I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

8 April 2009

Dirty (April Challenge 7/2)

Prompt 2: a "dirty" poem.

It was a dirty business.
They had to get real down and dirty.
I can give you all the dirt on it.
Of course it was all about filthy lucre.

Really he was just a piece of filth –
and he had the filthiest temper.
He got away with it, being so filthy rich,
dirty little bastard.

Yes, I was dirty on him.
I could have dished a lot of dirt
but why get my hands dirty?
Throw mud, it can stick to you too.

So here’s mud in yer eye,
and let’s not muddy the waters.
Just a mud puddle really.
Or do I mean a stinking cesspool?

It certainly stank
with the stench of corruption,
and yet no-one seemed to smell a rat.
Well, it’s a dirty game.

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