for Barbara S.
Our hostess does not wish to kill,
but the shrimp puffs have an axe to grind.
She served them up. We ate our fill.
Our hostess does not wish to kill.
But the heat of day and lack of dill
have turned the shellfish most unkind.
Our hostess does not wish to kill,
but the shrimp puffs have an axe to grind.
JD Frey – October 31, 2007
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2 comments:
Hey JD: Greetings from sunny, 80-something degree Phoenix. I have a lull here inbetween meetings. Escaped from my marketing director. Thanks for posting! And my name in lights!
Missed you guys this week. So nice to read your fine poetry. Fun!
J
Ciao!
Love this triolet (is that it?). Anyway, it's strikes me as being rather Edward Goreyan in the best way. I can see it with an accompanying illustration of the guests around the table, looking suspiciously at the shrimp piled high on a platter.
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