Otter Nonsense

It’s impossible to understand otters:
They mix up their letters
And only use voles

The Man in Denim Shorts

I only went in to get fruit and veg.
Shortly after entering I was put on edge.
Oh, what I would have done for a hedge
Or a wall to conceal the view:

The man in denim shorts was there.
It was incredibly hard not to stare.
Such a display of bulges is rare.
I didn’t know what to do.

I’d seen cycling shorts baggier than those.
To think that he actually chose
To wear such inappropriate clothes.
I was in a state of shock.

Yes, I admit my pulse did quicken
And a lump in my throat began to thicken.
I hadn’t come in to get some chicken
But I did see a cock.

The Smiths at Christmas

Morrissey said to Marr
As he opened his first present:
‘Please, please, please let me get what I want…’
His eyes lit up
As he realised that now
He had a stitch to wear.
He put his hand in a glove
While Marr pulled out a piece of paper from a cracker:
‘Stop me if you think that you’ve heard this one before…’
Everyone agreed that
That joke isn’t funny anymore.
‘Heaven knows I’m miserable now,’
Said Andy, who was still ill
From the night before.
He lay on the floor
Drinking more.
Mike clutched his stomach and stared at his plate:
‘I started something I couldn’t finish.’
Morrissey took the nut loaf in his gloved hand:
‘Why do I spend Christmas Day
With people who I’d much rather
Enjoyed my cooking?’
He threw the nut loaf out the window,
Causing panic in a street in Manchester.
‘Bigmouth strikes again!’
Said Marr.
‘Last night I dreamt that somebody loved me,’
Whispered Morrissey
Before riding his punctured bicycle
To the cemetery gates,
Narrowly avoiding a ten tonne truck on the way.

Midnight

It’s so quiet,
So still,
So stationery,
You could hear a pen drop.

Busty

I am clearly not busty
Yet several times I have said that I am
In emails.
Clearly I meant that I was busy,
Though I have typed the word busty
Frequently enough for it to seem deliberate.
I reassure myself that everyone knows
That if I was truly busty
I would be too busy
To write emails.

Something Original

Yes. I remember Adlestrop –
The church, because one afternoon
We went inside and had a look
And I wrote a comment in the visitors’ book.

Not lovely or peaceful or simply divine!
No. Something original: a genuine sign
Of my appreciation.

I wrote well maintained
And for a minute you scowled at me
As if to say
I should have been more respectful,
More religious,
And it seemed that God agreed
As the sky growled and it rained.