i'm bad on poetry....but i'll pop in and read them

 

"We don't do haiku. Only cod."

In the dismal November rain

The fishmonger's leaden voice

Echoed the soft pitter-patter

Of autumnal leaf corpses

Falling on the grim pavement outside.

 

"No, its a type of poetry. Japanese."

A suffusion of blood to his already florid jowls indicated:

Confusion?

Anger?

A sense of (hopefully) innocent misunderstanding?

"You want the poetry shop up the road then. We only sell fish.

Rhymes with "pish". Just like your poetry."

 

His smeary fish oil hands grasped my notebook.

"I'll give thee poetry. Think thee can come

Into my shop

Pretending you're T.S fucking Eliot?

I'll give thee poetry!"

 

"There was a young man of Devizes

Whose balls were two different sizes.

One was so small

And no use at all

While the other took several prizes.

Now THAT is poetry!"

 

As the rain battered against the window

Opaque with cod-stenched condensation

I became terse

And tried to explain blank verse

(I was rapidly learning about this rhyming thing!)

 

 

 

 

Standing ovations (that spilt my coffee, tyvm) ALL AROUND!!!

 

How could I have missed these threads for so long???