He's Not Fond of Rice

She dresses nice and speaks with falsities.
But she's never without spring water.
She wants to give impressions like she's queen of deities.
But true leaders listening in are getting bored(er) .
She shops without stopping for those TV ops.
In the finest silk tailored suits.
And her hair doesn't move' cause it's glued!

He's not found of Rice.
Me neither.
It gets gummy on the plate when it's thickened.
Not too many cook it right.
And overnight it has lost many their appetites.
Some might like their Rice,
But I dislike it when it sickens.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!