We wander through Geylang
Dark.
Darker because of the crowds.
Each street a new country.
Each selling its similarly unique wares
We watch the girls,
Neither of us talk much,
Just drinking coffee.
Counting the Mercs and Maseratis.
As suited men dart into cheap hotels.
For a short stay.
The rain starts
The shadows of temporary non loneliness hide under awnings
Or dribbling branches.
Ever hopeful.
We finish our coffee and trudge home
wondering
The Soup kitchen's queue are in line .
The economy , banjaxed and dyin' .
When Lehmans went bust
The bankers just cussed
So now , " Buddy who can spare a dime " ?.
I called up my banker , by chance .
With an invite to the " Poor Peoples " dance .
He came dressed in rags
With two plastic bags
And the ass missing , from his old pants .
No Ferraris or Mercs to be seen .
For between us , we hadn't a bean .
The soup it was cold
And the bread , it had mould
And Seamus the Chef , was a " Queen " .
The dessert trolly started to shake .
Baked Alaskas were fried like a steak .
Amid all the wailin'
In strolled Sarah Palin
" Vote me in and I'll give you a break " .
I awoke in a lather of sweat
At the characters I had just met .
With a sad sorry weep
I went straight to sleep.
"Snore it off , Seán , that's as good as 'twill get .
Perspired by Carolyn's , Limerick contest ....
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.