A terrible piece of procrastinatory poetry

I do not want to work today
I do not want to sit indoors
I want to go outside and play
Instead of talking to these bores

I do not like to sit inside
I do not like at all
I cannot open windows wide
In case the felines fall

It’s hot in here and stuffy too
I do not like it much
I’d like to look at skies of blue
and grass of green and such

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Rival

I’m better than you

But you pretend you don’t know it

you feel that its true

But you don’t think that you show it

 

 

But it shines bright through

Your cracked and nervous smile

The one you think projects who

You want to be and while

 

 

It lights your face it fails

To reach those poorly shuttered eyes

So without grace, they pale

When judging me for size

 

 

 

Lisa Pouncer, May 2017

Herbert the Pale

800px-White_snail_Diwan_Queensland_1Let me tell you the story of Herbert The Pale
A tiny, adventuring albino snail
I saw him this morning just outside the station
The tiniest snail in all of creation

Just slithering along at the side of the street
About to be crushed by rampaging feet
So I stopped, picked him up and moved him aside
To the grand flowerbed where he now resides

My fellow commuters must have thought me mad
As I cradled the snail, the tiny wee lad**
And placed him very gently on top of some mud
Away from high heels and near some fresh grub

Being kind to nature, it gives you a glow
I’m happy at work for now that I know
That Herbert can sleep in his new flower bed
With African Violets over his head

(** I know snails are hermaphrodites, that’s why they are all called Her-bert)

Lisa Pouncer, 2014 Continue reading Herbert the Pale