Did my eye see the likeness of a Goddess entering
the bank?
Poetry dripped as dew from her tender lily physique
beautifully present as Keats description of feminine spring
the aesthetic appreciation of this flower was all terribly mine
She had a vulgar tongue that spoke average on her Blackberry
Barbie feelings that made the Back Street Boys famous
Hurting and stabbing my very tender Shelly self
She turned out to be no more a Mills and Boon sweetheart
hoarsely singing a Britney Spears tune in front of the queue
baby hit more one more time...oh no baby no more rhyme
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem