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2010 Poetry Challenge

National Poetry Month



Peter Willowdown

Morning blues and red suede shoes,
alligator on my trail
- a strange hobo is driving the morning buss,
all the schoolkids using sign-language to cuss...
Walking down Main street someone has
taught their parrot to speak in fluent Mandarin.
I don't know what exactly it's calling me
but I'd like to soak it in paraffin.
In the office my computer has crashed
and Miss Double Spacing from the thirteenth floor
has delegated me half a dozen tedious tasks.
And if that isn't enough someone has drawn a moustache
on my desktop picture of Miss Whiplash.
It's going to be one of those days.
Strangely, last night I dreamt I was
sitting in a pretty forest glade,
talking to the animals, just like Dr. Dolittle.
I don't mean to belittle a fine pyschotherapist like Jung
but frankly it's a load of trash...
I'm just about to flick some ash
into the wastepaper bin
when I remember the new No Smoking ban.
I look up and see already half a dozen faces turned my way.
Just as the fire alarm begins to bleep and sway
J. Johah Jamieson pokes his head out of his office
and I wish that I could crawl away.
Yep - it's Monday alright!

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