Poetry cornerPosted: 19/09/2012
Feelings are like potato pealings – by 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