Not exactly a bedroom but none the less
on the pavement in front of a shop
someone had made up their bed.
Although it was only a sleeping bag,
it was tastefully patterned, quite clean
and clearly most carefully spread.
Its position was expertly chosen,
tucked below the shop front overhang
where people weren't likely to tread
and the rain wouldn't reach from the nearby street
while the glass might just radiate heat -
a bedroom for someone well bred.
The tenant was not yet in residence
but, as if on a bedside cabinet,
an up-market coffee cup said
"I'm certainly down but I'm not yet out.
If you give me a chance, I'll rise again.
Be thankful it's not you instead."
Which is poems of modern ideas in traditional poetry forms, rhyming poems and rhythmic poems plus some less proper items, jokes, epigrams, etc.
Saturday, 11 October 2014
An Olympic Diet ?
The menu that's on offer is what's unsold
after the use-by date and consequently
dishes that once were hot have now gone cold
and what before was spicy now seems dicey.
Yet I see those over there have younger fare
with leaner meat, smooth skin and gleaming hair
so why should I settle for silver when there's gold?
Because, you silly sod, you're much too old.
after the use-by date and consequently
dishes that once were hot have now gone cold
and what before was spicy now seems dicey.
Yet I see those over there have younger fare
with leaner meat, smooth skin and gleaming hair
so why should I settle for silver when there's gold?
Because, you silly sod, you're much too old.
Not dead but not moving except the chest swell;
not dead but not seeing with white marble eyes;
not dead but not hearing the news that we tell
with no independence from now till she dies.
This is the lady was brought up too well
to complain that her eyesight was failing
so now she inhabits her own little hell
but still with no ranting or railing.
Glaucoma took one eye and gave her a hint
that she'd better look after the other
but reading her book she continued to squint,
determined to not be a bother.
So now she is blind and can't read anymore;
she's no use for diary planners,
can't live for the crossword as she did before -
a martyr to middle class manners.
not dead but not seeing with white marble eyes;
not dead but not hearing the news that we tell
with no independence from now till she dies.
This is the lady was brought up too well
to complain that her eyesight was failing
so now she inhabits her own little hell
but still with no ranting or railing.
Glaucoma took one eye and gave her a hint
that she'd better look after the other
but reading her book she continued to squint,
determined to not be a bother.
So now she is blind and can't read anymore;
she's no use for diary planners,
can't live for the crossword as she did before -
a martyr to middle class manners.
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