Very Bad Archive
Pining for Prunella
Mister Underhill
I know it makes me a fool, but I love her and it's true.
Nor yet a diverting fool, expressing passion unfettered,
preferably in effortless iambic pentameter.
Are my feelings truly such pale shadows of the masters of old?
Perhaps it will be no tragedy when I am gone, my body cold.
It seems all that's great is a sin, but her conspiritorial grin
poisons me, my face ashen, brought low by passion.
For this fickle maid has not a heart that's staid,
but mercurial, restless, easily tired by serenade,
heedless of the entreaties and pleas of those who worship this fairy queen.
For a moment in her arms could I live, yet always seek a moment more,
vexed by each moment parted, apprehensive she thinks me now a bore.
Though oft thwarted in the desire to which I aspire, I am not alone;
for I am but one heart accidentally plucked, and into the river thrown.
Perhaps I should be content with my puppy with her doggy bones,
but ever will I long for the blissful caress of miss Prunella Jones.
Mister Underhill has published 2 more terrible poems since joining on 30/11/99. Read more of Mister's terrible poetry at the anthology. Here are three of Mister's latest works: