The Spoonbill Generator

The Blanched Almonds of Hoboken

The pool beneath the breakfast hall       [Lou Beck]

Where we were wont to meet       [Chevalier]

Is gone, yet still in dreams I swim       [F]

As flippers on your feet       [Kansas Sam]

Or, sometimes, as your bathing trunks       [Tall Whoopie]

Whose fit is snugly taut       [Chevalier]

I nestle in your duffel-bag       [SN]

And hope I won't get caught       [F]

The net that snares the butterfly       [SN]

The trap that snares the rabbit       [F]

Cannot compare with your allure       [Chevalier]

Obsession is a habit       [F]

Your scent is trapped within my sleeve       [Barrymores Ghost]

Your voice echoes in my head       [Anon.]

I dream that I am with you still       [Chevalier]

So still beneath your bed       [Cocoa Channel]

Or, perhaps, like your flippy-flops       [Barrymore's Ghost]

Oft jammed between your toes       [asdf]

Unwary, like Elastoplast       [loaf]

Stuck right across your nose       [Chevalier]

I linger in the ether       [ether]

Somewhat like ectoplasm       [F]

A seething mass of insecure       [Chevalier]

I languish in a spasm       [Barrymore's Ghost]

Contributors: Lou Beck, Chevalier, F, Kansas Sam, Tall Whoopie, SN, Barrymore's Ghost, Anon., Cocoa Channel, asdf, loaf, ether.
Poem finished: 8th September 2006 by F.