My mind
And what 
 I thought.”

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Jan Allison November 7, 2016 at 5:59 PM Fabulous fabulous footles Jerome what a very clever poem:-) hugs Jan xx Jerome Malenfant November 7, 2016 at 6:00 PM Thanks. I thought I'd try to push the limits on this.