The Contretemps
Around the lounge a drowsy brown hound was routing, and found a rowdy lout shouting aloud and flouting a crowd of stout, proud men who frowned at his pounds tumbling down the ground and they clouted and ousted him out and out without any doubt about that money amounted to thousand pounds.
Copyright © Sarban Bhattacharya | Year Posted 2016
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