Hi John,
Had to cease lurking for a moment when I read this one. Seems to work
very well.
Image of the mist across the sea works brilliantly, could see myself
being taken to another place and you've acheievd a first I think -
never seen the word 'wodge' in a poem before!
Bravo from Lurksville
Cheers
Ian
John Carley wrote: Here's a poem about Whitby, bombing (Serbia),
and over-priced beer. Prettytopical then.And although Caedmon was the
lad what about Hild? The most poweful womansince Boudeca, and who
would have eaten Margaret (my hero) Thatcher forbreakfast (actually
she'd have fed her to Caedmon's pigs and then had abacon
buttie).Donuts and Dracula (Whitby and Chips)we join the queuetripon
the cobblesclaim we're not afraidof the gaps in the pierwe stand by
the crossat the top of the stepsand I give a lectureon Caedmonand
Hildsomewherebeyond the sea mistbeyond the flitof the butterfly's
wingand the peal of Easter bellslazers are guidingpolicymaybenobody
seems too surewe shrugdodge a waspcomment on the sautéed squidhave
another pintof iffy beeron the hillthe rose windowframes another
wodge of skyonly costs a fiverfor the lot
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