The bonds of marriage aren't something
with which a god-fearing man would dare trifle.
So now here I stand, having taken your hand
before God (and your dad and his big friggin' rifle).
Come in, my canubial... er... princess
There's pickles and jam by the door
The threshold won't widen, you'll just have to slide in,
(And let's hope you don't go through the floor).
Courtesy of the wayback machine, from a poetry challenge in 2004. The challenge was to write a poem of not more than 15 lines, form and style optional, containing a minimum of 10 concrete nouns.
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Wonderful!
ReplyDeleteYou should do more of these! PS: Did we still have the BBS in 2004?
ReplyDeleteYes - and still in the old format before things got switched over. I've looked though pages that were crawled as late as 2006 so far, and we were still the old BBS, though I don't see much of the gang on by that point.
DeleteGood one!
ReplyDelete(Although maybe there should have been pickles and ice cream by the door instead?)
It didn't scan
Delete"... your dad and his big frigging rifle" had me LOLing. Literally.
ReplyDelete