Trying out a pantoum, a new form of poetry to me. Trying it is.

(The form is- the second and fourth lines of a four lines per verse poem become the first and third lines of the second stanza, etc: Yeah, weird and repetitive, but try to bear with me; or just read it and weep. The prompt for this Chel Owens Terrible Poetry Competition effort was ’embarrassment.’)

Bust A Move.

After I'd turned to her for just one dance
I was left gasping, so long and red of face,
Away she swept after high-arched glance
With effortless entitled aristocratic grace.

I was left gasping, so long and red of face,
Sorrowfully, I watched her pertly depart 
With effortless entitled aristocratic grace,
Stilettos driving deep into my bitter heart.

Sorrowfully I watched her pertly depart-
She'd put me back in my place, and class,
Stilettos driving deep into my bitter heart
When she slipped and fell flat on her ass!

She'd put me back in my place and class
But as the titters began to grow apace
When she slipped and fell flat on her ass
I was left gasping, so long, and red of face.

 

(This pantoum has proved to be a proper pain in the ass for her, our heroine, to experience and me to write. Something both of us would rather not repeat.)

©Obbverse.