Breastmilk and poetry

Stephan likes his poems
Without the aid of a pump
But I ask you, my friend
What do you do with the lumps??

Finnegan poops in mustardy stanzas
Always in messy threes
When I asked him about line breaks
He pooped upon my knees

Meghan burps her ABC’s
And giggles when she’s done
Then she sings in syllables
Thick with witty pun

Logan whines in rhythm
As he walks in time
Of every emotional melody
And the odd poetic rhyme

Ha! Great stuff!

And what praytell do you do, Shannon?

She's always crowding the dooryard with those damn lilacs!

Brent

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Monkeys: There are no monkeys here. If you're looking for monkeys, go away. Well, actually there are monkeys, but they're of the hairless variety that writes poetry and such. If that's not what you're looking for move along.