[Zita Zenda]

I found a simile once,
I was shopping for fresh croissants
on one of my Sunday jaunts

when all of a sudden there
came this urge that I must compare
their golden crisps to his hair.

I knew he’d find me a bore
if I read him my metaphor.
Alone I was, left to soar.


------------------
zz

[Robert Swagman]

A simile went walking once
and met a mean old metaphor
the simile as nice as pie
the metaphor was quite the boor

[This message has been edited by Robert Swagman (edited October 11, 2002).]

[Zita Zenda]

It opened wide to moralize
and spewed forth scenes with oral ayes
its sermons cutting down to size
those crumbled bits of humble pies


[This message has been edited by zbaby (edited October 24, 2002).]

[Zita Zenda]

I seek to spring another loop
of rhymed retorting sans the poop
of critical rifts. Let’s just whoop
it up and go around the coop
–no poultry here, I know this troupe.

I pulled out the Porsche and went for a loop
round Canyon Hill Road. Why, he can’t just coop
me up with that blonde-assed bunny-slut troupe;
got better ideas on how I like to whoop
’n holler. I ain’t into porno-pop poop.

I joined an elite reciprocal troupe
and found that they dished out the straightest poop.
Preferring to stay and not fly from the coop,
I lingered around to be part of the whoop.
My circle of life has become this swell loop.


------------------
zz

[gray]

ironically i join the loop
on this, a day of solitude
spent wading through the cyber-gloop
for books, and clues to things in dreams;
a way, i guess, to not to brood.
and truthfully the only food
that's interesting me is soup.
not onion (found in earlier themes
of which i read a page) (or four)
but carrot soup with butterbeans
to which i had to give the score
of six point five, it needed more
of many things to make it good,
like chilli sauce and souring creams.

my body fed, my mind a hoop
of spinning worlds and rhyming law.

[McVik]

On days of solitude (how droll)
Around the coop the poultry stroll
Put not more onions in their bowl
They seek soup for the chicken soul


[This message has been edited by McVik (edited November 06, 2002).]

[Robert Swagman]

The chickens all have flown the coop
for fear of being chicken soup
so add more onions to the bowl
else, meatless, it will taste too fowl.

*groan*

[RCL]

As a matter of fact, I don't have anything better to do.

The Red Pullet Hen

my lunch depends
upon

a red pullet
hen

glazed with onion
sauce

beside the white
rice.

[Robert Swagman]

Now cut it out, Ralph. I'm trying to pack for a weekend excursion. This is distracting me.

I didn’t mind it when
My chick turned to a hen.
The sight of her lovely tail
Would hardly ever fail.
‘Me, hen-pecked? Never!’ I said
For often would she pullet red.

[McVik]

She pullet red
It's black and blue
Me doctor said
"What's wrong with you?
Next time your fox is in the coop
It's sure to be a wrecker
Unless you stop your chick-hen from
Hen-pecking your hen-pecker"