A series of very short poems and non poems about the normal things in life

 

There was a scrunched up bit of paper

It sat in the corner of a room

It was Tuesday

 

A rhyme about cheeses

Brie, Brie, I love thee

Please won't you get into me

Camembert, Stilton and craft cheese slices 

That last one is not the nicest

 

At 4 o'clock each day, he ran

Except on the days he didn't run

On those days he did different things instead

 

With a start, he woke

His vision still blurred from his nights sleep

The dawn had broke 

At the end of his bed was a figure

As black as coke

Murmuring the words he dreaded

"Wake up, it's time for work!"

 

A car drove by.

It stopped at the light.

The Lights turned green.

The car turned right.

 

There's some water on the floor

I should probably mop that up

But doing that's a bore

So I'm just going to leave it

 

I just picked up a screw

When I rotate it in my hands covering both ends the thread seems to be coming out of my fingers.

But it isn't

And I need to fit this door handle

 

It's tea time

I was going to make salmon

But I'd don't have any in

So I'll make gammon

 

The sense of loss

Remorse 

He's dead

The end of a long cold winter

His batteries are finally flat

I'll have to call the RAC

 

Building a wall 

Don't let them fall

You need to overlap them all

 

There was a cat who sat on a mat

In the middle of September 

The cat walked lazily from the mat

It was still September 

 

The miracle of growth

From nothing to something 

The surprise when you haven't seen them for a while 

Then, there they are. Big heads smiling up at you

Then you squeeze the head between your forefinger and thumb and wipe away the puss with a tissue.

 

On

Off

Colour

White

Up

Down

Light

Dark

Night

Day

"Timmy, stop playing with that light switch! You'll blow a fuse!

 

Hiding in a corner of a darkened room

Eyes covered hoping he can't see me

I hear the footsteps growing closer

A shudder down my spine

Is this excitement or fear?

Then I hear my fathers voice outside

"Coming, ready or not!"

 

David Cameron goes to the loo 

He doesn't suspect a number 2

He ends up with trousers covered in poo

 

A Christian man and a Muslim woman sat on a train

I question, why do they not speak to each other?

Is this about race?

Colour?

Language?

Religion?

Gender?

Personality?

Coincidence?

And who is at fault?

Who is ignorant? Who is afraid?

The answer is neither.

They were in different carriages.

On different days.

In different parts of the country. 

There was no realistic possibility of conversation.

 

Many people dislike violence 

The pained screeching puts many off

But if you're brought up with it from a young age

You can really start to hone your use of violence...

Sorry, stupid autocorrect!! I mean violins!!!

 

He enters the house

She watches as he walks past without speaking

Just like every day

He does not offer her a cup of tea

He does not offer to cook for her

He doesn't even look her in the eye

She looks down at her food

A meal for one

Again

She is alone

So she tucks the food into her pouch and goes for a spin in the hamster wheel... Wheeeeee!!!

 

There's a surprise on the way

A bun in her oven

I'm scared it might be mine

She's crap at cooking

 

What light through yonder window breaks?

Tis the garage light of the neighbour opposite

I hate that c**t