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Poem

‘Taties and carrots and onions
All have their own natural skin
So why do most of the suppliers 
Use plastic bags to pack them in, 
Either the fragile brittle type 
That bursts  all over the floor
Or the stretchy greasy oily sort
That resist for evermore,

Evading each attempt until
They grudgingly finally split
Just before the onset of 
A near fatal apoplectic fit.
Meat is sold in indestructible packs
With film top supposedly able to peel 
But unfortunately all seem to have 
An equally indestructible seal.

The advent of plastic packaging 
Has become one of the banes of life
Normally requiring heated resort
To hacking  with scissors or knife.
Are they super human, these designers
Or is each just a malicious little rat
Extracting satisfaction from inventing
Such useless products as that 

They say  us oldies don’t recycle
They don’t seem to understand
In our younger days we didn’t 
Contaminate many acres of land.
We took our own shopping bags
Used paper and glass to pack
Bought our milk in bottles 
And sent all the empties back

If there is an after  life I hope 
It is made unavoidably obligatory
That every packaging designer
Suffer eons in purgatory,
And in the cause of justice those
Whose lives they’ve made so drear
Be allowed to sit and watch and,
Maybe,  cheer and shout and jeer.

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