October 2, 2012

 

 

At the forefront of ones memory

are times of sheer exhilaration and

times of harrowing pain.

The flotsum and jetsum in the middle,

like a sponge, soaks up the mundane.

 

 

 

 

 

Don’t you just hate imperfection

An unfinished job lingering on.

A niggling fault that comes to light,

long after the workmen have gone.

 

Don’t you just hate imbalance

revealed by a spirit level out of line.

To other people it looks precise,

but to you, it’s anything but fine.

 

 

 

He took her to the Elephant Park,

where they saw piles of fresh steaming dung.

But after hours not sighting an animal,

an unnerving feeling, in the atmosphere, hung!

 

 

 

What one considers is ingenious,

to others, may seem a load of tripe.

What one chooses to eat on the tart side,

others may prefer to taste, when ripe.

 

 

October 1, 2012

 

 

I took a peek into the ‘can’ today,

and the worms were still

there wiggling.

I took a peek into the cupboard too,

and the skeletons were still there

jiggling.

 

 

 

 

 

I love to cuddle up to your squashy bits

on a cold and wintry night.

True, a hot water bottle holds less

complications, but has lost it’s heat by

morning light.

 

 

 

 

Confounded pigeons

with no toilet manners,

delivering their deposits

at will.

Bold as brass, they sit and squirt

upon the window sill!

 

 

 

 

Her misconstrued sense of loyalty

and his persuasive powers  became

a lethal mix.

The root of the problem needed analysis

and a miracle, paradoxical fix.

 

 

 

 

Let nature be free to survive at will

No good can become of any mass kill

Who decides when there should be a cull?

Who’s hardened heart, can the trigger pull?

 

 

 

 

He held the ticket of authenticity.

He said it was the real McCoy.

But in fact there were bloody

millions of them.

Being ripped off, short lived,

was his joy.

 

 

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