Games With Rhyme Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Games With Rhyme
A man who really was a clone
stood near the public telephone.
He could not get a dial tone
nor did the little fellow own
a musiclover's saxophone.
The reason for this is well known
he had a broken knucklebone.
He judged that he would now postpone
the urgent call to Yellowstone.
Instead he used Eau de Cologne
to whip up his testosterone.
Alas, so sad. He was alone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/2/2024 8:25:41 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Oh Herbie I hear you bemoan when you sit all alone the throne that the bank just won't give you a loan cos they say that you're just a poor drone. I do believe it's catching. Crazy man. Crazy poem. love, Allie xxxxxxxxxxxxxx