Your Poetry Dot Com - No More Pie

Array ( [sid] => 184158 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => No More Pie [time] => 2017-05-12 11:25:04 [hometext] => [bodytext] => I met a girl who delivered the news
While she sipped on a small bottle of booze
When I asked her why
She started to cry, then began to sing the blues
I can/'/t remember if I cried
The day I heard the white robed king
Had said goodbye
Standing in the old Kentucky rain
I often ponder who was to blame
Chandra wasn/'/t found at the levee
But poor old Gary
Was hung out to dry
While PTL meant
Pass The Loot
A joker and a jester in a pants suit
Once crowned king and queen
Started a foundation
And took off with the loot
Roberta softly sang me a tune
While she passed the pie
Sometime near noon
Neither of us had a clue
The music we once knew
Had died
Later she would ask if I believed in God
The spirits above
Stars in the sky
I asked her why
She gave me some flack, got mad and said goodbye
I drove down to the savings and loan
To gather the money I hoarded years before
But the man there wouldn/'/t pay
He said make it brief and be on your way
Come gather your money some other day
The sun that day was bright and yellow
My mood was gray
Feeling none too mellow
I called it a day
Later I went on my way
As I sit here today
I have nothing more to say [comments] => 4 [counter] => 207 [topic] => 64 [informant] => jamesstockdale [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => ambiguous ) Your Poetry Dot Com - No More Pie

No More Pie
Date: Friday, 12th May 2017 @ 11:25:04 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: jamesstockdale

I met a girl who delivered the news
While she sipped on a small bottle of booze
When I asked her why
She started to cry, then began to sing the blues
I can/'/t remember if I cried
The day I heard the white robed king
Had said goodbye
Standing in the old Kentucky rain
I often ponder who was to blame
Chandra wasn/'/t found at the levee
But poor old Gary
Was hung out to dry
While PTL meant
Pass The Loot
A joker and a jester in a pants suit
Once crowned king and queen
Started a foundation
And took off with the loot
Roberta softly sang me a tune
While she passed the pie
Sometime near noon
Neither of us had a clue
The music we once knew
Had died
Later she would ask if I believed in God
The spirits above
Stars in the sky
I asked her why
She gave me some flack, got mad and said goodbye
I drove down to the savings and loan
To gather the money I hoarded years before
But the man there wouldn/'/t pay
He said make it brief and be on your way
Come gather your money some other day
The sun that day was bright and yellow
My mood was gray
Feeling none too mellow
I called it a day
Later I went on my way
As I sit here today
I have nothing more to say

This poem is Copyright © jamesstockdale

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