Boarding the Mixed Metaphor Poetry Jamjar

This week's pot of poetry jam is being driven by the exotic Nancy Uhrhammer (or NanU for short) (or N for even shorter) and her prompt is to take your pick of the three pictures above and write about one of them. Please visit the other auteurs de confiture poetique for more thoughtful responses.

As a tribute to those poor souls currently slaving over the Junior Cert (Kate, get off this blog and start revising!) I have not read the question properly and have composed a nonsense poem (as a change from my normal searing literary quests for truth and enlightenment) encompassing all three of the above prompts. I give you a pot of cherry, rugby and bicycle jam (with extra metaphors)

She had lips like red cherries,
she played full-back for Skerries,
like a bicycle chained in the snow.
But now the cherries are schnappsed
and the scrum has collapsed
and the bicycle saddle’s too low.

She was sweet cherry brandy
and her side-step was handy,
like a bicycle chained to a rack,
but the wasps swarmed around,
I was hauled to the ground
and the snow covered up her one track.

Cherry lips, what a looker!
She was warm as a hooker
till the time that I tinkled her bell.
Then she turned stony-hearted,
to the sin-bin I departed,
firmly locked in the bike rack of hell.

And now the cherries have shrivelled,
the full-back has swivelled
and the bike’s trundled off in the night.
Yes, the fruit tree is bare
and the full back’s not there
and my bicycle clips are too tight.