Sixty years, well here’s to it, I raise a glass; into it, I spit.
Jerk my head to call him near, passed his glass feigned a cheer.
He swallowed with greed; saliva and all. I curl my lip; soon he’ll fall.
A drunk, a bully full of hate; tonight, they will see his colours
spread out on the dinner plate. I served tripe and jellied eels.
This food, both banal and grey; like him, had seen a better day.
I smile at those around my cloth. His cronies and the hangers-on
those that doff their cap, those that think him a super chap.
“Please sit” I cry. Having previously dressed his tripe
with little crushed garlic to disguise the arsenic’s taste.
It was with finality he gorged in ungentlemanly haste.
Today my cynical response to the terrible poetry prompt. It takes me to a sixtieth Anniversary gathering. I hope you enjoy. Please leave me a comment I simply love to talk.
Welcome to my page! My name is Emily, I'm a Registered Nurse and Holistic Nutrition Student with a passion for the connection between nutrition and health! Check out this page for plant based recipes, nutrition and fitness tips and all things wellness!
Eric Sinclair - optimist, author, Stroke Association volunteer, occasional chorister - all views my own but fully endorsed by the whippet. "Being challenged in life is inevitable, being defeated is optional"
