Poetry corner

Feelings are like potato pealingsby  Mary Marmot

My love for him drained away

Like soap no good today

George came back from the late night garage

With a bag of crisps the ones with the ridge

Too late was he to save my love

He pushed me down; gave me a shove

Battered was my body and face

As if I were chipshop plaice

Caught him cheating with a rubik cube

Stickers in his pants and an errant pube

Oh George, oh George you silly boy

How can you do it with a toy?

He said the cube it did not nag

Nor looked like a bed-ridden hag

But George my shingles keep me ill

I’m sorry I no longer thrill

But George has moved to some new whore

Rubbing up and down my Connect Four

Why oh why did you do it to me – oh!

And pop upstairs with the Subbuteo?

Oh George, stop flirting with the Buckaroo

Don’t you know it makes me so blue?

My feelings are like potato peelings

With George I shall have no more dealings

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