I didn’t say the thing you thought
I said. You misinterpreted
my words with “should”s and “ought”s.
No WAIT. We’ve gone to something else
instead of what it was. I’m still
a little angry. What she tells
me isn’t that. You’ve made me ill
with this. I’m going to thump you in
a minute. Just a minute. Let
me say what I’ve been trying to
say from the start. It was something
vital. Something helpful for us.
Tags: pome, poem, poetry, spatchcock, radcliffe, artbizness
I tried to write a poem this afternoon whilst shopping in Knightsbridge for my relatives.
The result is pretty dreadful, but hey – It’s Christmas. Even poets can’t be bothered sometimes. Now I’m off for a mince pie.
Have a good one everyone, and thanks for reading.
I’m walking through the nicer part of town
away from home and all my normal cares.
The streets are not too full with handsome people
I take it in, and no-one minds my stares
For once I am happy
The shop assistant doesn’t want to work
on Christmas Eve (he drew the shortest straw)
But doesn’t mind me asking simple questions
A Happy Christmas smile is on his jaw
For once I am happy.
A simple present bought with little fuss
brings all my shopping to an end.
Returning home to make my wife her dinner.
Next year I do the whole shebang again.
For once I am happy.
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