Jeff Kyser Poet Rhyme

The 27 Club

The 27 Club:
the strangest sort of pub.
Seems everything is cubes.
(except the ladies’ boobs)
Those lovely duck fat fries
are the exact same size.
The burgers are all square,
with centers nice and rare.
It’s rational to try
their 3.14 pie;
sliced in a perfect third,
the blueberry’s preferred.
The sassy gal with hips
brings twenty-seven chips.
I like to watch her make
a large vanilla shake
with cherries on the top.
Oh man, it’s hard to stop!
You’ll slurp her with a straw
and then you’ll slap your ma.
And you’d have to be daft
to pass up on their draft
with IPAs on tap:
no ordinary crap.
The cover is absurd
unless you know the word.
But speak up and be clear;
no twenty-somethings here.

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for the The 27 Club Poetry Contest
sponsored by Anthony Biaanco
written on 8/27/2022

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L Milton Hankins August 27, 2022 at 8:19 AM Good one, Jeff. Very enjoyable! L Milton Hankins August 27, 2022 at 11:17 AM You are correct, Jeff. I just found that out myself. I think I will pass on this contest, as I haven't the faintest idea how to address the subject! Jeff Kyser August 27, 2022 at 8:39 AM Thanks, I think the '27 club' may in fact be a reference to a group of musicians and artists who all died at the age of 27, but I didn't know that at the time...