Poetry by Rhys Hughes

THE FLAVOUR

There was a bird
who pecked a cake
and scattered crumbs
around the lake.
There was a monkey
with sore thumbs
who took a rake and cleaned them up.
There was a ship
out on the water
that had lost its fleet
just as a calf might stray from a herd
and close to shore
it observed the details of this feeding
and all other proceedings
between itself and the distant chateau
and rather wondered
at the flavour
of the shattered gateau
that had despoiled a lakeside that 
looks nicer neat
and concluded it tasted
quite like an unwashed yeti’s feet.


 
OH NOAH

I have been
thinking
about Noah’s Ark
and wondering
where
Noah put
the woodpeckers.

Including them
seems wrong.

Then it occurred
to me that
they made
the portholes
as the boat
went floating along.