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quickly superseded by laughter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

 

Rate this poetry.

Copyright is reserved by the author. Please do not reproduce any part of this article without consent.