Poems

( when outnumbered )

 

there's an otter in me kitchen

sploshing in the sink

whilst i try to write a poem

concentration's on the blink


there's a lion in me living room

asleep on the settee

i want to watch the wright stuff

but i best leave it be


there's a camel in me bathroom

a camel? - oh my gosh

several shrews on the stairs

in the bog; an arctic fox


& there's a gnu in me bedroom

so what else can i do?

seeing as this house belongs to them now

i'll be the first ever man

to escape from the zoo

...

 

the art of almost ( sort of )

 

the breeze picked up

& sucked

the final piece of the jigsaw

from the grip of my finger things

then out

the open window


'that's cromwell's last wart'

i huffed

so i chased said piece of jigsaw

down the lane then o'er them dales

for centuries

to no avail


( the end )

...












( author nodes )

yes, breezes can suck too

in fact

every time a breeze blows somewhere

it sucks somewhere else

that's equilibrium & day 1 in wind school


cheers

...

 

bring back medieval keys ( ! )

in medieval times

well the keys were so much bigger

 plus the locks were far larger than today

yet the people were smaller

yes we've grown taller

& the keys & locks have gone the other way


this poem you may say

is devoid of a point

like a fly once plucked of its wings

but at this going rate

keys will soon be subatomic

then we'll never ever find the fucking things

...