A WOMAN’S POEM:
Before I lay me down to sleep,
I pray for a man who’s not a creep,
One who’s handsome, smart and strong.
One who loves to listen long,
One who thinks before he speaks,
One who’ll call, not wait for weeks.
I pray he’s rich and self-employed,
And when I spend, won’t be annoyed.
Pull out my chair and hold my hand.
Massage my feet and help me stand.
Oh send a king to make me queen.
A man who loves to cook and clean.
I pray this man will love no other.
And relish visits with my mother.
A MAN’S POEM:
I pray for a deaf-mute gymnast nymphomaniac with
big boobs who owns a bar on a golf course,
and loves to send me fishing and drinking. This
doesn’t rhyme and I don’t care.
Pretty funny satire.
ReplyDeleteRhyming is such a waste if time. See how short and to the point that guy poem is.
ReplyDeleteBoth are funny and to the point!
ReplyDeleteA man who loves to cook and clean is not common.
ReplyDeleteI love to cook, and I don't mind sharing the housework. That said, I think the man's poem has a certain attraction, except for the golf course part.
ReplyDeleteGosh, I could be alla those in the Great Beyond, girl - especially the 'kissing-your-feets' part. Yummm. But, yet, not on earth; we must make it Upstairs first. Then, Glory2God!! I'll be everything and anything you desire for eternity, miss gorgeous. Lissen... FOUR!! blogs which tell of the eXXXcitement of Heaven for eternity; we ROTE ‘{theeyebeam}’ to show how corrupt the finite world has become... yet, this is a true story about sex in Heaven after we croak. C'mon, people. The Liar's a deceiver: ain't no sex in Hell, yet, puh-lenty of sex Upstairs for eternity. God bless you. Meet me Upstairs.
ReplyDelete