Sunday, Sunday, Sunday

Yesterday I spent the majority of my waking hours in studying, rather than poem composition. But I do applaud Drudge for posting the pics of the Colombian woman denied compensation for her...er, "secret service." Although her protest was itself priceless - "I'm not a hooker. I'm much more expensive than that."

I studied for a test, and didn’t write
A sonnet yesterday.  But, here behold,
The story is the same – the growing cold
For Nicolas Sarkozy in a fight
For France’s ruling office is a race
Too very close to call.  The voters, all
A bit aghast Sarkozy took the call
For issues on the right, beheld the grace
Of Socialist Hollande.  Alas, the pain
Of massive unemployment is the cause
Of so much disappointment, the applause
For newcomer Hollande for the gain
He promises in jobs.  Await the vote,
For Sunday is in France a day of note.

(I’d make a note as well of any pics
Of Cartagena call-girls.  Any tricks
That turned upon a summit are, indeed,
Much costlier than any had agreed.)