This Poet-in-Residence sonnet is dedicated to those on the roughshod roads of life. For those who missed the Gravesend bus, may the end of winter soon be here.
Shivering James
At the Alderman Lushington
I scraped an acquaintance
with an afternoon farmer;
one airing his heels, and
talking only the gammon;
a Shivering James with
no milk in his nut
and no lard in his pan;
an Aberdeen cutlet
was tucked in his belt.
I caught the wind of his word,
all balductum and quatsch;
an Inspector of Pavements
with nowhere to go...
______
gw2010
Kind of a post-modern leech-gatherer. I like it.
ReplyDeleteSeems to me you struck up an acquaintance with a rather odd character Poet.
ReplyDeleteAS, post-modern leech-gatherer (!) that's luverly.
ReplyDeleteTWOG, well, erm, yes, you know these tykes...I mean types :)
excellent (inspector of pavements - great line)
ReplyDeletejohn
Thanks Jihn, and may they all find whatever it is they are looking for be it a long tab or ten bob note...
ReplyDelete