Hammial
Type
Poetry

Cautionary tales

Is this page scribble-ready?
Possibly, but how the word?
That match, I watched it sitting on my hands.
So sad how they stumbled, were trampled.

Meanwhile Putti pull aside the curtains & there:
the Poet presented to the people! Fifty plus
for that turpitude, fifty more if scant can clad!
Can you believe that harem’s ripple?

If you’re looking for Jesus you’d best start
with Jumper’s Coke & listen carefully to Mutt’s palaver.
If you want you can have my scare.
For size there’s a pinch.

We could spend the day rowing.
I’d rather count pebbles, sort them as to colour & shape.
My days of riding shotgun for nannies are over.
Who should we say Hello to? Who Goodbye?

Don’t late please.
There’s a huge lock on this forest.
We’ll need at least an hour to pick it.
The gamekeeper arrives at eight. He’s never late.

Sung out of wedlock: I’ll go for that.
Prayed over by proper citizens, that too.
Of course I’d like to have a kingdom to call
my very own. What would you call it? Rogue-on-Rye.

Three guesses who left the chamber pot (full)
on the stove – Girl Guides to the rescue.
The apparatus of matriculation is too arduous
for my taste (haste makes waste).

Not only did Cinderella leave us her slipper
she left instructions of what not to do with it:
(1) don’t ejaculate into it. (2) don’t try to imagine
what it’s like to pussy-foot.

Those dancing pimps how many were there, six
or seven? Seven. What’s-his-name – Marat – that guy
who invented the bathtub, he forgot
to cross the t in tub.

Scribble ready? Yes, but how the word?
As to prayer, crawling? Curtains aside
by Putti? Pulpit-speak, a message for the people?
Come a cropper he’ll be torn apart.

 

 

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Philip Hammial has had twenty-eight poetry collections published.

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