What’s Your QuestionA Poem by bigfootprintA fictional satire, but we have all known such a social butterfly.Hawkshaw McClarty sports a happy face, And his
high-hat attire is never a disgrace. He flits
about hither, thither and there Spreading
gossipy tidbits like party fare, This
bell-ringer quidnunc extraordinaire Shares
preevidence with gusto and flare. He delivers
the facts deaf to remonstrance. His verbiage
leaves no minutiae to chance. The
metaphors echo with verisimilitude; And even to
the oblivious, he’s never rude. How a boy,
11, won three college degrees, How the
mayor’s cat is infested with fleas, How shrewish
first lady sweeps the knees -- He recounts
these conclusions foregone. If the hour
permits, he can run on and on. At the pub
he will talk till his throat is dry, Then wait
for a setup to sample the rye. Don’t ask
where Sookie acquired that fez Nor why the
preacher phoned about Inez. Hawkshaw
parades his eloquent oration © 2018 bigfootprintAuthor's Note
Featured Review
Reviews
|
AuthorbigfootprintBossier City, LAAboutHi I'm Doug Fowler, age 77, proud American. Perpetual student, newspaper copy editor (retired), poet, novelist, painter, Christian minister, USAF veteran, and pool player. I live alone and like it (bu.. more..Writing
|