Buttermilk, Buttermilk-

A poem about dinner, and voles.

Buttermilk, buttermilk-

Prickly as spider-silk.

Tangerine, Tangerine-

Best bunch I’ve-ever-seen.

Cabbage roll, cabbage roll-

Cantankerous as-a-mole.

I’ll have my dinner,

And you’ll be my vole!

Author's Note

It's meant to be sung.

Reviews

[Lorraine]

Lol I almost laughed imagining myself singing this with an obscure tune during dinner. As much as I want to say it's a drool-worthy poem, I think it's more on the entertaining side than anything else. I love the way you write in a light and humorous way.

Keep Writing. ^___^

[Melanie Jane Boicourt S..]

I have some sing-songy poems myself. I want to read some of your stories but it is very late and I must retire for the evening. I will try to come back and read some later. You are quite intriguing. I am speaking in my mind with an accent now. I do not usually write so formally. I do not know why I am now. That is what your poetry did to me. Plus it is late. lol

[Norma M Sutton]

Interesting. I like it.

[slemonade]

This poem, to me, makes very little sense. It makes hardly any sense if I am to be honest, but I think that's why I like it. Because it doesn't have this really obvious meaning and because it has descriptions and nouns that usually wouldn't be paired up together, it sounds like a nursery rhyme that probably the Mad Hatter would recite. It's amusing... very nice. :D

[Water_the_Sun]

:P love it :D

very entertaining, nice rhyming as well:P