Verses of Woe
Feb 16, 2008
To the great Medical Poet, Dr Bob -
My days and nights are living hell Either Im infected or am a worried-well. My happiness and rest have all been robbed And so I must call on dear Doctor Bob Who wastes a hefty portion of his precious time By answering us fools who groan and whine With what-ifs and what are the chances? After a silly hand-job or two lap-dances. This I must declare is not my aim And only a bit of your time will I seek to claim, So, quick I will be, and short and terse And frame my clever question in cleverer verse:
The occasion of my plight is not too far, It occurred two weeks past in a seedy bar Where sweet music poured and gold beer flowed And the exotic hostesses were fully endowed. I was told by some who there had been Not to venture into that bar of sin For it was thought, the ladies there Were apt to strip your senses bare. But being a fool, I found their every word As startlingly silly as they were absurd, So into that sweet snare I gaily swayed Blind to the fear that would fill my head.
I took my place and had a beer And then so suddenly did this girl appear. Precious time she did not waste And our tongues were locked in wet embrace. I kissed her deep and would not stop Until she cunningly removed her top, And there, in full display for me Hung the ripest pair of fruits I did ever see. And so to fulfill my carnal quests I hungrily sucked on those luscious breasts Till the last calls came and I rose to go And I suddenly recalled those words before.
But now I must bring my verses to sleep And so my promises to you I will keep. I anxiously seek to know the risk Of my partaking in that carnal feast, And should I in time submit to tests, After this night of tongue and breasts?
Thank you Dr Bob,
Sincerely, The Bard of Sorrow
Response from Dr. Frascino
Hi Bard of Sorrow,
Well I must say you get 10 extra "cool points" for creativity. Your rhyming question is certainly much more sophisticated than the last one I got that started: "There was a young lady from Nantucket." (You can guess the final rhyme on that limerick.)
I've addressed concerns similar to yours many times in this forum over the years. You can check out those detailed responses in the archives.
For now, Worried Rhymer, suffice it to say . . .
neither tonsil hockey nor nipple noshing is an HIV risk, OK?
(that sort of rhymes) Dr. Bob
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