Ode To Corn

My teeth crunch into golden heaven,
savoring fresh cream and salt.

This is my tenth - wait, no - eleventh
cob of corn. Time for a malt.

Corn cob, Mom, Bob,
Can't have another?

We love each other,
so you must.

Cob of corn, my golden heaven,
After you I love to lust.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

Poem

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Yerraguntala Avatar
February 6, 2021 at 11:19 AM
Dope
Man Avatar
July 4, 2018 at 12:14 AM
I just saw where you don't like corn on the cob?!?! I can't even imagine!
Man Avatar
July 4, 2018 at 12:13 AM
It's hard to beat farm fresh corn on the cob!
Dewey Avatar
July 3, 2018 at 7:31 AM
P. S. I do not actually like corn on the cob; my poems do not necessarily reflect my opinions.
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