The cost of a ticket for this week's poetry bus is one ticket about any of the four images found here.If I am reading them correctly - and its a big IF - they are an iris, a clock, a hospital chart and a view of something under a microscope. So being a smarty-pants, I tried to incorporate all four. The result is a tender and moving ballad of tragedy and hope, of opportunity overcoming adversity...
Farewell to Iris
Slowly ticks the clock upon your locker,
The chart upon your bed just serves to taunt you.
You told me you were playing ladies soccer,
Words, it seems that have come back to haunt you.
How long did you enjoy back-seat relations
Before your cheating heart ran out of luck?
Oh Iris, did he meet your expectations,
Before the assignation with that truck?
Brake-failure, said the inquest. Accidental.
A coitus interruptus to beat all.
Though the driver said he heard you going mental
Before your car was crushed against the wall.
It fecked up all the organs that once mattered,
They tut when they peer down the microscope.
Your spleen, your kidneys and your lungs are shattered,
The doctors say there isn’t any hope.
Yesterday your lover was cremated
(At least the bits the firemen could find)
I went, to offer sympathy belated,
And found his widow stoic and refined.
She’s sexy and exceedingly good-looking,
Tonight we’re going out on our first date.
Dinner will involve much finger-sucking –
I guess that’s just the fickle hand of fate.
Slowly ticks the clock upon your locker,
The chart upon your bed just serves to taunt you.
You told me you were playing ladies soccer,
Words, it seems that have come back to haunt you.
How long did you enjoy back-seat relations
Before your cheating heart ran out of luck?
Oh Iris, did he meet your expectations,
Before the assignation with that truck?
Brake-failure, said the inquest. Accidental.
A coitus interruptus to beat all.
Though the driver said he heard you going mental
Before your car was crushed against the wall.
It fecked up all the organs that once mattered,
They tut when they peer down the microscope.
Your spleen, your kidneys and your lungs are shattered,
The doctors say there isn’t any hope.
Yesterday your lover was cremated
(At least the bits the firemen could find)
I went, to offer sympathy belated,
And found his widow stoic and refined.
She’s sexy and exceedingly good-looking,
Tonight we’re going out on our first date.
Dinner will involve much finger-sucking –
I guess that’s just the fickle hand of fate.
all four!? nicely played.
ReplyDeleteand i'm impressed with that bus poster!
wicked:-)
ReplyDeletethanks for sharing
cfm
Brilliant mash-up of the images and so funny.
ReplyDeleteI actually laughed out loud (really) at verses 1 and 5.
fickle hand of fate! Delicious
ReplyDeleteYes.. with titus.. actual out of loud laughing!.. such brilliant humour! excellent!
ReplyDeletePoor Iris... have to give her credit, she had a great name! ; )
ReplyDeleteCleverly twisted tale, Peter!
Oh, that last verse is killer! (God, don't say it too fast though!)
ReplyDeleteI have to tell you, I accidentally clicked on the top link in your profile and thought you'd suddenly gone all "travel-blog" on me. I couldn't figure out where all the lighthouses were coming from and where the poetry had gone, until I scrolled back up to the top. Phew! (Not that it isn't a smashing blog, of course.)
at least the parts the firemen could find... jeepers peter - it's just always a joy calling over here! very funny yet again.
ReplyDeleteDeadly funny Peter and cleverly worked too. The world sure moved for the pair of them, and fair (fare?) play to you for consoling the merry widow.Every bus crash has a silver lining.
ReplyDeleteOh, I really enjoyed the wicked humour in this - it's definitely bucking for Bus Pome of the Week for me!
ReplyDeleteWay to go with all the prompts Pete, and your tender and moving ballad is wickedly funny.
ReplyDeleteThanks very much everyone for the kind comments in my hour of tragedy. They are helping me, along with the widow of course, come to terms with a very difficult situation.
ReplyDelete