I'm sure you'll smile and blow me off
with some astute remark.
This message is directed at
my dumb co-worker Clark.
You're Mr. Charming acting coy,
a spectacle, it's true.
You think we're all just ignorant,
but I am on to you.
It's odd how you're a journalist
but where's the crap you write?
I never see the pics you take
or any work in sight.
A scoop comes up and, poof, you're gone
though camera crews await.
You give us all some lame excuse
and say you got there late.
Then Superman, he saves the day,
when hope looks bleak and grim.
You show us all the aftermath
yet not one pic of him.
Is it just me or is that weird,
when havoc's all around,
and chaos plagues Metropolis,
you're nowhere to be found?
I need no pictures side by side,
so please let me advise.
It seems you lack intelligence
when judged by your disguise.
I'd think the morons working here
would have the brains to see
that glasses can't so simply hide
your true identity.
But people have the smarts of mold
and hamsters turn the wheel.
But all I want's exclusive rights...
A book, 'The Man of Steel.'
I'm Lois Lane, so treat me right
for I'm the one who knows.
And don't you dare use x-ray eyes
to see me through my clothes.
And one last thing that needs addressed,
that I insist you buy.
I saw you snatch it from the fridge,
replace my ham on rye.
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| Writing Prompt |
Write a rhyming poem about a message you'd like to send. |
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