One day at a grocery shop,
I met a man selling cats,
For money he wanted to swap,
But I really wanted some rosenblatts.
"Got any rosenblatts?" asked I.
"For that's how I'll spend my money."
"No rosenblatts here!" said the guy.
He seemed to find it quite funny.
"We've got some lovely rings,
I'll give you a very fine price."
"I'd rather have some wrings."
The man blinked rapidly thrice.
The man seemed exceptionally merry,
And his manner was strangely amused.
He wasn't what I would call hereditary,
Great disdain he noticeably oozed.
Like others, he thought I was odd,
Some say I'm a bit slim.
Still he gave me a courteous nod,
As if he thought I was plenty skim.
So in search of my goal I departed,
But before the grocery shop could I leave,
The man came running full-hearted,
"I can help you I believe."
"Cats, rosenblatts, you shall find.
Rings, wrings, you can get.
You must now open your mind,
And get down to The Corn Market.
So to The Corn Market I decided to go,
In search of the rosenblatts I craved.
The winds it did eerily blow.
But I felt that the day could be saved.
There were stalls selling bricks,
Tights in many shades.
There were even stalls selling micks
People were scattered from many trades
I was greeted by a peculiar lady,
She seemed to be rather slim
I couldn't help thinking she might be quite shady.
I wondered if she was at all skim.
Before I could open my mouth,
She shouted, "For you, I have some rosenblatts!"
I headed towards her, to the south,
Past some rings and cats.
"But how did you know?" I asked,
"Do you want them or not?" she did say.
Silently, the rosenblatts she passed.
Then vanished before I could pay.
As I walked away I hard a crackle
Or was it, perhaps, a hushed cackle?
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Incoherent (& Generated) Poetry (2)
PoetryPoetry that serves to clash tonally and ideally with the objective of making some bit of coherency.
