Monk skunk
In jeep’s warmth repose
a key turns round
no more
peace nor skunk alas
skunk piece remains
.
Monks furry striped friend
To Dearborn an alarming noise
Reeks of cold vengeance
.
In the frozen north
Despicable deeds dawned early
A skunked monk cries
.
what I’m laughing at hardest is that it took you less than an hour to put together that little rhyme. hillllarious.
If I could find the parts and pieces,
Less, of course, the guts and feces,
I’d stich and sew with craft and care
Every single skunky hair,
'And like Roy’s Trigger, restored in figure
He’d sit inside the downstair’s fridge
Until I cross that Rainbow Bridge.
The End
These poems stink.
I’m a bit surprisd nobody went for “funky”.
Monks’ funky skunky
Meets creepy jeepy most foul
Road kill? Not likely
I have tears of laughter running out of my nose, it hurts!
Message to Tom D: next time you hear some kids talking about smoking some skunk, don’t get any more bright ideas!
Hey funny man, you’ve really outdone yourself this time.
uh oh. Call Westborn Chrysler. Ask for the service center.
uh oh. Call Westborn Chrysler. Ask for the service center.
And bring your own card board box. I’d also recommend a couple of gallon sized zip lock bags.
I love Haiku.
Well done.
That’s full on huge.