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My Old Flames
She was my old flame
I can never remember her name;
she often tried to bite me,
at times it did excite me,
she was my old flame.
My gal Christine
she was pretty, slender, and mean;
she was such a vamp,
in fact was quite the tramp,
she was but a teen.
Then came Shirl
who really made my life twirl;
when she left me I got sad,
She treated me so bad,
thought she was the girl.
Then came Anne
I feared she might be a man;
she'd slap me on my ass,
and was built like Mama Cass,
from her I finally ran.
Next came Betty
we always got busy, and sweaty;
we both had hated Nixon,
she really was a vixen,
she was always "ready".
They were my old flames
I can never remember their names;
they always tried to bite me,
at times it did excite me,
they're all my old flames.
About This Poem
Style/Type: Structured: Western
Review Request Direction:
What did you think of my title?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing Stage: Editing - polished draft
Comments
docmaverick
13 years 11 months ago
you, my dear....
...are very most probably correct. I was under the spell, and intoxication of, "my old flames".
As always, I custumarily was waayyy too quick.
I can hear the cuteness of your giggle.
docmaverick.