Stroke after deafening stroke,
nails dancing to the lead of a hammer.
The same insane tune of the words of that bloke,
not appreciating, flat and certainly not enamour.
Dust flying into the air, lifting ash-choo
ash-choo from poor Ms. Nosey.
Not a pretty picture painting like a posy,
just like your words,boo-boo.
Boards, windows, walls, roof-all shattered,
just like your promises – stink like faecal, it mattered
not that your pleas rain like sand
because it is just litter and out of hand.
Poetry form: Quatrain (poem of four line verse)
It has a specific rhyming scheme: abab, abba, aabb