Poetry Corner

2015-04-05 08.30.50The Noisy Dog

for CFB

The noisy dog, enraged, encaged.
Baleful beast, prowling, growling.
Cloistered canine, collared, turbulent.
Howling hound, tethered, pothered.

Door opens, relief revealed.
Doleful, soulful, whimpering, simpering.
Care, concern, remorse, recourse,
To biscuits, treats, strokes and sweets.

Door closes, relief retreats.


The Grey Chair

for Polly

The Grey ChairBlue chair, new chair, there’s another true chair.
Soft chair, oft there, friendly and familiar.
New lass, in the class, teacher says, “Sit over there.”
MY place, long face, mutter firmly, “It’s not fair.”

Stop short, I’m caught, only one place in the room.
Corner seat, leaden feet, trudging slowly to my doom.
New girl, cheeky twirl, “This is MY place, I presume.”
Laughter shorn, all forlorn, happiness is turned to gloom.

Grey chair, stray chair, shouldn’t really be there.
Hard chair, fabric bare, in a state of disrepair.
Leaking, creaking, teacher gives an angry stare.
Soulful, doleful, sucking joy from out the air.

Lesson drags, new girl brags, favourite subject turned to dust.
Work stalls, effort falls, teacher chivvies, says I must.
Prep late, parents grate, call my tutor, much discussed.
Detention set, worst day yet, everything is so unjust.

New day, SHE’S away, back to MY place, quickly there.
Sheer relief, beyond belief, blue and grey cannot compare.
Comfy seat, new and neat, teacher says my work is fair.
Lurking still, evil chill, in the corner, grey, grey chair.

Doctor Who and the Glutens

for Clare

The Glutens are coming, the Glutens are coming,
They’re hiding so cunningly there in that bread.
The Glutens are coming, the Glutens are coming,
They’ll steal all your energy, send you to bed.

Da-da-da-dumming, da-da-da-dumming,
The music is rising, the tune cries woo-woo,
Da-da-da-dumming, da-da-da-dumming,
Here comes our hero, the brave Dr Who.

The pretty assistant falls prey to their wiles,
Ingests them and hosts them all there in her gut.
The doctor trails frantic through Tardis’ files,
As bloating engrosses, like Jabba the Hutt.

A random intruder gives useless advice
And says the condition is all in her head.
We know that he’s wrong and will die in a trice,
Like no-names on Star Trek if they’re wearing red.

The protein reactions are getting much worse.
The doctor cries, “Stupid! I’ve not used my brain,
Your coeliac symptoms will start to reverse,
The moment you stop eating foods made from grain.”

Da-da-da-dumming, da-da-da-dumming,
The Tardis is leaving and fading, er-whoosh.
Da-da-da-dumming, da-da-da-dumming,
The music is fading and ending, er-shush.

The Glutens are coming, the Glutens are coming,
But now you are ready, precautions to take.
The Glutens are coming, the Glutens are coming,
A lifelong observance, it’s no piece of cake.

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