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