William The Coroner’s Forensic Files

Monday, 28, December, 2009

Could Be Verse

Filed under: Poetry — williamthecoroner @ 14:12

When flowers doze upon their lonely beds
And oaken sentries nod their noble heads
And piney cushions snug the cuddled fawns
And dewy gems bejewel the dreaming lawns,
I sit and wait in patience born of pain
For some sweet sonnet to ignite my brain.
And as Aurora lifts her rosey veil
My muse approaches – haggard, had and pale.
Fetid, fingered, rancid, rank and frowzy,
No wonder all my poetry is lousy.

– Victor Buono

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