To medicine immune
I'd make your atoms into mine
And your DNA subsume.
I cough and sneeze and splutter
And spray my bugs on you
Which makes you think, "What utter
plain ignorance.' It's true.
I contemplate the garden
I do it from my chair
I look at all the rampant weeds
And frankly, I don't care
I've just been down to Waitrose
Where the shelves are bare
But lemongrass and bamboo shoots
Are non-essential fare
I just couldn't live without kale
Sorry, the 'without' puts it into limerick metre. I'll have another go.
I've got to have my kale leaves
Ground into bright green soup
Then seasoned lightly, not too much,
Sounds disgusting gloop
Priceless. But it's not signed "By Simons Mith, aged 7 1/4"?
Nah, my handwriting's not that neat now. It does belatedly occur to me that to protect against future 404s I should have put the poem in as alt text.
I wish I were a drawing
Sketched out with a 6B
My fine sfumato showing
My outline, fuzzily.
[pen] Lovely ending. Doffs hat and bows.
A muse that's soft and furry
But lightning fast of paw
Always ends up blurry
Crunched by a feline's jaw.
I wish I were a Spring day
However unpredictable
In the sunshine, I would play.
Till rain uncontradictable.
I wish I were a foggy morn
Silent, cold and still
Dead bodies strewn o'er meadow's dawn
It's just the birds that kill.
I test my eyes by driving
In thickest fog at night;
I haven't had a pile-up yet
Hop in! Do you think I might?
I thought I saw a pterosaur
A-flapping up to me Tune: Diadem
But it's just a seagull
As you can plainly see. oblig.
I've spotted spots before my eyes
Like aerated turds they're floaters
Am I looking at a leopard?
Or a group of stoner voters?
I wish I were a meteor
A-streaking down from space
I'd spread fire over all the Earth
And wipe t'smile off your face.
I wish a were a fountan pen
My nickname being "Her Nibs"
I'd leave blobs of ink o'er the place
To show that I'd first dibs.
I wish I were a fountain, pen
Spraying like a dirty tom
I'd dirty all your clothing, then
Put my cap back on
I'm glad I'm not a rabbit
'Cos I'd hate my floppy ears
To dangle in the gravy
and be brown for years
My soup has got a hare in
Call the waiter, please!
It squawks like Orla Guerin
And has a bunch of fleas!