Just deserted after make-up refuselled,
I, who would have snoozled, hereafter
lose laughter, appear a foozle cahoozled,
as daft as a woozle or even dafter.
The hamstrung string is bamboozled,
snaking like a hung verdict noose loose from the rafters, -
when will the West wind flow less confuselled
blowing our just desserts as afters?
© Jonathan Robin – Parody author unknown possibly Witter Bynner written 3 January 1992 revised 8 October 2006 previous title Winds
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem