Tuesday, 30 December 2014

I could be a poet

Hello and seasons greetings to you - I hope this finds you with a happy heart and in rude health.

I'm conscious I've been light on posting this year which is in part due to an irresistible urge to write poetry.  It's something that I've done for a very long time and if you've been to my Facebook page recently, you will have seen (and heard) quite a number of them.  Rather than keep them in just the one place, I thought I'd share them here too - they'll have normal titles from here on in but because I'm introducing this one, I get to use a line from one of my favourite Ian Dury songs :) 


At Christmas
Enter my house at your peril
The rooms are like bomb-sites
The children are feral

New guests arrive
As the last are departing
Our brains in a funk
And everyone's farting

The days are a haze
We slump and we list
We're fed up of Twister
And being half-pissed

Last week we were lively
Fresh-faced and perky
Now our skin's gone to pot
And our insides are turkey

The mere thought of port
Makes me want to heave
I shan't touch a drop
At least 'til New Year's Eve

Soundtrack: What a Waste - Ian Dury and the Blockheads

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