Hour 13: The Piper's Lover

The Piper's Lover

The piper stood upon the hill

and gave the pipes a blow,

while I was sat upon my knees

and played the pipe below.


About this poem:

This is possibly the one poem of the marathon that makes me blush a little. It is one of only a small handful of panic-poems; hastily scribbled, typed, and published as the next checkpoint loomed ever nearer. That said, I think the idea could be worth expanding on.

Form/Style: Not-quite-limerick
Rhythm/Metre: Iambic trimeter/tetrameter
Rhyme/Scheme: ABCB
Themes and Tone:
The tone is silly and lewd. It is meant to be rude and humorous, blatantly sexual and absurd. Maybe I'm the only one who received such detailed visuals from it, but I imagined a Scottish bagpiper in a kilt being... um... accompanied by his significant other on an isolated, heather-strewn hill overlooking a Highland glen. I'm really just impressed that he can still play so well with his partner... playing harmony.

The End

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