Just Silly
There was a man I knew
who liked tobacco chew,
and to habit gave in
spit into the win'...
finish my poem
with your line or two:
There was a man, all
black and blue;
with no one around to sue –
his protagonist absconded,
full throttle, right angles
he rounded – so, not
knowing now what to do...
the poor dear needs another line or two:
There seemed no word to show –
the writer with blocks like holey socks
but not a length of thread to sew...
his choices down to go barefooted
or, for drastic inspiration, have
some perfectly good teeth uprooted,
his muse out of reach
sunning herself on a nude
beach....
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