Understanding Susan

churchilltheatre.co.uk/Online/tickets-understanding-susan-bromley-2019

She Stoops to Conquer

A Daughter's a Daughter

I was once described as a ‘no-frills poet’, a title I love, as at the time I was still developing a style. With this grand title in mind, ‘Whimsies of a No-Frills Poet’ offers 20 frank or funny poems on subjects ranging from love, grief, nostalgia, loneliness, absurdity, homicidal bacon, and British rail cuisine.

Available on Kindle and in paperback from Amazon.

Available in other formats via Smashwords and SRIBD..

The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee

Blue Passport

Blue passport, blue passport, just makes you think,

How long we've endured our passports of pink,

(But aren’t they really a burgundy-red?)

Forced upon us by a faceless EU,

Insisted we changed to red from our blue,

(But that was not what they actually said.)

Our British heritage, blue to the last,

Part of our history, and our great past,

(But only since the year nineteen twenty.)

Passport of blue, that’s the colour for me,

Part of our national Identity,

(Just like our social inequality.)

Chris Raven

© 2017 Chris Raven

Bacon

Bacon's the most dangerous food in the land,

Not so the joint, diced pancetta or canned,

'tis the common type, that we should beware,

That sneaky streaky, that we find so fair.

So, what is wrong with our old breakfast friend?

The hangover cure, on which we depend,

Nice in a butty, with chicken or egg,

“What’s the beef with the pork,” I hear you beg.

Happy to tell you, put you in the know,

The rascally rasher is really your foe,

That salty goodness is really a trick,

It aims to kill, or at least make you sick.

I'm sure it's happened, to you or a friend,

When eating too fast, forgot to defend,

Against the rind, too rubbery to chew,

Slips down your throat and spells the end of you.

And so it just sits, a snake in your craw,

Making you choke, you can't breath anymore,

A long sinuous string, more like a noose,

Try as you might, you just can't shake it loose.

Eyes streaming hot, someone thumps on your back,

Start to black out from the air that you lack,

With finger and thumb, a pinch at the tip,

A slow careful tug, and out it will slip.

Like some monstrous tapeworm, plaid and grey,

Slithers right out as it's pulled all the way,

Past sweating lips, left to hang in the air,

A vivid warning for all to take care.

And now you know, you've all had a warning,

Beware the bacon, night, day and morning,

Don't be complacent, be always on guard,

Or cut off the rind..., it's not very hard.

Chris Raven

© 2017 Chris Raven