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Poem by Harryette Mullen


The Shakespeare Conference: SHK 24.0011  Thursday, 10 January 2013


From:        Harry Rusche < This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it >

Date:         January 8, 2013 5:50:13 PM EST

Subject:     Poem by Harryette Mullen


As long as we are being in a holiday mood, here is a poem by Harryette Mullen.




My honeybunch’s peepers are nothing like neon. 

Today’s special at Red Lobster is redder than her kisser. 

If Liquid Paper is white, her racks are institutional beige. 

If her mop were Slinkys, dishwater Slinkys would grow on her noggin. 

I have seen tablecloths in Shakey’s Pizza Parlors, red and white, 

but no such picnic colors do I see in her mug. 

And in some minty-fresh mouthwashes there is more sweetness 

than in the garlic breeze my main squeeze wheezes. 

I love to hear her rap, yet I’m aware that Muzak has a hipper beat. 

I don’t know any Marilyn Monroes. 

My ball and chain is plain from head to toe. 

And yet, by gosh, my scrumptious twinkie has as much sex appeal for me 

as any lanky model or platinum movie idol who’s hyped beyond belief.


~ Harryette Mullen


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