Brunhilde Bloggs no fixed address. <br />Was very fond of cheap red wine. <br />Somewhat disordered in her dress. <br />Her voice a grating nasal whine. <br /> <br />She begs for cash from passersby. <br />Her manner almost threatening. <br />Her raging thirst to satisfy <br /> at each refusal glowering. <br /> <br /> A policeman tells her “move along” <br /> and she reacts aggressively <br />Insists she has done nothing wrong. <br /> But he has little sympathy <br /> <br />He has no choice but to arrest <br /> and take her into custody. <br /> She has become a public pest. <br /> Which no one is allowed to be <br /> <br />Brunhilde Bloggs has an address <br />at least for several months to come. <br />She got what she deserved no less <br /> but she was luckier than some. <br /> <br />Who passed out cold and froze to death <br />in some back alley out of sight. <br />A victim to cold winters breath <br /> in drunken dreams of sheer delight. <br /> <br />11-Sep-08 <br /> <br />http: // blog.my space.com/poeticpiers<br /><br />ivor or ivor.e hogg<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-guest-of-her-majesty-for-friend-thad/
