Miss Shlabee stormed <br />the weather in her castle <br />a grandloquent capricious matter <br />with brigs in turrets and <br />meandering potluck haste <br /> <br />each tile shone with fear <br />at the look of lubricious <br />sponge but alas it shone which <br />sufficed the grand hag's wishes <br />for serendipity- in hungry famine <br /> <br />Miss Shlabee nibbled at <br />her castle tiles -maybe, so her <br />calculation, her teeth will rasp off <br />bit of hardness, gold and shine <br />food was organic matter to Miss <br /> <br />Shlabee which she despised <br />but prided herself of being the <br />first human robot on the rocky <br />moon earth- lick the spurious metal <br />off shiny surfaces was her adage- <br /> <br /> for nuptials she wore a coating <br />of pure gold warm in cold <br />and icy in heat- festive luxury <br />she sweated with all her pores- <br />salty and chocolate sweet<br /><br />Michael Witkowski<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/miss-shlabee-s-pores/
