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Like Lovelace and Babbage
But without the mad skills
Breakfasting on cabbage
And shabbage, and krill

Like schooners a-racing
Sans the white sails
Like Ada a-lacing
Her pacing emails

Like dry roasted peanuts
Salted with wings
We're fly-swatting flea butts
Into teacups and things
:iconsaturninesweetness:

Author's Comments

Disclaimer: Shabbage is not, in fact, a word. At least not in the King's English. Perhaps in Cockney English. Everything is fair game to them.

Comments


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:icongetyourgrip:
ahaha...your nonsense poems are
beginning to make me chuckle!

--
Married to the pen,
and we're both having an affair
with the page.
:iconsaturninesweetness:
Huzzah!
They are so fun to write. You should try it sometime. :D

--
~ In saturnine, sweetness, Horatio Fin
:icongetyourgrip:
nahh, i did those when i started off,
some of the worst poems i've ever written.
you're good at them, so i'll leave them to
the master.

--
Married to the pen,
and we're both having an affair
with the page.
:iconsaturninesweetness:
Aww haha. Well thank you.

Generally, the start-off poems tend to be terrible.
I read my old stuff and cringe often times.

--
~ In saturnine, sweetness, Horatio Fin
:iconda-blue-monkey:
Great poem, I love things that make no sense.

--
1+1=2
1+1=10
1+1=11
1+1=1
It depends on how you look at it.
:iconsaturninesweetness:
Fantastic!
So do I.

--
~ In saturnine, sweetness, Horatio Fin

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July 4
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