L.A. Mereoie: Hard Mouthful
‘The Herts, Beds, Bucks, Berks and Hants
Retriever Society . . .’ – Report
The Herts, Beds, Bucks and Berks and Hants
A name that brings back shots,
Dog-whistles, whines and barks and pants
And tongues tied up in knots.
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Greg Duncan: Road Works Ahead
Road Works Ahead
Was the sign that I read
And a thought crossed my mind
Did it not work behind?
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Tony Peyser: How Spam Promotes Literacy
It said Please Read in the subject box.
After a quick look,
I shut off my computer and then picked
Up the nearest book.
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Julia Griffin: Likeness
My love is, like, a red, red rose:
She’s, like, the babe for me;
I guess that’s, like, the way it goes.
I’m, like, a laid-back bee.
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Jerome Betts: A Microscopic Mercy
I think that I shall never see
A PM lacking as our B.
But, though a lying straw-haired cove,
At least he isn’t Michael Gove.
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Robin Helweg-Larsen: Bee
Through the honeyed halls of Autumn
Hums the angry ageing bee;
As its work faces fruition,
And its life, redundancy.
First published in Candelabrum
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Greg Duncan: The Rain In Spain
The rain in Spain
May practise in the plain
But in the streets of Barcelona
It reveals its true persona
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Tony Peyser: Los Angeles
After taking it on
The chin again,
Many come here
To begin again.
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L.A. Mereoie: Blast Chance Saloon
Dick ‘Double Six’, the gambler, won
With methods not too nice,
For first he’d load his big black gun
And then, his big black dice.
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Julia Griffin: Coincidence?
Milton, who never wrote about his mother,
And Donne, who never wrote about his dad,
Were born within a street of one another.
Both mourned their wives in sonnets, one might add.
