An antique and valuable Orrery
remained untouched by robbery
in standing by a five-pound note
and a carefully taxidermied goat.
Forty seven PC games,
expensive goods with foreign names
marched quite silent out the door
while parchment letters littered the floor.
Drawers full of Gerald’s crap
fell into the burglar’s sack,
while a thousand pounds of unpolished rock
hid in a drawer in an unpaired sock.
So, nothing lost in what they took,
but what they left was what most shook
one’s faith until it shattered;
a steaming mass of fecal matter.
Comments
Sooz006 | April 11, 2008 - 18:56
lol, while you were posting this I was writing my, Thief, how coincidental is that?
Grogeous lilt to this one. I must say you're very laid back about it all, whether it was valuable, sentimental or not it's still violation and that's what stings.
Enjoyed this poem very much Ewan. Poetry's not my thing but occassionally I can read one that works for me and this one did.
LawOfTheOne | April 11, 2008 - 20:32
i liked it but i dont think the lyrical, rhyming nature of it goes with the subject matter.
Ewan | April 12, 2008 - 11:41
that's the point, the dissonance of it.