Archives – Poem of the Day

When the beasts were created
Nobody debated
Whether He who designed ’em
Could p’rhaps have refined ’em

He waltzed around the winger
Struck the striker dumb with skill
Reminiscent of a Pele
Or a Zico from Brazil

Isaac Newton in the orchard sitting in the shade
Contemplated weighty stuff while drinking apple-ade
The gravity of worldly matters pulling at his frown
Attractive as they first appeared, they really got him down

Mr Carson, trainee parson
Spends his nights committing arson
He tells me he cannot endure it
But cannot find a way to curate