Gone With the Wind
Mrs Trafer, in need of assistance,
attended her surgery hence;
stricken by swelling of stomach
and critically vile flatulence.
She cleared the waiting room swiftly,
as her wind drummed a tune on the chair;
from potential of asphyxiation
she soon was the only one there.
Her doctor, he listened in silence
as her grim tale of woe was begun;
each work punctuated by rasping
after making it's way off her tongue.
After several minutes duration,
the doc bade her take off her clothes;
she lay on his couch, her behind hot and bare
wreaking hideous offence to his nose.
The doc said: "I sure see your problem,
I think I have just what we need."
He left then returned with long pole and hook,
his expression contorted and weird.
Mrs Trafer, she shrieked in abhorrence,
let rip with a volley of air:
"You're not touching me with that dirty great thing,
whoever you are, I don't care!"
"This isn't for you," said the medic.
"Dear lady, I beg, have no fear.
This device is to open a window
for it stinks to high heaven in here!"
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment