Here are some poems, composed by a puppet,

some are my own and some of them not.

You can like one, or quite like them all,

or simply not like them a hell of a lot.


x



Thursday 2 February 2012

New Library.

Confusion appears
on the faces of new
library members
that come in and join up
because of the slick, shiny, sleek,
multi-million pound, industrial-chic
library that's appeared round 'ere.

They walk in and are confronted
not by rows of books
(as one would expect)
but by what is called
a 'quick choice collection'-
a single shelving unit
with a selection of the stock.

"Is this it?"
they ask bemused,
and you have to tell them that more exists upstairs.
In this way
you feel a little like a preacher
or a sunday school teacher
answering your congregations questions about life.

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