The armadillo of poetry,
never feels life's butterfly,
softly landing on its rump.
As the dearly departed souls of,
William Shakespeare and Mischief,
His beloved pet howler monkey,
Look on and forever weep.
To ease his master's burden,
Mischief then cups his paws,
And craps in them.
And The Great Bard smiles and utters,
Exactly!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hi Shaun, I sometimes wondered if I have a pet monkey watching me and waiting...just waiting...to comment..it might come out with something very similar.! ..you have a wonderful imagination and I am loving the eloquent sense of satire running through this piece...Always a joy to read my friend! xx
Thank you so much Lodigiana and you get it, you understand what I'm saying here. My imagination is no where near as your good self's your poems bowl me over. I'm not one for blowing my own trumpet but just upped Lady Penelope And Parker....No Strings Attached you might reminisce and enjoy. Your friend Shaun.