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Poetry |
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Chip Shop Woman
By Lee Cassanell
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On Fridays and Mondays
And some times on Sundays
I enter your chamber of grease,
The waft of your Haddock
Lures me from my paddock
To lands of chip butties and cheese.
I stand with the monkeys
Stood knocking back scrumpy
With beard full of baccy and porridge,
They leer at your apron
And fondle their bacon
As you flour and batter their sausage.
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My fetish is fishy
By the look of you're lippy
You put make up on with a trowel,
You're sweaty and salty
You can't make a balti
And all your fried chicken is foul.
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I hear you've got hobbies
Getting oily with squaddies
Who admire your fondness for sod,
They say that you're kinky
Why go out for a chinkie
When you're up to your armpits in cod.
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You do not serve pastries
But I think you're tasty
Your patties are bulbous, and shapely,
I dream of you kittles
With mouth full of fritters
And baps smeared with curry, and gravy.
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My addictions consuming
But I here that you're moving
To the Indian just round the block,
I can't say I'm pleased
For they do not serve peas
And you can't fry a fish in a wok.
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I will miss your flush face
And the smell of this plaice
That will linger for days on my clothes,
But enough of this ballad,
Now I'm switching to salad,
So it's farewell my sweet chip shop rose..
Copyright ©2004 Lee Cassanell
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Poetry
- Rosedale Chimney Hill By
Maurice Fairfield.
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Long ago in a different time
The World seemed bright and shiny new.
My chin still wore downy fuzz,
My eyes saw clearly, straight and true.
Though money was scarce I had my share
Of strengths and skills, and loads to bear
Could never crush inside my heart,
The love of life abiding there.
Read more...
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Poetry - Void By Darren Sant
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"Where am I?"
Blackness. The absence of sound and light.
A non-entity floating in an inky void.
"Is anybody out there?"
Silence. Complete and utter nothingness.
Emptiness vast and lonely.
"Please answer me."
Read more...
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Poetry - When You're Ready and Resolve By Steve Rudd
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We made a pact
At the last filling station
Interstate M62..
I was so proud of you
You'd never normally say boo..
Who drove you to rebel?
Read more...
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Poetry - Demons by Shelly D.
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She wants a tattoo but really
at my age and a nipple pierced,
what is she thinking.
She got out again last night
always running away oh to be free
What will she do this time
Read more...
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Poetry - Journeyman By Patrick Henry
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His learning class sank down the pits so deep as hell
Anyone expects from graft being a penance in the earth
To cut out coal black as mortal sin which burns
To fire steam force and make that world power work.
He lit out from there to war abroad: the tender flame
Of raw youth blown out close by where his chance survived..
Read more...
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Poetry - Hangin' Around & The You and Me Poem
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By Jane Foster
In gangs we trawled the wet streets, alive with possibilities,
The smell of fresh rain and freedom in our noses.
How come they always say that we didn't have much,
When so much open space was ours?
Read more...
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Poetry - Me and Jimbob, Lonesome Wail, and
Always that way By The Lazyswede
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Me & Jimbob out with the hound dog walking through them woods
Didn't see no sign of turkey all the time
Just a possum and a skunk
Then we heard a rustling in the pine trees
Thought our luck had changed
To our surprise before our eyes
A grizzly a running came ..
Read more...
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Poetry - AND IT SHALL COME TO PASS.. By Ken Hartford
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If I admit responsibility
For the life that comes my way,
Then I feel I own my body,
But that is just to say
I take my responsibility
For giving it some care
And that might apply to everyone
And to everything everywhere.
Read more...
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Poetry - Spirit of Woody Guthrie
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By Patrick Henry
These voices rising to a tremulous high C.,
Sad as a song created by old Woody G.,
Who long searched the home of the brave for the land of the free,
But found it's only left deep inside you and me.
Read more...
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Poetry - "I'm Doing Life", by Shelly D.
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I don't do happy,
I don't do laughter,
I'm not easy going or relaxed,
I'm not careful or carefree,
I don't go with the flow I'm not laid back,
I'm doing life.
Read more...
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Poetry - The Egotist By Cilla
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Tell me I'm great
Tell me I'm good
If you were a real friend
I'm sure that you would.
And why not be friends?
You're so good for me
But only when you tell
What I want to see ..
Read more...
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