Ur's santurs skirl. One chap (no churl: friends call 'im Burl, the Earl of Twirl) dons skirts o' pearl. Tight folds unfurl to form a curl. Burl twirls; skirts swirl. (‘Twere me...? I’d hurl.)
“’Tis but,” says Merlin, ”psycho-neur’l.” Still, dervish, whirlin' gets the girl -- not urban: rur'l! From Russia (Ur'l)... a gal call'd Shirl. (This blather...? As per Lawrence Durr'll.)
Uly Poe pens dogg'rel verse. "'Tis fun," hums Uly, "I disburse." The gamut runs from bad to worse. The matter treated...? Quite diverse -- most, postcards from his universe, replies to grudges he must nurse. My summary...? Let me be terse: a blessing largely. (Not a curse.)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
-
PWWL is pleased to acknowledge the participation of friend-of-blog JD in creating this item. Collaboration in name, collaboration in pro... -
Sphynx's riddle...? Snare for fools: Pyramids at Giza. Pepperoni plopp'd near tools: gear -- amid sat pizza. Moral: T...
No comments:
Post a Comment