who wanted a human for tea.

He pulled one right in

then took off his skin

and ate him with chips – tasty.

Those testy scales are laden
with feet hidden by the flab.
No mirrors in the bathroom
to reveal the clothes so drab.

Chocolate in the drawer;
a silent hidden treasure,
so rich and darkly smooth.
The taste of it such pleasure.

The adverts dictate thinness
as an ideal woman’s form
but I suggest that chocolate
should be everybody’s norm.

The tangled stems daily produce
a harvest of scented delight,
like delicate tissue paper,
natural, beautiful, bright.

A small bunch tied with silken string
will say more than words ever say,
and when the flowers are in a vase
they sensualise the day.

He should be heading downwards
but he’s standing on his feet.
The nurses try to turn him
but their work is incomplete.

A caesarean operation
brings the baby safely here.
Mother’s doing well.
Relief grins from ear to ear.

The new baby is a beauty.
We all coo and start to fuss,
but God bless him as he yawns
and turns away from us.

Look at the toys they are given these days.
So many games to be played.
If I tidied up after them I’d have to say
I’d be well and truly dismayed.

It will tear at your heart strings I know that for sure
If they’re crying a lot or in pain,
so give them a hug and a huge chocolate bar
and hand them back to their parents again.

My husband’s half is full of him.
The cats pile on my side.
I’d really like to have a stretch
and believe me I have tried.

It’s very hot in here tonight
and I’m feeling rather squashed.
One cat is chewing at his toes
and another’s getting washed.

I suffer from a lack of sleep.
It’s every night you see
and is it far too much to ask,
is there any room for me?

But the image is misleading, false.
The mirage of a willing mind;
a wishful trick of memory,
but time will make the truth unwind.

Glasses placed before her eyes,
she sees deep  wrinkles dance their track.
Looking into the mirror once more
she sees her mother staring back.

They check that it is safe
to swoop and steal a morsel,
then feed themselves mid-air.
Fascinated people whisper in hides
at the theatre before them.

They watch through slitted windows
with bright eyes open wide,
as camera shutters click
Like a never-ending tune
to catch the birds that fill the sky.

The kites dance and glide,
and spread their patterned wings
like hand painted open fans,
while buzzards stand firm;
their red raw meal secure.

I dreamed of writing books
of the stories in my head,
but the words kept on drowning
in the bottles by my bed.
The shop became a prison.
She jailed me with her love.
How I longed to fly free
just like the clouds above.

Then along came his aging nibs,
and mum went all a quiver.
People thought I would be jealous
when he made her old bones shiver.
But I thought – I’ll take my leave;
now I will spread my wings.
I own nothing but my backpack
and a heart that truly sings.

Now I am a seasoned traveller
and see so many sights.
I try delicious national dishes
and climb the highest heights,
but there’s one thing I will never touch,
It will not pass my lips.
I will never, ever, eat again
bloody fish and chips.