Ma's Soup
'Dinner won't be long, Dear.'
Burt puffed up his pillows and squeezed one out.
'Better wash your hands, now'.
The armchair smothered his glee.
Wallaby faggots,
Brown rice juices,
Lentils,
Barley and rye.
Jumbo morels,
Whatever she sells,
Liquid fish stock,
Brussels and hock,
Tranches of offal from Thebes!
Chilly jam and
Fruity brown sauce.
Round and round
The rotten rump,
The rancid ratchet rasped.
'It must've been that onion jus',
Was all that I could gasp.
Round and round
The rotten rump,
The rancid ratchet rasped.
'It must've been that onion jus',
Was all that I could gasp.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
