Monthly Archives: February 2016

The Curious Case

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I had actually completely forgotten about this poem (if it can really be called a poem) until I flicked through the notebook of my earliest stuff. I don’t really know where it came from but I thought it was strangely compelling. It also features a truly awful and nonsensical pun.

The Curious Case

How very curious he said
And died
But he wasn’t a cat
So far as I know – which isn’t far
But even a broken pen is write twice a day

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This is quite a curious case

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Tender Lure

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I know I’m stretching the link to Valentine’s day now, and this poem has an extremely tenuous link but just go with me for one more week.

This is not quite a love poem. It’s a poem about love gone wrong. It’s about several men who fall in love with meat. Sadly, it’s how some men seem to view ‘love’ these days anyway.

Tender Lure

My simple brother Jack caressed
A juicy, dripping chicken breast
Its curvature
And tender lure
Resistance: Hard at best

But watch my cousin John appoint
This governor: A gammon joint
A sumptuous feast
Of scrumptious beast
But tell me, what’s the point?

Then lastly, Uncle James has wed
A sirloin steak, cooked rare and red
So soft and sweet
His lawful meat
He’s taken it to bed

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There’s something fishy about my housemates new girlfriend

Feature Walls

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The idea of a feature wall is so stupid. Why would you spend so much time perfecting a wall? Who is even going to look at it? Seriously, feature walls are absurd.

Feature Walls

Feature walls with golden flowers
Back in 1863
Grown men sat engrossed for hours
Before the days of ITV

Feature walls with purple hints
The year is now 2016
And yet this wall of royal tint’s
The finest wall I’ve ever seen

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This is not a feature wall

Shall I Compare Thee To A Slice Of Bread?

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Ok, it’s been a while since Valentine’s day but I’m sticking with the theme for  this month. Last week, I compared and contrasted a lady and a sea monster. This week, I’m comparing and contrasting a lady and a slice of bread. I’m nothing if not a hopeless romantic.

Shall I Compare Thee To A Slice Of Bread?

Shall I compare thee to a slice of bread?
Thou art far more compelling when I’m tired
Bread is embellished with filling or spread
But you need no such thing to be admired

Bread is too soon forgotten in it’s bag
Becomes a moldy mess if it’s left out
But you, I want to show my friends and brag
This is the girl I told you all about!

Bread is made more appealing when it’s toast
But you need never change for me at all
Between the two options, I like you most
Because you won’t turn sticky if you fall

But most of all, and this is not a sin
I’d never, ever put you in the bin

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You’re like pasta. If you sit in my cupboard for too long, I’ll probably forget and replace you.

Gratitude

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I was trying to write a thank you card to someone and it was very hard to find the right words. So I wrote some that rhymed.

Gratitude

I’m so very, very grateful
Gratitude? I’ve got a plateful
I could sing your praise for weeks
But I should really post this soon

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This picture kind of has an inbuilt caption

How Are You Not A Sea Monster?

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It’s Valentine’s day! Different people have different thoughts and feelings about today. Personally, I tend not to pay it any attention at all as it’s all a bit nauseating, but I’m posting this poem as a small nod to the day’s significance.

I was reading The Call Of Cthulhu by H. P. Lovecraft and I couldn’t help but think that it would be horrible to have to spend time with a sea monster (especially one that is actually an ancient, evil, and angry god) and that the highest compliment you could pay someone is that they are completely unlike a sea monster!

How Are You Not A Sea Monster?

How are you not a sea monster?
Let me count the ways
You don’t have slimy tentacles
Just small, warm hands to raise

You don’t have eyes like frying pans
No, yours are deep and blue
You don’t scare sailors half to death
It’s nice to be with you

You don’t protect a dark abyss
You’re generous and sweet
You don’t have pincers, claws, or hooves
Just lovely, little feet

You don’t speak in strange languages
I love to hear your voice
I wouldn’t nuke your resting place
Were I given the choice

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The lesser known (and lesser feared) sink monster

 

Hands For Feet

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Most people have played the ‘would you rather?’ game at some point in their lives. One question I have been asked a few times is ‘Would you rather have hands for feet or feet for hands?’ This got me thinking. What if my hands and feet were swapped? Would I be an outcast? Or would my uniqueness attract people?

Hands For Feet

If I had hands for feet
And my legs were really arms
I would cartwheel down the street
And seduce you with my charms

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My knitting is awful but my gymnastics are on point