After a horrid mix of beer and wine
And too much time spent in a darkened bar
From the dense crowd emerged a woman fine
As cute as any, at least from afar.
“She’s a nine, at least; nay, she’s even more!”
My friends urged me on but behind my back
Said, “In a room of hags she’s still a four.”
I just stared, intrigued, at her ample rack.
We found a corner we could call our own
A cry, “Last call!” could not our kissing cease
She rubbed her breasts and roared a manly groan.
Then lights flared on and I beheld a beast.
If you’re going to drink, do so with care
Or else you’ll kiss fat girls with armpit hair.
Think you can write a better poem than this one? Post it and send the link to CHPoetryCorner@gmail.com. Each week we'll pick one poem to be featured in this spot. Put quill to scroll and get writing!
Check out past poems here.
by Ricky Van Veen at Wake Forest
by Chris Richman at Rowan
by Streeter Seidell at Fordham
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but your governor's son can't pick his nose.
Recording...
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