Tin
Snow is honest
It does what it
Says on the tin
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Category: writing
October 6, 2013
Snack Attack
There was a bulimic called Shirley,
Who lived in a folly in Purley,
Crept down late one night
Without a hall light
And got mugged by
a large Curly Wurly
October 6, 2013
Bards & Beards
A meticulous poet is Motion
Looked deeply at cheap suntan lotion
He rubbed it all in
O’erlooking his chin
Now shaving is fraught with emotion
October 6, 2013
Quelle Fromage
Paperboy in a shower
Did not take too long
Turning to Papier Mache
October 5, 2013
POV
Had a jar with Dora Maar
thought
She’s not like how she’s painted
A two-faced bitch’s a trifle rich
Still,
Her reputation’s tainted
October 5, 2013
Garrison
Memory of joy
Forever
Is strangely true
We squint to see it
In the mind’s eye
It is there
Blurred, muffled,
Gore-Tex blue
October 5, 2013
Still Life with missing Chickens
Doodled oil: frame, drape, and garden.
Lavender green, anaemic blue, grey,
redbrick, bush green, tree green,
jumbled muck brown metal,
shocked gasping yellow bursts.
Yeats and Keats. The chickens!
Missed the Sussex white dabs.
In the coop, having a lie in.
weekend after all. Sun still life.
Cock-a-doodle-do. Get the picture?
October 4, 2013
Gadzooks!
Look out!
An ill wind
Coughs: spits out
Lilac phlegm.
Now smell
sweet almond waft
angry onions:
this garden is
full of livid
sad mad
bramble.
Ghoulish dead potato
crazed leek
rise up to
taste
doomed decay
reeking havoc
hear
the cluck as
amok chickens
weep behind trembling
toffee wrappers
See
Behind that mauve shed
a terrible lettuce
is born.
October 4, 2013
UNO
Ctuous der Dog:
Known, ermined
Happy said:
‘Stick done well.’
October 3, 2013
Snivelling Little Creep
Waiting on pork sausage
We were forced to skelt
willy-nilly
for mute sanctuary from
tampons confounded take on fern hill.
Tea was derationed today in fifty two.
Five eggs variously
boiled Mohr’s scale by Nanny Charperson.
Is it safe?
Can we come out?
Chai or Cha, your High Chairness?
We emerge and return
Waiting for pork sausage
Green and dying in our chains
Ding-a-Ling.
Grimbeau 