ALEX FORMENTON
BRIDGE TOO FAR MAYBE THIS ONE
SOME FANS SAY ARE DONE
You
are not separate~
That is said to be
radical and for some
a bridge too far~
You want to
witness and enjoy
the fruits of earned
awakening and not
to be told there
is no one to awaken~
A seeming death
on the doorstep~
Keeping the search
alive awaiting the
Gold~~
A fisherman entered my favourite pub
He said he’d been fishing for that evening’s grub
He carried some salmon, a couple of brace
Which rather explained the big grin on his face
He said to the landlord, ‘Can I use your fridge,
For these fish I caught from down under the bridge?’
‘But how did you catch them?’ the landlord enquired
‘That’s easy,’ he said, ‘but a mate is required.’
‘You don’t need a rod for there’s no need to angle,
Your mate holds your feet while upturned you dangle.
And when a fish jumps you must grab him real quick
And knock him out cold with a rock or a brick.’
Mick, in the corner, gave Patrick a wink
‘That’ll do me,’ he said, ‘finish your drink.’
Soon Patrick’s over the bridge where he dangles
With Mick holding tight onto each of his ankles
Suddenly Pat shouted, ‘Pull me up, Mick.’
Mick gasped, ‘Have you got a fish, boy, that was quick’
But Patrick screamed, ‘No, but I hear a loud humming’
‘So, pull me up now... there’s a bloody train coming!’
Here lie a dentist and his wife.
Long in the tooth they left this life.
Young Smith inherits in the will
Two gold crowns and a dental drill!
13/09/18
' A funny epitaph contest' : Sponsored by Jesse Rowe
A Bridge in Portugal
There had been much rain in the upland and the river ran strong, so forceful
that a pillar, on the old bridge, broke off and half of it fell.
Misty night when a bus crossed the bridge, down into churning inferno,
for its passengers a few seconds of terror before death came as a blessing.
Thirty people had been aboard going home; it took hours to families of
the disappeared knew of this immense tragedy.
None was ever seen again, but one; a woman found on the strand in France,
skeletal hands pressed to her face, open mouth and the echo of a scream
as eye sockets accusatorially looked up to a silent the sky.
A new bridge has been built, the old one is still there and boys jump
off it, for them what happened a winter eight years ago is history.
It must be that way, life must go on, and the river must run towards
the ocean and eternity.
The distance to you where you are,
spans too wide on the bridge too far.
I run the distance, yet, still I see,
There's more stretched out ahead of me.
Too far the bridge, too long to cross,
unless your wings to me you toss!
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