Sprouts.
Don't eat sprouts at your girlfriends house, her parents won't like the wind
Don't eat sprouts at your bosses house, the bathroom rarely forgives
But other than that, get them in, chow them down
Those spheres of goodness are worth every pound
They shouldn't be mushy and squishy, not grey
They shouldn't be eyeball shaped, falling away
Keep them green people, blanch them and plunge them in ice
Fry them up in some butter, they're really quite nice
Cut into them, they should still hold a nice crunch
Look like miniature cabbages, have some for lunch
Order sprouts at work parties, order sprouts out at dinner
With the vitamins in you, you're onto a winner
But heed this here warning- Savour them, chew, don't rush
Or you'll end up with renegade sprouts that won't flush!
Shaun Brookes.
The theme this week is Child's Play. I obviously wanted to write something profound about health and safety, over zealous parenting or the incredible feat that is a man jumping from the edge of space. What I managed was a childish poem essentially about farts and unflushables. I'm sure we've all had those days as a writer.
Thanks for reading,
S.
2 comments:
They used to be my favourite vegetable :-)
Good to see you back.
Ash
As he's become a man, many of our son's eating habits have changed, but a total inability to ingest sprouts has been a constant theme, yet I love then especially with chestnuts at Christmas.
Very funny poem, Shaun - well done.
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