There now lives a man longing for Great Russia
Whom everyone everywhere knows is such a
Dickhead. He hides in his pants like Rasputin
But he bears no magic – he’s Putin
And now greatness is running from Russia.
About the Creator
Tina Sorenson
I once wrote a lot of fiction. But as life happened, writing didn't. I know this, though: stories of my youth are what moved me, grew me, made me. Now, for my girls (and anyone else), I want my stories to move them. So: I must write.
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His Haibun
He does not like poetry; I write it anyway and do not tell him. It's true his face is not a poet's face. It is round and open, youthful; too apt to be compared to the sun. His nose is neat. It is impossible to imagine him smoking a cigarette, terse, full of cheekbones and tension. His warmth burns my fingertips. I am here for his fascinating body, the haphazard freckles I touch one by one; he is here for my eyes, just my eyes. A sunbeam sneaks through the curtains and pierces us both, sizzling the spices of his skin. I inhale and wrap myself in him. He kisses my eyes.
By TheSpinstress6 days ago in Poets
Comments (2)
Lol, this was a good one!
True Putin is a mad man!