Damon
By hilary west
Fri, 20 Feb 2009
- 2686 reads
7 comments
Eager to get off,
He'd drop the rubber pants.
His clients loved to see his prize,
And were usually full of praise.
He would always perform well
And lovers gave him one hundred per cent.
The seasons passed quite satisfied,
But eventually his beautiful black hair had turned to grey.
Lost and confused, he looked for other pastimes,
But not even gardening could replace his love of rubber pants.
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Comments
Attracted by the rubber
Attracted by the rubber pants,
I sought the boudoir to enhance,
With elastic elegance.
I'd swap them for a sexy kilt,
If it wasn't for my fear of ants.
(a comment in progress)
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No but I reserve the right
No but I reserve the right to make minor alterations to the existing comment.
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I think in the case of
I think in the case of rubber pants poetry the rules can be stretched.
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This poem made me smile. I
Permalink Submitted by Belle Green on
This poem made me smile. I liked the reminder that a man's hair will also eventually turn from beautiful black to grey.
The last line I would probably rewrite it as:
But not even gardening could replace his love of rubber pants.
I would cut out the repetition of his.
I enjoyed the read.
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