Grime Scene

When Carter’s party found the tomb

Of Pharaoh King Tutankhamun

They gazed upon the scene with some dismay

At cups and bowls strewn all about

Discarded clothes, some inside-out

In random piles of total disarray.

Add rotting fruit, some moldy bread,

Old board games found beneath the bed

And robbery was feared with utter gloom.

Though if he’d had a son, or two

He would have known, as parents do

That’s how most teenage boys will leave a room.

Off The Scale

We sprang from a primordial soup

Of RNA and cosmic goop

We breathed through gills and swam in schools

Among the depths and rocky pools

Bedazzling, streamlined, clad in scales

Propelled by tails with fins for sails.

Until one day, so goes the lore

We cast a fishy eye to shore

And surfed the tide across the sand

To where the water meets the land.

Not ones to walk, we lacked technique

All thanks to our unique physique

But in the end we found our feet

Soon after, gills were obsolete.

Yet, Evolution is perverse

And sometimes throws it in reverse…

For, now we’ve waterparks with slides

We snorkel, sail and scuba dive

We swim with dolphins, live on boats

And show our small fry how to float.

Tots splash in puddles with delight

While summer’s one long water fight

Still, others love the touch of rain

But when asked Why? they can’t explain.

We left a world now out of reach

The day we clambered up that beach

The price of such a compromise?

This constant need to moisturize.

Hero Material

Batman sports a special cowl

He fashioned from titanium

Spider-Man prefers to prowl

In something called vibranium.

Dad’s a cop whose navy blue

And shield reflect his heart

Granddad fought through World War 2

In boots that fell apart.

Wonder Woman’s golden lasso

Makes folk tell the truth

It’s the way your mother asks you

Which makes her a sleuth.

Superpowers lie within

The clothes don’t make the man

Thor just needs a rolling pin

It’s true

Just ask your gran

Spell Check

Don’t walk too near the woods, go ’round

Especially at night

And if you must, don’t make a sound

Keep low and out of sight

Don’t whistle, sing or kick at stones

Don’t stop to climb a tree

For, if you do she’ll boil your bones

And have you for her tea

Because The Witch of Oldham Woods

Takes little ones who stray

Extinguishing the childhoods

Of those who lose their way

Who’ll never hear a mother’s words

Before their empty grave

Whose names are rarely ever heard

Whose souls no man can save

Don’t walk too near the woods, turn ‘round

For, all I say is true

And pray you’re found on hallowed ground

When she comes after you

Fall Guy

Speckled gourds and pumpkin pie

Picking chestnuts where they lie

Parsnips breaking through the soil

Beetroot ready for the boil

Plump tomatoes on the vine

Pressing apples, homemade wine

Mason jars stacked row on row

Lavender tied with a bow

Farmers whistling an old tune

Underneath the Harvest Moon