Sing a song of sixth-sense, a pocket full of sign
Four-and-twenty omens baked in a brine
When the mind is opened, the omens start to sing
Wasn’t that a tainted dish to set before the king?
The king was at the Playboy Mansion, hopping on a bunny
The queen was in her TV parlor, watching something funny
The maid was in the sweatshop, slaving for her pay
When along came an omen, and took her job away
I feel like I fell down a rabbit hole. I would love to see inside your head when you come up with these delightful concoctions. You really were meant to write poetry.
ReplyDeleteyou for sure manage to surprise with your writing...always wonder about your inspiration..smiles
ReplyDeletenice one!
Oh wow Eric, that's really good. Thought provoking!
ReplyDeleteGreat change up to the old rhyme.
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely brilliant!
ReplyDelete