By Rhys Hughes
A KIND OF POET
I wait in this box
without locks
for sinners to come
and whisper into
my unseen ear
a list of the deeds
they have done
and undone deeds
they want to do.
And while I wait
it’s true that I write
little verses in lieu
of muttering curses
in response to what
they reveal. I am a
quiet kind of helper,
a professional father
who strives to heal
the souls that would
rather wallow in sin.
Yes, in this blessed
hollow wooden bin
I convert failures of
the spirit into mildly
satiric lyrics. I am
a confessional poet.
DINOSAUR D’JOUR
The dinosaur
of the day is standing
in our way.
There are men
on the menu for him
and we are those
men. But if
you sing one of your
awful songs
it won’t be very long
before he goes
away and keeps
on going.
THE CONFECTIONARY SHIP
The confectionary ship
was once a normal schooner
that was dipped in a vat
of chocolate and should
have been pulled out sooner
than it was but it wasn’t.
Captain Candy is at the helm
and he is lord of the realm
of sweet things but his crew
don’t like him very much.
The problem is that he has
cream for blood and as a
result is very rich, and rich
men tend to look down on
the poor. Whether he is truly
haughty, who knows? But
he is certainly toffee-nosed.
THE TIGHTROPE WALKER
The rope is slack,
I can’t cross the canyon
on that. The rope
should be taut.
Taut what?
That’s a question easily
answered. Physics,
geography, economics,
the history of political
intervention.
Anything else?
Geology, biology and
medical attention.
Please find an educational
establishment
willing to enrol ropes.
Yes, I will.
Good.
This rope
should be taut
by reputable teachers.
.
Rhys Hughes has lived in many countries. He graduated as an engineer but currently works as a tutor of mathematics. Since his first book was published in 1995 he has had fifty other books published and his work has been translated into ten languages.
.
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