So you want to know what love is...
Love is a beautiful thing, of this I am sure
But I can only tell you what love isn't...
Love isn't what I feel every time I look into the eyes of my wife of forty years,
Big fat bitch has a fucking moustache that Amitabh Bachchan would be proud of,
And an arse the size of Calcutta
She can't even cook a decent fucking vindaloo
And holy damn has given me three god damn ugly daughters
I didn't want.
In a list
- Barry Hodges' and Edna Sweetlove's Very Favourite Poems • next in list
- A List Of Fine Poems • next in list
A contest entry
- History Books Forgot about Us (And the Bible Didn't Mention Us.) by They Say Shannon.
600 points, ended November 27, 2008, 16 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
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If my friend Edna likes this (and she does) then who am I to disagree? No one. I shall bookmark this for further mental stimulation at my leisure. It's groovy.
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This is a genuinely caring poem and I am delighted to have stumbled across it. My sympathies about the daughters. Had you thought of auctioning them off?
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Uh, DQ'd is all I can say?
Thanks anyways...
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