Collaborative Poem

Jen24

Experienced
Joined
Apr 12, 2006
Posts
36
Just had an idea which I thought might be fun, not sure if it's been done before. We could write a poem together, one line at a time. Like in the game 'Consequences'. If it turns out to be any good we could publish it on the site.

Ground Rules:

1) Poem will be written in heroic couplets. (Iambic pentameter lines, rhyming AA BB CC etc).

2) Anyone can chip in, when they think of a line copy and paste all that's gone before and add the line underneath, trying to rhyme if they're writing the second line of the couplet, and not to come up with something unrhymable (like 'purple') if they're writing the first.

3) Er ... That's it. If there needs to be some other rules, we'll add them as we go along (that's if anybody's interested and this doesn't just die on it's arse, like I suspect it might).

For those who might not know: An Iamb is an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable (ta TA) and Iambic Pentameter comprises five Iambs. I'm probably teaching my grandmother to suck eggs here.

By way of example, here's a heroic couplet of Lord Byron's:

"And thus they formed a group that's quite antique,
Half naked, loving, natural and Greek."
(Don Juan, Canto II, CXCIV)

Emphasising the unstressed/stressed element:

"And THUS / they FORMED / a GROUP / that's QUITE / anTIQUE,
Half NAK / ed, LOV / ing, NAT / uRAL / and GREEK."

Right. I'll start.

"The sylph Serena rose and rubbed her eyes"
 
The sylph Serena rose and rubbed her eyes.
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies

her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair

Sorry. I did two. Toss the second if you like.

Jen24 said:
Just had an idea which I thought might be fun, not sure if it's been done before. We could write a poem together, one line at a time. Like in the game 'Consequences'. If it turns out to be any good we could publish it on the site.

Ground Rules:

1) Poem will be written in heroic couplets. (Iambic pentameter lines, rhyming AA BB CC etc).

2) Anyone can chip in, when they think of a line copy and paste all that's gone before and add the line underneath, trying to rhyme if they're writing the second line of the couplet, and not to come up with something unrhymable (like 'purple') if they're writing the first.

3) Er ... That's it. If there needs to be some other rules, we'll add them as we go along (that's if anybody's interested and this doesn't just die on it's arse, like I suspect it might).

For those who might not know: An Iamb is an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable (ta TA) and Iambic Pentameter comprises five Iambs. I'm probably teaching my grandmother to suck eggs here.

By way of example, here's a heroic couplet of Lord Byron's:

"And thus they formed a group that's quite antique,
Half naked, loving, natural and Greek."
(Don Juan, Canto II, CXCIV)

Emphasising the unstressed/stressed element:

"And THUS / they FORMED / a GROUP / that's QUITE / anTIQUE,
Half NAK / ed, LOV / ing, NAT / uRAL / and GREEK."

Right. I'll start.

"The sylph Serena rose and rubbed her eyes"
 
Tzara said:
Sorry. I did two. Toss the second if you like.

No problem. In fact, this way's better. You do two lines - one that rhymes with the previous one, and one for the next person to rhyme with. Brilliant.

Consider the rules amended.

"The sylph Serena rose and rubbed her eyes.
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies

her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair"
 
Last edited:
Two more lines

The sylph Serena rises, rubs her eyes.
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies

Her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair.
His thought is bent on lechery. Beware,

Fair nymph, the smirking, lurking, monstrous churl!
 
Jen24 said:
The sylph Serena rises, rubs her eyes.
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies

Her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair.
His thought is bent on lechery. Beware,

Fair nymph, the smirking, lurking, monstrous churl!
The sylph Serena rises, rubs her eyes.
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies

Her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair.
His thought is bent on lechery. Beware,

Fair nymph, the smirking, lurking, monstrous churl
Whose sullen visage makes maids want to hurl

Some sharpened objects, let's say hearts, at him
 
The sylph Serena rises, rubs her eyes.
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies

Her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair.
His thought is bent on lechery. Beware,

Fair nymph, the smirking, lurking, monstrous churl
Whose sullen visage makes maids want to hurl

Some sharpened objects, let's say hearts, at him
Revealed to the world, moral wrong of sin

The simple Serena, rise forth your ways
 
The sylph Serena rises, rubs her eyes.
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies

Her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair.
His thought is bent on lechery. Beware,

Fair nymph, the smirking, lurking, monstrous churl
Whose sullen visage makes maids want to hurl

Some sharpened objects, let's say hearts, at him
Revealed to the world, moral wrong of sin

The simple Serena, rise forth your ways
And turn your face to one who obeys

Who waits for she who. lovingly guides
 
The sylph Serena rises, rubs her eyes.
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies

Her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair.
His thought is bent on lechery. Beware,

Fair nymph, the smirking, lurking, monstrous churl
Whose sullen visage makes maids want to hurl

Some sharpened objects, let's say hearts, at him
Revealed to the world, moral wrong of sin

The simple Serena, rise forth your ways
And turn your face to one who obeys

Who waits for she who lovingly guides
strike missiles—foreign targets far and wide.

It leaves her lonely, sad to say. Her heart
 
The sylph Serena rises, rubs her eyes.
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies

Her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair.
His thought is bent on lechery. Beware,

Fair nymph, the smirking, lurking, monstrous churl
Whose sullen visage makes maids want to hurl

Some sharpened objects, let's say hearts, at him
Revealed to the world, moral wrong of sin.

The simple Serena, rise forth your ways
And turn your face to one who obeys,

Who waits for she who lovingly guides
strike missiles—foreign targets far and wide.

It leaves her lonely, sad to say. Her heart,
And her sundry other womanly parts,

Ache for want of one who can complete her
 
Jen24 said:
The sylph Serena rises, rubs her eyes.
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies

Her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair.
His thought is bent on lechery. Beware,

Fair nymph, the smirking, lurking, monstrous churl
Whose sullen visage makes maids want to hurl

Some sharpened objects, let's say hearts, at him
Revealed to the world, moral wrong of sin.

The simple Serena, rise forth your ways
And turn your face to one who obeys,

Who waits for she who lovingly guides
strike missiles—foreign targets far and wide.

It leaves her lonely, sad to say. Her heart,
And her sundry other womanly parts,

Ache for want of one who can complete her.
Who unlocks this puzzle that is sweet, sir,

consummates fire in an airy nest?
 
The sylph Serena rises, rubs her eyes.
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies

Her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair.
His thought is bent on lechery. Beware,

Fair nymph, the smirking, lurking, monstrous churl
Whose sullen visage makes maids want to hurl

Some sharpened objects, let's say hearts, at him
Revealed to the world, moral wrong of sin.

The simple Serena, rise forth your ways
And turn your face to one who obeys,

Who waits for she who lovingly guides
strike missiles—foreign targets far and wide.

It leaves her lonely, sad to say. Her heart,
And her sundry other womanly parts,

Ache for want of one who can complete her.
Who unlocks this puzzle that is sweet, sir,

consummates fire in an airy nest?
With each pound of her heart upon her supple breast

For dear Serena is abandoned from her undying love
 
The sylph Serena rises, rubs her eyes.
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies

Her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair.
His thought is bent on lechery. Beware,

Fair nymph, the smirking, lurking, monstrous churl
Whose sullen visage makes maids want to hurl

Some sharpened objects, let's say hearts, at him
Revealed to the world, moral wrong of sin.

The simple Serena, rise forth your ways
And turn your face to one who obeys,

Who waits for she who lovingly guides
strike missiles—foreign targets far and wide.

It leaves her lonely, sad to say. Her heart,
And her sundry other womanly parts,

Ache for want of one who can complete her.
Who unlocks this puzzle that is sweet, sir,

Consummates fire in an airy nest?
The maid's heart pounds upon her supple breast.

Poor girl, adjunct from her undying love,
She cries "Free him!" to the heavens above.

Alas! The satyr hails from another place
 
The sylph Serena rises, rubs her eyes.
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies

Her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair.
His thought is bent on lechery. Beware,

Fair nymph, the smirking, lurking, monstrous churl
Whose sullen visage makes maids want to hurl

Some sharpened objects, let's say hearts, at him
Revealed to the world, moral wrong of sin.

The simple Serena, rise forth your ways
And turn your face to one who obeys,

Who waits for she who lovingly guides
strike missiles—foreign targets far and wide.

It leaves her lonely, sad to say. Her heart,
And her sundry other womanly parts,

Ache for want of one who can complete her.
Who unlocks this puzzle that is sweet, sir,

Consummates fire in an airy nest?
The maid's heart pounds upon her supple breast.

Poor girl, adjunct from her undying love,
She cries "Free him!" to the heavens above.

Alas! The satyr hails from another place—
Far Rockaway, in fact. His New York grace

A Kansas girl cannot appreciate.
 
The sylph Serena rises, rubs her eyes.
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies

Her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair.
His thought is bent on lechery. Beware,

Fair nymph, the smirking, lurking, monstrous churl
Whose sullen visage makes maids want to hurl

Some sharpened objects, let's say hearts, at him
Revealed to the world, moral wrong of sin.

The simple Serena, rise forth your ways
And turn your face to one who obeys,

Who waits for she who lovingly guides
strike missiles—foreign targets far and wide.

It leaves her lonely, sad to say. Her heart,
And her sundry other womanly parts,

Ache for want of one who can complete her.
Who unlocks this puzzle that is sweet, sir,

Consummates fire in an airy nest?
The maid's heart pounds upon her supple breast.

Poor girl, adjunct from her undying love,
She cries "Free him!" to the heavens above.

Alas! The satyr hails from another place—
Far Rockaway, in fact. His New York grace

A Kansas girl cannot appreciate.
Bagels baffle her, she can't help but hate

Long Island tea, the prim, smug wit of 'Friends'.
 
The sylph Serena rises, rubs her eyes.
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies

Her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair.
His thought is bent on lechery. Beware,

Fair nymph, the smirking, lurking, monstrous churl
Whose sullen visage makes maids want to hurl

Some sharpened objects, let's say hearts, at him
Revealed to the world, moral wrong of sin.

The simple Serena, rise forth your ways
And turn your face to one who obeys,

Who waits for she who lovingly guides
strike missiles—foreign targets far and wide.

It leaves her lonely, sad to say. Her heart,
And her sundry other womanly parts,

Ache for want of one who can complete her.
Who unlocks this puzzle that is sweet, sir,

Consummates fire in an airy nest?
The maid's heart pounds upon her supple breast.

Poor girl, adjunct from her undying love,
She cries "Free him!" to the heavens above.

Alas! The satyr hails from another place—
Far Rockaway, in fact. His New York grace

A Kansas girl cannot appreciate.
Bagels baffle her, she can't help but hate

Long Island tea, the prim, smug wit of Friends,
For which our doleful satyr begs amends

And schemes to sweep her off her feet, like dust.
 
The sylph Serena rises, rubs her eyes.
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies

Her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair.
His thought is bent on lechery. Beware,

Fair nymph, the smirking, lurking, monstrous churl
Whose sullen visage makes maids want to hurl

Some sharpened objects, let's say hearts, at him
Revealed to the world, moral wrong of sin.

The simple Serena, rise forth your ways
And turn your face to one who obeys,

Who waits for she who lovingly guides
strike missiles—foreign targets far and wide.

It leaves her lonely, sad to say. Her heart,
And her sundry other womanly parts,

Ache for want of one who can complete her.
Who unlocks this puzzle that is sweet, sir,

Consummates fire in an airy nest?
The maid's heart pounds upon her supple breast.

Poor girl, adjunct from her undying love,
She cries "Free him!" to the heavens above.

Alas! The satyr hails from another place—
Far Rockaway, in fact. His New York grace

A Kansas girl cannot appreciate.
Bagels baffle her, she can't help but hate

Long Island tea, the prim, smug wit of Friends,
For which our doleful satyr begs amends

And schemes to sweep her off her feet, like dust.
He's much maligned; he's not all sweat and lust.

He tries the subtle art of pitching woo.
 
The sylph Serena rises, rubs her eyes.
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies

Her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair.
His thought is bent on lechery. Beware,

Fair nymph, the smirking, lurking, monstrous churl
Whose sullen visage makes maids want to hurl

Some sharpened objects, let's say hearts, at him
Revealed to the world, moral wrong of sin.

The simple Serena, rise forth your ways
And turn your face to one who obeys,

Who waits for she who lovingly guides
strike missiles—foreign targets far and wide.

It leaves her lonely, sad to say. Her heart,
And her sundry other womanly parts,

Ache for want of one who can complete her.
Who unlocks this puzzle that is sweet, sir,

Consummates fire in an airy nest?
The maid's heart pounds upon her supple breast.

Poor girl, adjunct from her undying love,
She cries "Free him!" to the heavens above.

Alas! The satyr hails from another place—
Far Rockaway, in fact. His New York grace

A Kansas girl cannot appreciate.
Bagels baffle her, she can't help but hate

Long Island tea, the prim, smug wit of Friends,
For which our doleful satyr begs amends

And schemes to sweep her off her feet, like dust.
He's much maligned; he's not all sweat and lust.

He tries the subtle art of pitching woo,
But his slick fingers send the pitch into

Her dugout, where it bounces 'round and slips


Sorry. American sport reference. Goin' to a game tonight.
 
The sylph Serena rises, rubs her eyes.
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies

Her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair.
His thought is bent on lechery. Beware,

Fair nymph, the smirking, lurking, monstrous churl
Whose sullen visage makes maids want to hurl

Some sharpened objects, let's say hearts, at him
Revealed to the world, moral wrong of sin.

The simple Serena, rise forth your ways
And turn your face to one who obeys,

Who waits for she who lovingly guides
strike missiles—foreign targets far and wide.

It leaves her lonely, sad to say. Her heart,
And her sundry other womanly parts,

Ache for want of one who can complete her.
Who unlocks this puzzle that is sweet, sir,

Consummates fire in an airy nest?
The maid's heart pounds upon her supple breast.

Poor girl, adjunct from her undying love,
She cries "Free him!" to the heavens above.

Alas! The satyr hails from another place—
Far Rockaway, in fact. His New York grace

A Kansas girl cannot appreciate.
Bagels baffle her, she can't help but hate

Long Island tea, the prim, smug wit of Friends,
For which our doleful satyr begs amends

And schemes to sweep her off her feet, like dust.
He's much maligned; he's not all sweat and lust.

He tries the subtle art of pitching woo,
But his slick fingers send the pitch into

Her dugout, where it bounces 'round and slips
To settle loosely on her buxom hips

She smiles a knowing smile and suddenly
 
The sylph Serena rises, rubs her eyes.
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies

Her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair.
His thought is bent on lechery. Beware,

Fair nymph, the smirking, lurking, monstrous churl
Whose sullen visage makes maids want to hurl

Some sharpened objects, let's say hearts, at him
Revealed to the world, moral wrong of sin.

The simple Serena, rise forth your ways
And turn your face to one who obeys,

Who waits for she who lovingly guides
strike missiles—foreign targets far and wide.

It leaves her lonely, sad to say. Her heart,
And her sundry other womanly parts,

Ache for want of one who can complete her.
Who unlocks this puzzle that is sweet, sir,

Consummates fire in an airy nest?
The maid's heart pounds upon her supple breast.

Poor girl, adjunct from her undying love,
She cries "Free him!" to the heavens above.

Alas! The satyr hails from another place—
Far Rockaway, in fact. His New York grace

A Kansas girl cannot appreciate.
Bagels baffle her, she can't help but hate

Long Island tea, the prim, smug wit of Friends,
For which our doleful satyr begs amends

And schemes to sweep her off her feet, like dust.
He's much maligned; he's not all sweat and lust.

He tries the subtle art of pitching woo,
But his slick fingers send the pitch into

Her dugout, where it bounces 'round and slips
To settle loosely on her "buxom hips".

She smiles a knowing smile and, suddenly
Angry, and with no hint of subtlety,

Tells the satyr in no uncertain terms
 
The sylph Serena rises, rubs her eyes.
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies

Her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair.
His thought is bent on lechery. Beware,

Fair nymph, the smirking, lurking, monstrous churl
Whose sullen visage makes maids want to hurl

Some sharpened objects, let's say hearts, at him
Revealed to the world, moral wrong of sin.

The simple Serena, rise forth your ways
And turn your face to one who obeys,

Who waits for she who lovingly guides
strike missiles—foreign targets far and wide.

It leaves her lonely, sad to say. Her heart,
And her sundry other womanly parts,

Ache for want of one who can complete her.
Who unlocks this puzzle that is sweet, sir,

Consummates fire in an airy nest?
The maid's heart pounds upon her supple breast.

Poor girl, adjunct from her undying love,
She cries "Free him!" to the heavens above.

Alas! The satyr hails from another place—
Far Rockaway, in fact. His New York grace

A Kansas girl cannot appreciate.
Bagels baffle her, she can't help but hate

Long Island tea, the prim, smug wit of Friends,
For which our doleful satyr begs amends

And schemes to sweep her off her feet, like dust.
He's much maligned; he's not all sweat and lust.

He tries the subtle art of pitching woo,
But his slick fingers send the pitch into

Her dugout, where it bounces 'round and slips
To settle loosely on her "buxom hips".

She smiles a knowing smile and, suddenly
Angry, and with no hint of subtlety,

Tells the satyr in no uncertain terms,
And lovely round Bruce Froemming tones, "You, worm,

Are OUT! Now take those sleazy fingers home!"
 
Last edited:
The sylph Serena rises, rubs her eyes.
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies

Her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair.
His thought is bent on lechery. Beware,

Fair nymph, the smirking, lurking, monstrous churl
Whose sullen visage makes maids want to hurl

Some sharpened objects, let's say hearts, at him
Revealed to the world, moral wrong of sin.

The simple Serena, rise forth your ways
And turn your face to one who obeys,

Who waits for she who lovingly guides
strike missiles—foreign targets far and wide.

It leaves her lonely, sad to say. Her heart,
And her sundry other womanly parts,

Ache for want of one who can complete her.
Who unlocks this puzzle that is sweet, sir,

Consummates fire in an airy nest?
The maid's heart pounds upon her supple breast.

Poor girl, adjunct from her undying love,
She cries "Free him!" to the heavens above.

Alas! The satyr hails from another place—
Far Rockaway, in fact. His New York grace

A Kansas girl cannot appreciate.
Bagels baffle her, she can't help but hate

Long Island tea, the prim, smug wit of Friends,
For which our doleful satyr begs amends

And schemes to sweep her off her feet, like dust.
He's much maligned; he's not all sweat and lust.

He tries the subtle art of pitching woo,
But his slick fingers send the pitch into

Her dugout, where it bounces 'round and slips
To settle loosely on her "buxom hips".

She smiles a knowing smile and, suddenly
Angry, and with no hint of subtlety,

Tells the satyr in no uncertain terms,
And lovely round Bruce Froemming tones, "You, worm,

Are OUT! Now take those sleazy fingers home!"
The satyr stood and tried to comb

His fingers through his tousled hair
 
The sylph Serena rises, rubs her eyes.
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies

Her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair.
His thought is bent on lechery. Beware,

Fair nymph, the smirking, lurking, monstrous churl
Whose sullen visage makes maids want to hurl

Some sharpened objects, let's say hearts, at him
Revealed to the world, moral wrong of sin.

The simple Serena, rise forth your ways
And turn your face to one who obeys,

Who waits for she who lovingly guides
strike missiles—foreign targets far and wide.

It leaves her lonely, sad to say. Her heart,
And her sundry other womanly parts,

Ache for want of one who can complete her.
Who unlocks this puzzle that is sweet, sir,

Consummates fire in an airy nest?
The maid's heart pounds upon her supple breast.

Poor girl, adjunct from her undying love,
She cries "Free him!" to the heavens above.

Alas! The satyr hails from another place—
Far Rockaway, in fact. His New York grace

A Kansas girl cannot appreciate.
Bagels baffle her, she can't help but hate

Long Island tea, the prim, smug wit of Friends,
For which our doleful satyr begs amends

And schemes to sweep her off her feet, like dust.
He's much maligned; he's not all sweat and lust.

He tries the subtle art of pitching woo,
But his slick fingers send the pitch into

Her dugout, where it bounces 'round and slips
To settle loosely on her "buxom hips".

She smiles a knowing smile and, suddenly
Angry, and with no hint of subtlety,

Tells the satyr in no uncertain terms,
And lovely round Bruce Froemming tones, "You, worm,

Are OUT! Now take those sleazy fingers home!"
The satyr stood and tried to comb

His fingers through his tousled hair,
But snagged them in the twisty curls. There

He stood, hand tangled in his mane, manhood
 
The sylph Serena rises, rubs her eyes.
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies

Her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair.
His thought is bent on lechery. Beware,

Fair nymph, the smirking, lurking, monstrous churl
Whose sullen visage makes maids want to hurl

Some sharpened objects, let's say hearts, at him
Revealed to the world, moral wrong of sin.

The simple Serena, rise forth your ways
And turn your face to one who obeys,

Who waits for she who lovingly guides
strike missiles—foreign targets far and wide.

It leaves her lonely, sad to say. Her heart,
And her sundry other womanly parts,

Ache for want of one who can complete her.
Who unlocks this puzzle that is sweet, sir,

Consummates fire in an airy nest?
The maid's heart pounds upon her supple breast.

Poor girl, adjunct from her undying love,
She cries "Free him!" to the heavens above.

Alas! The satyr hails from another place—
Far Rockaway, in fact. His New York grace

A Kansas girl cannot appreciate.
Bagels baffle her, she can't help but hate

Long Island tea, the prim, smug wit of Friends,
For which our doleful satyr begs amends

And schemes to sweep her off her feet, like dust.
He's much maligned; he's not all sweat and lust.

He tries the subtle art of pitching woo,
But his slick fingers send the pitch into

Her dugout, where it bounces 'round and slips
To settle loosely on her "buxom hips".

She smiles a knowing smile and, suddenly
Angry, and with no hint of subtlety,

Tells the satyr in no uncertain terms,
And lovely round Bruce Froemming tones, "You, worm,

Are OUT! Now take those sleazy fingers home!"
The satyr stood and tried to comb

His fingers through his tousled hair,
But snagged them in the twisty curls. There

He stood, hand tangled in his mane, manhood
Horizantally inclinied - less refined would call it "wood"

For a jealous stallion would surely weep
 
The sylph Serena rises, rubs her eyes.
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies

Her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair.
His thought is bent on lechery. Beware,

Fair nymph, the smirking, lurking, monstrous churl
Whose sullen visage makes maids want to hurl

Some sharpened objects, let's say hearts, at him
Revealed to the world, moral wrong of sin.

The simple Serena, rise forth your ways
And turn your face to one who obeys,

Who waits for she who lovingly guides
strike missiles—foreign targets far and wide.

It leaves her lonely, sad to say. Her heart,
And her sundry other womanly parts,

Ache for want of one who can complete her.
Who unlocks this puzzle that is sweet, sir,

Consummates fire in an airy nest?
The maid's heart pounds upon her supple breast.

Poor girl, adjunct from her undying love,
She cries "Free him!" to the heavens above.

Alas! The satyr hails from another place—
Far Rockaway, in fact. His New York grace

A Kansas girl cannot appreciate.
Bagels baffle her, she can't help but hate

Long Island tea, the prim, smug wit of Friends,
For which our doleful satyr begs amends

And schemes to sweep her off her feet, like dust.
He's much maligned; he's not all sweat and lust.

He tries the subtle art of pitching woo,
But his slick fingers send the pitch into

Her dugout, where it bounces 'round and slips
To settle loosely on her "buxom hips".

She smiles a knowing smile and, suddenly
Angry, and with no hint of subtlety,

Tells the satyr in no uncertain terms,
And lovely round Bruce Froemming tones, "You, worm,

Are OUT! Now take those sleazy fingers home!"
The satyr stood and tried to comb

His fingers through his tousled hair,
But snagged them in the twisty curls. There

He stood, hand tangled in his mane, manhood
Horizontally inclined - less refined would call it "wood"

For a jealous stallion would surely weep
At such a sight. Our sylph, afright, did peep—

Well, shriek, would be more accurate—then sighed
 
The sylph Serena rises, rubs her eyes.
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies

Her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair.
His thought is bent on lechery. Beware,

Fair nymph, the smirking, lurking, monstrous churl
Whose sullen visage makes maids want to hurl

Some sharpened objects, let's say hearts, at him
Revealed to the world, moral wrong of sin.

The simple Serena, rise forth your ways
And turn your face to one who obeys,

Who waits for she who lovingly guides
strike missiles—foreign targets far and wide.

It leaves her lonely, sad to say. Her heart,
And her sundry other womanly parts,

Ache for want of one who can complete her.
Who unlocks this puzzle that is sweet, sir,

Consummates fire in an airy nest?
The maid's heart pounds upon her supple breast.

Poor girl, adjunct from her undying love,
She cries "Free him!" to the heavens above.

Alas! The satyr hails from another place—
Far Rockaway, in fact. His New York grace

A Kansas girl cannot appreciate.
Bagels baffle her, she can't help but hate

Long Island tea, the prim, smug wit of Friends,
For which our doleful satyr begs amends

And schemes to sweep her off her feet, like dust.
He's much maligned; he's not all sweat and lust.

He tries the subtle art of pitching woo,
But his slick fingers send the pitch into

Her dugout, where it bounces 'round and slips
To settle loosely on her "buxom hips".

She smiles a knowing smile and, suddenly
Angry, and with no hint of subtlety,

Tells the satyr in no uncertain terms,
And lovely round Bruce Froemming tones, "You, worm,

Are OUT! Now take those sleazy fingers home!"
The satyr stood and tried to comb

His fingers through his tousled hair,
But snagged them in the twisty curls. There

He stood, hand tangled in his mane, manhood
Horizontally inclined - less refined would call it "wood"

For a jealous stallion would surely weep
At such a sight. Our sylph, afright, did peep—

Well, shriek, would be more accurate—then sighed
"I could take that pony for such a steamy ride

But I must play the part of innocence personified
 
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