The spy

I grasp my cow, it's tiny scowl
so when we think, despite the sink
you grow your toes, in desperate throes
and pretend they're not so fowl.

If when we turn, without a burn
and tackle every scullery
we can skip on vile skullduggery
and see a daisy crimelord spurn

I grab your foot, with a smelly curse
and try to make it relevant
so give up verse, and then traverse
Some broken glass, and raise an undead revenant.

About This Poem

Last Few Words: Just don't ask. Ok?

Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Region, Country: Sydney, Australia, AUS

Favorite Poets: The Romantics, The Mersey Sound, The Beats and, of course, The Bard

This user supports Neopoet so it can be free to all

Comments

Sparrow

8 years ago

Jess

I grabbed at my feet,
Thought holy cow
Why do you scowl
Was I indiscreet

In desperation now
My toes I always know
Sometime so sweet
Other times so foul

When foul desperate I be
Scullery skulduggery
In the sink to clean
Sweet daises they glean

Step aside with your meat
I ain't going to grab your feet
Relevant verse transverses
Now I wait for Neo curses..

Not sure where this write of yours came from, or is going but it is fun to play with..
My Hobbits feet is square and hairy I is no Fairy.
Loves you Bru,
Yours Ian..