A plonk got away
From a piano one day,
And drifted with evil intent
Of finding, for play.
And for leading astray.
A plink young and quite in-no-cent.


He found a fair plink
And he gave her a wink,
Saying, ‘Come and make music with me!’
She said, ‘Do you think
That we really should link?’
His chord stood out rapturously.


He took off her trill,
And it gave her a thrill
As he stuck lower register in;
They played with a will
To the climax, until
The end of the score, marked as ‘Fin’. 

But now they have found
Little notes all abound.
For her melody started to swell;
A chorus of sound
Has unwound all around –

Their tinkles are all doing well.


© August 2010 Colonialist (Letterdash/WordPress)

About colonialist

Active septic geranium who plays with words writing fantasy novels and professionally editing, with notes writing classical music, and with riding a mountain bike, horses and dinghies. Recently Indie Publishing has been added to this list.
This entry was posted in Colonialist, verse, writing, music composition, fantasy, Africa, journal., Nonsense verse, Really Awful Rhyme, Writing and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.


  1. Gobetween says:

    Scary what an escaped plonk can get up to 🙂


  2. adeeyoyo says:

    Bwahaha, lovely Col. What a gorgeous play on words – you have lifted me up today!


  3. I do love a good romance with a happy ending.


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