An Improper Sonnet
This is a sonnet that doesn't say please,
A verse that puts dirty feet on the chair,
It's not a poem that's willing to share,
And never covers its nose for a sneeze.
This crosses its 'i's and dots all its 't's,
Although it's Miltonic, why should it care?
It has no thought of others, or playing fair,
Grasps any chance of indulging in sleaze.
Don't look away long; it'll nick your car,
It delights in burps, and really loud farts,
Whenever it speaks, its language is crude,
Tells stories about where it got that scar,
It's always in bars with hoodlums and tarts,
Yet, on its arm, "I love mum" is tattooed.
Gill Smith - July 2004
An Improper Sonnet won second prize in the Slough Writers Group humorous verse competition. This is a slightly edited version, thanks to the judge's feedback.