Morning charm

Armed only with disarming charm
I face each barmy day
as if I were an army
facing down a vast array
of armed alarming archers
in the garments of their trade.

Armed with harmful marmalade,
arrayed in armazine,
with pharmacies of Marmite
in their ardent magazines,
they march around the armoire
and atop my old armchair,
airy air-drawn arabesques
as if I wasn’t there.

Ancient Athens never saw
armadas quite like that,
but I can charm the arse
off Agamemnon’s cat.

As in all great poems,
we reach the anti-strophee:
— I’m not going anywhere,
until I’ve ‘ad my co-ffee.


 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s