Category Archives: Poems

poetry

Take Your Rubbish Home

Take Your Rubbish Home

He spat it out a blob of white

Our eyes followed its trajectory

It sailed and arched like a sneeze caught in the wind

Before hitting the ground

And glue-like stuck fast there

Beside my shoe  Ugh

A sight on the ground

“What the hell”! The others cried outraged

“It tasted bad, in my mouth” he smirked

“Where should I put it?

Under my desk

“It wouldn’t stick under your feet there,” he sneered

“It gets snagged in the cleaners’ hands,” they shot back

Take your rubbish home. Stop spreading filth

He shrugged, uncaring it seemed

Despite their disgust of him

And spat again

I left him there

Too enraged to say anymore

Except

Over my shoulder I shouted loudly

“Take your rubbish home you slob.”

Gemma Hill 2019©

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What a Funny Old World

What funny old times we’re living in

Sunburn and barbecues in spring

No teeth chattering no woolly hats in March

Sunshine wall to wall every day we rise

Winter in July

Gales lashing round our ears

Sending us scuttling for shelter

It’s a funny old world

 

Waiting with baited breath for news of the R rate

Hairdressers and barbers may be permitted

To open up!

Great burst of exuberant excitement

It’s a funny old world

 

Gardens flowers in sheer abundance

Raise their faces to the constant sunbeams

A fashion parade of crazy paving

Much admired on social media

It’s a funny old world

 

Magically dinners delivered

A welcome sight on all kinds of doorsteps

Locked in over indulgences expanding waistlines

Surfing the internet for something that fits

It’s a funny old world

 

A cheesy wave from

The neighbour two door over

I’ve lived beside him for many years

I’m amazed to find he knew my name all along

It’s a funny old world

 

Masks in place we venture out

It’s a changed world outside the house

Move on.

Don’t loiter

No Talking

No singing please

It’s a funny old world

 

Grumbling nostalgically

About the good old shopping days

When

Face to face toe to toe

We’d stand and have a

Good old natter without fearing

Pesky particles floating

Carrying little buggers of

Covit 19

It’s a funny old world

 

Slippery as eels with sanitizing dripping

Playing following the leader on the

Yellow starters’ line

Painted arrows anti-clack wise

No turning back for things you’ve forgotten

No touching allowed unless you purchase

The disembodied voice on the Tanoan thunders

What a funny old time we’re living in

Gemma Hill copyright 2020

 

 

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Filed under memories, Poems

Super tramps

Super tramps

The bearded man in his cardboard home

Stared as the flames licked the side of the barrel

He fingered the bottle in his hand

Like a dead man it lay

Empty

Bereft of life

As useless as he felt inside

He threw a look and tentatively spoke

This life is wasting us

Let’s get out

Be super tramps again

Get back on the Telly.

Make loads of money

A house in the country

Holidays in warm climes

 

His friend sucked in his toothless gums

Shook a dead mouse from his flies

Coaxed the last dregs of booze

From the heel of an old shoe

Swept his tongue round his chin

Captured the dregs that thought to run

A dreamy smile sparkled his eyes

He travelled down memory’s lane

He could smell the scampi taste the champagne

For a while it had been his holy grail

 

Waving the ragged arm of his coat

He had relieved a scarecrow of in a turnip field

He balled his fists

The drink has befuddled your brain old friend

Become notorious citizens again?

Devoured by the media at every turn

Throat as dry as a gravel pit

He shook his head decisively

Go if you must but leave me be

Gemma Hill 2020©

 

 

 

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