hazel jackson


Short The Dork. - Poem by hazel jackson

He was short.
He was a dork.
He smelled his boogers,
He ate them with sugar.
He ate with his hands,
He was one nasty little old man.
He snorted at us holding a fork,
I couldn't stand that nasty little
Dork.
He was always mean and never nice
That little old man, until he came across this dorky old gal.
She blew his mind with a price tag sale.
What a clever, clever gal.


Poet's Notes about The Poem

meaning hes been like this all his life.

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Poem Submitted: Monday, May 21, 2012



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