425 – Enjambment

Poem number 425

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Enjambment

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This poem runs from line to line, it’s

Called ‘Enjambment’, it’s fine but

If I’m honest I’m not sure I’m

Going to use it anymore, I

Think it thinks it’s rather clever but

Me? I’m not convinced I’ll ever see

It as the ‘proper’ way to

Write a poem come what may and

So I’ll stick to standard rhyme with

Standard couplets every time, I’m

Sorry that you’ve read this mess – I

Better start again, I guess.

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426 – Mrs Merton’s Pets

Poem number 426

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Mrs Merton’s Pets

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The cat sat on the roundabout and looked across the road

Past pheasant flat and badger burst and tyre-treaded toad

Past squirrel squashed and pigeon popped, through petrol laden fog

To the cause of all the carnage, all the corpses and dead dogs

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The magical, the mythical, Old Mrs Merton’s Pets

Where every creature known to man can get a bit of sex

So humdrum on the outside, so sultry from within

The creatures flock from miles around to get a bit of sin

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But sadly there’s this road outside, where traffic always flows

And a stream of horny animals get squished in tidy rows

So now the cat sat patiently, his loins a feline fire

Watching for a chance to dodge the taxis and the tyres

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At last! An opportunity, a momentary pause

A chance to fly across the road on ardour fuelled paws

But alas! He had a blind spot! He didn’t see the truck!

Another wasted crumpled cat, just dying for a…

427 – It’s Time To Bust Some Ghosts

Poem number 427

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It’s Time To Bust Some Ghosts

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You’re charlatans, the college said,

Your academic life’s in shreds

You’ll have to get a job instead

It’s time to bust some ghosts

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There is no Dana only Zuul

Oh Venkman you poor lovestruck fool

You want the girl but Gozer rules

It’s time to bust some ghosts

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When Ray has dark, erotic dreams

Whilst all around the city screams

You’re going to have to cross the streams

It’s time to bust some ghosts

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You somehow thwarted Gozer’s power

(Shame that you destroyed the tower)

It’s time to raise your rate-per-hour

You went and busted ghosts!

428 – Scaffolding

Poem number 428

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Scaffolding

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Scaffolding. It’s everywhere –

The roads, the streets the market square,

Buildings up and buildings down

An ever changing, fluid town

Where metal poles support the sky

Each time I chance to raise my eye.

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Those metal poles of death and birth

So cold and hard, yet full of worth

So full of care, so full of love

They help our buildings rise above

The earth, to dominate the sky

They help them live, they help them die

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Look now – behold! – on Chatham Street

A block of flats, so new and neat

Is rising from the empty ground

With scaffolding wrapped all around

To keep it safe, to help it learn

To stand alone whilst seasons turn

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And look – you see? – that tower there

Now middle-aged and showing wear?

The scaffold lends a helping hand

Whilst workmen point and paint and sand

A willing friend, supportive, sweet

To help it get back on its feet

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Now spare a glance for Western Tower

(Growing smaller by the hour)

It’s old, decrepit, soon to die

And whilst we bid our fond goodbye

The scaffolding, a life-long friend

Supports its weight until the end.

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From birth to death and in between

That scaffolding so strong, so mean

Yet with a steely heart of gold

Looks after buildings, young and old

Supports the sick and cures the lame –

A midwife, shepherd, walking frame.

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So raise your eyes next time you stroll

To get your lunchtime sausage roll,

Raise your eyes, look up, take heed

Of all the scaffolding we need

Strong and silent, full of care

And I for one am glad it’s there.

429 – The Stairs Are There

Poem number 429

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The Stairs Are There

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You use the lift

I don’t know why:

This building’s only three floors high –

The stairs are there, don’t be so lazy

Saving time? Don’t be so crazy –

I can go from ground to third

In half a minute, it’s absurd

To say the lift is faster, but

You’re adamant, you’re in a rut

You catch the lift four times a day

And moan about how much you weigh

The stairs are there, just use your feet

Burn off those calories you eat:

Your waist will thin, your bum will shrink

You’ll get invited out for drinks,

No more overweight and sad

Just fitter, faster, stronger, glad!

All this awaits if you’d admit

The benefits of keeping fit

And start to always use the stairs,

Ignore that lift and all its wares

Ignore its friendy beeping doors –

This building’s only got three floors!

430 – Kentucky Fried Cadaver

Poem number 430

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Kentucky Fried Cadaver

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I wanted chicken nuggets

But I think they sold me short:

I’m not convinced there’s poultry

In the box that I just bought.

That bit just there is tubular

And looks quite like a thumb

While the piece below is long and flat –

I’m sure it is a tongue.

That bit is a battered ear

(The shape can’t be denied)

And the perfect sphere right next to it?

It has to be an eye!

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I’m scared to put my hand in there

And root around the bits

Just in case I find a penis

Or a battered pair of tits –

I think I’ll call the manager

And tell him what I’ve found,

Demand that they re-feed me

Or at least refund my pound,

For I may be being fussy

And a mite ungrateful too

But I wanted chicken nuggets –

Battered body parts won’t do!

431 – Things With Stings

Poem number 331

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Things With Stings

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Things with stings are never good

They tend to hurt your hand

They’re evil and malicious

And I think they should be banned

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They should be tortured, hour by hour

Their stings pulled out with tongs

They should make some reparation

For their stinging, evil wrongs

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Down with things with stings I say

They reek of deadly sin!

Let’s swat them from our wholesome air

And hurl them in the bin!

432 – I Might Kill You Tonight

Poem number 432

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I Might Kill You Tonight

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I might kill you tonight

But then again I might not.

You sleep, so trusting, beside me with no ounce of fright

But who am I?

The gentle, smiling husband, all sweetness and light

Or the murderous stranger?

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I might kill you tonight

As I have killed others, perhaps

My murderous urges have been hidden from sight

By decorum and patience

But perhaps, underneath, your wrong is my right

And I will snap.

But then again, I might not.

We’ll have to wait and see.

433 – The Man With The Suitcase

Poem number 433

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The Man With The Suitcase

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The sun went down at noon today

It hasn’t yet returned

The sun went down too soon today

And all the people burned

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I stood there in my plastic suit

To watch the death of Sin

The cleansing rays that showed their bones

And melted all their skin

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The sun went down at noon today

But hope has been reborn

The sun went down too soon today

And I will be the dawn.

434 – Holy Marshmallow!

Poem number 434

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Holy Marshmallow

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God’s beard is made of marshmallows

Or so I’ve heard it told,

Marshmallows so wonderous

They can cure the common cold

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To touch a Godly Marshmallow

Is tantamount to bliss

And to taste a Godly Marshmallow?

Oh! Audrey Hepburn’s kiss!

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But you can’t touch Godly Marshmallows

It’s simply not allowed,

They have to stay right where they are

Above the Godly Cloud

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For God is quite protective

Of his sugar laden beard

And I’m sure he’d be a little miffed

If bits just disappeared

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Indeed they say that years ago

A lad called Jack Mcghee

Tried to steal a Marshmallow

And take it home for tea

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He climbed up to the Godly Cloud

And found the Godly house

Then crept in through the window

Like a sneaky little mouse

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He softly climbed the Godly stairs

To where the good Lord slept

He took a pair of scissors

But was, sadly, so inept

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With the scissors that he missed the beard

And pricked the Godly chin:

With a roar the Godly Lord awoke

And ripped off all Jack’s skin

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Enraged, he ground up all Jack’s bones

And baked them into bread

Then he burnt the loaf on purpose

Just to make sure he was dead

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So remember, though delicious

That Marsmallow’s not for you

It’s a part of God’s hirsuiteness

It’s not there for folks to chew

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It’s not worth the risk to life and limb

So follow my advice:

Just stick to earthly marshmallow

Which, though it’s not as nice

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As the Godly stuff aboard His chin

Is good for you, I swear

‘Cause the thing with Godly Marshmallows

Is God don’t like to share!