Poetry corner

Day of the triploids – By Henrietta B Pencil

grape nutting a squirrel

‘Don’t touch that! It’s evil!’

It’s grapes I’ve never trusted,
Though I’ve often tried,
The old ones bitter and crusted,
The young with furtive lies

Now I come to think of it,
Satsumas are such yobs,
Spouting pith as they see fit,
The orange underdogs

The humble apple boasts some form,
Not a stranger to a tiff,
For signed CDs of PM Dawn,
It would sell its Granny Smith,

Rhubarb’s known for starting fights,
And stealing motorbikes,
I hope that they get banged to rights,
The TWOKing little tykes

‘We’re good for you’ you’ll hear them say,
Just show them to the door,
They may be one of five a day,
But they’re rotten to the core

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Poetry rectangle, or poetry corner if you prefer

Shapely Otter Thighs

 

By Panda McGuigan

 

Barry is an otter with a cheeky roving eye,

He’s often down the riverbank checking out a shapely otter thigh

Heaven knows what poor Margaret his long suffering wife,

Thinks of all his lusty acts, it must dominate her life

He’s never really home these days, and ignores his otterlets

I just hope when he’s older this is something he never regrets

To be fair though, the DNA tests were inconclusive

And Margaret herself in her youth was not exactly exclusive

She’d raise her tail to any beefy otter suitor,

Give her a fish head and she’d let you root and toot her

Often behind the bins where the stream it does divide

Otters would cue up for a go and come from far and wide

Things didn’t change when she met our hero Barry

She even flirted with the otter vicar on the day she was supposed to marry

So I guess Barry’s behaviour we can exonerate

As he’s out swimming in his hunky trunks looking for another mate

The pair of them really are awful, the lowest of the low

Perhaps they need to sort it out on the otter Jeremy Kyle show