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



Monday 20 February 2012

Parsnips

Nobody writes poems about parsnips.
- Anna Pavord

I never liked parsnips when
I was younger than today;
my father's mother always used
to roast them on sunday;

the super-sweetness of them
would offend me because I
thought they were potatoes
so I'd spit them out and cry.

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