#fussy - Hello Poetry

I'm not very picky, unless faced with: Icky, sticky, pumpkin! Oh! How I glower! When faced with that sour, Slimy, stringy, slush! So I groan, And I moan, Then I run. My arms flailing! My feet, slap, slap, slapping, The cold, hard, floor. 'Till a hand grasps my shoulder, And I'm dragged to the table.. Then, I'm pushed into a chair, And a spoons pushed into my hand, And that foul mush, is pushed into the spoon. That is forced down, down, down, My gagging, unwilling, throat.

0

Mar 2, 2021

Mar 2, 2021 at 3:56 PM UTC

Keli_

Pumpkin

I'm not very picky, unless faced with: Icky, sticky, pumpkin! Oh! How I glower! When faced with that sour, Slimy, stringy, slush! So I groan, And I moan, Then I run. My arms flailing! My feet, slap, slap, slapping, The cold, hard, floor. 'Till a hand grasps my shoulder, And I'm dragged to the table.. Then, I'm pushed into a chair, And a spoons pushed into my hand, And that foul mush, is pushed into the spoon. That is forced down, down, down, My gagging, unwilling, throat.

18

When something is lost, The importance of it is found, Everyone gives such a fuss, Until it is safe and sound.

0

Feb 8, 2016

Feb 8, 2016 at 6:36 AM UTC

taki-kumiko

Lost Things

When something is lost, The importance of it is found, Everyone gives such a fuss, Until it is safe and sound.

4

All what fussy ***** had got, Something that started to rot, Is nothing else but lofty tails. Her most horrible trot, Got her inside the slot, Of someone called ****

0

Jan 12, 2016

Jan 12, 2016 at 9:27 PM UTC

Atul

Lofty Tails

All what fussy ***** had got, Something that started to rot, Is nothing else but lofty tails. Her most horrible trot, Got her inside the slot, Of someone called ****

6