Vignette
I sliced up a little vignette,
served it with a nice vinaigrette.
I must say, it was tasty.
Blowing baritone from a barrette,
it turned into a pirouette.
Sexy, but a bit pasty.
I beat this dead mule for days,
but he just lay there.
No more brays...
Worked and reworked the manuscript,
but the editing was so bad,
I got no praise.
Decided to commit sewer pipe,
but couldn't find my keys.
Put a cell phone to my ear,
and accomplished it with ease.
While I'm shooting the breeze,
how about a little bullshit,
while this thought I cease?
The day in perfect harmony,
spinning this twisted homily,
no one to appease.
Time to drop out, tune in,
and float downstream,
to contemplate my knees.
Vignette of New Zealand
(Sliced)
More Poems
My Place
Read
War's End, the Novel
Copyright
2008 © Ronald W. Hull
5/31/08