From the author:

From the Author:

I will not introduce myself.
I will not ask "How do?"
I will not wave, I will not bow,
Or shake a hand with you.

For I am not polite, my friend;
I have no social grace.
Like you, I have no manners,
And I never learned my place.

Instead I'll write a poem
And I'll put myself in verse,
And if you like the sound of me,
Well, THEN we might converse.

So read a line or two of me,
Or don't, if it's a chore,
But since you've read fifteen of me
I bet you'll read one more.

Click here to contact the author
(...or don't...he doesn't really trust emails from children. They can be sticky).

Saturday, 8 February 2014

Lucinda Met a Zombie Man

Lucinda met a zombie man;
She vowed she’d be his bride.
A bride!  A bride!  At last, a bride!
What difference if her groom had died;
She knew his loving, milky eyes
Saw only what’s inside.

She knew he didn’t mind her limp,
Her crooked teeth or lazy eye.
Her tangled hair flew everywhere,
Her zombie man, though, didn't care.
And what’s a wart or twenty-two;
Her zombie man, he looked right through.
His love was simple, pure and true.

A wedding cake and pink champagne!
A cake and pink champagne!
Lucinda knew, oh yes, she knew,
Her zombie love, he loved her true;
He loved her for her brain.

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