Poems
by Mary
Cresswell
The Poetasting
Glasses clean
eyes shut
labels hidden...
It all envelops us:
a touch of imagery
a gentle hint of
rhyme
an underlying note of
irony
quickly superseded by laughter
(a touch overdone) –
At the end of the day
a definite aftertaste
redolent of terza rima
and
the tiniest
whiff of
Wordsworth.
Traffic Jam
(after Robert Frost)
The traffic jam is long and slow
our car has nowhere else to go
the car in front has squabbling kids
and that is all you need to know.
Alas, I have no useful meds
to cool my travel-ridden head
to help my spirit stay serene
until I get home to my bed.
Home is yet a far-off scene –
bright with welcome, crisp and clean
with untold space surrounding me
and loads of quiet in between
But here I crawl from A to B
in motorised eternity
and miles to go before I pee
and miles to go before I pee.
Be Careful What You Wish For
Why did the chicken cross the road?
to get to the other side...
For years and years it tried
and all the effort showed
Bloody but unbowed
the chicken kept its pride
most definitely crossed the road
and aimed for the other side
The pundits howled, “I’ll be blowed”
applause rolled in like a tide
but a clutch of old hens sighed
dreading what it all forbode:
When the chicken crossed the road
it fell off the other side
