I eat the meat that you defeat
With broken wads between my teeth:
Where ships set sail, toy boats through tongues,
--I’m a Frenchman with English lungs.
She snort her Absinthe through her pipe!
--That wily weaver, ancient snipe
Airplanes complaints of dire straits,
While she sort out synthetic aches!
“Oh no! not this again.---
You’re chewing on the words I sent?”
Or so she says, with eyes hell bent,
“I forgot.--You said, ’French hen’.”
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(09-06-2012, 05:12 AM)rowens Wrote: I eat the meat that you defeat
With broken wads between my teeth:
Where ships set sail, toy boats through tongues,
--I’m a Frenchman with English lungs.
She snort her Absinthe through her pipe!
--That wily weaver, ancient snipe
Airplanes complaints of dire straits,
While she sort out synthetic aches!
“Oh no! not this again.---
You’re chewing on the words I sent?”
Or so she says, with eyes hell bent,
“I forgot.--You said, ’French hen’.”
I think it's "CARCINOGENIC" but that means that 6 down can't be "CUNEIFORM".
Aw, the hell with it.
Best,
tectak
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Joined: Dec 2009
it's snorts i think. and sorts
i have to say i couldn't get it. (yeah we had a chat and this time i got the stick
)
for some reason i feel like i'm being mocked
thanks for the read
"I feel like I'm being mocked..." Welcome to my self reference school of paranoia.--- And a fella's having a row with his French lover over dinner. Or maybe a naked lunch. If anyone's being mocked it's the French girl. Another one of my bitter ends.
Posts: 5,057
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the last verse on reflection is quite scathing.
bitter ends or hens
There's plenty scathing blues songs, like:
"my milk cow been ramblin for miles around,
she been servin some other man's bullcow, in this strange man's town."
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Nice opening couple of lines and the middle verse is pleasingly quirky. As for the rest, well I guess you had to be there.
"I'm homme francais with English lungs" would sound nice but maybe that ruins the last line of the poem. I can't tell.
Oh no! not this again.--- - too short a line.
Ray
Before criticising a person, try walking a mile in their shoes. Then when you do criticise them, you're a mile away.....and you have their shoes.
I don't like the poem because rhyme and even accidental rhythm give me a headache. I'm obsessive that way. Even good songs have that effect on me, I listen to them again and again for the satisfaction I feel when it finally stops.
