Grass

I lay on my back all sodding year, a forgotten waist land
Hair growing long waiting for a cut, a squashed a crop circle
Just look at multiple shades of green, splattered nature
Parts have not been touched; you may find a new sub-species
Rain, rain, sleet, what! three days of warm sunshine
Whoopee, I got the works, lawn feed, No2 hair cut
I might have known he’s having another BBQ
Look at him, thinks he’s master-chef or Titchmarsh
Dandy and his lions will soon be back on green baize
I wish I could be with her next door, alternate green strips
Her name is Lorna. I would not turf her out of bed, I’ll tell you
‘Hey Lorna’, I shouted, ‘fancy a bit of ruff?’
Anyway my problems are over now, a young couple moved in
First I new was when I felt a sensual quivering in my blades
A 5-star machine arrived, said’ my name is Patrick Mower

© Phil Golding 18/08/2007

As I mentioned before with your Ladies of the Round Table, I love your fantastic, allegorical, humorous mind! You have a riotous imagination and a snappy way of delivering deadpan witicisms. And, very cleverly, this poem also has skewed elements of the Romantics. One lawn falling for another -- utterly fab!

oh how tragic, very good poem - I agree with Moxy, it does remind me of the romantics, in fact the description of the male lawn reminds me of my fave Percy Byshe Shelley's physical description - hair too long lovely. Right I'm off to get a cold shower as I've been exchanging saucy messages with Cayn. Talking HP and Ketchup!lol.xxx

Thank you all for your kind comments.

I really enjoy this type of poetry. It lets thought flow free on a writing discovery, transfering persona. Fires my imagination


Cheers