THE MAN WHO POISONED HIMSELF BY MISTAKE [as told by his ghost]
There was a man alot like me
Who'd sit around and watch TV
He liked to drink and think alot
And bet, but never win alot
He was a curious winsome fella
Who always carried an umbrella
In sunshine and in showers
He'd stand under it for hours
Avoided walking under ladders
He waved at magpipes and
Revered cats
He'd cross the road at every turning
Spurning the man of little learning
And fat ladies in turned up hats!
His name was Derek my name was too
When I was alive we stuck like glue
Derek Fingleby believed in Fate
And was careful to inspect his plate
Convinced that his time was short
He cooked fresh food nothing shop bought
What followed next leaves a big question
Was Derek killed by poor digestion?
So careful and cautious was he, in what he'd eat
How could such care meet such defeat?
But Derek missed important signs
[...] Read more
poem by Yvette Smith
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
