Miss King is fat
with flesh, flesh,
When she walks, her bottom goes up
She bends over our tables, we watch the
weighty sway of her breasts.
A crucifix hangs on her neck
from an invisible chain, engulfed.
She plays guitar and we sing
"All things bright and beautiful,
all creatures great and small..."
Her voice is sweet and her eyes
are watery again, but we don't tell her
she is crying.
Aa Bb Cc
Miss King writes in big, round letters
and no one is going to marry her,
no one at all.
Abraca u magicain nice poem
i wil marey miss king
5 years ago
6 years ago
Reading every comment for this poem has got me thinking, How good can a writer be in sending a message through their poem.
The message here or the story behind writing this has got me very curious
Abbz, care to explain to me exactly what was going through your mind? i'm really dazzled
What I love about your poems and this one in particular is that it's very easy to spot and sense the honesty in your words, Whether it's a Rl related situation, or a story from your pure imagination.
you my friend are truly blessed
one of a kind.