POMES

by

Barbara Scott-Emmett

The Monster Love Pomes This plump pink booklet of quirky poems is now available from: Pentalpha Publishing Edinburgh ISBN 09528843 0 5 Price Ł2.50 plus postage. (total Ł3)	Home	Read a Poem! The Monster Love Pomes Elephants Wolf Two Mirrors The Poet's Refusal Wasps &: Scorpions Ideal Men Keep it Clean Le Coeur Console BSE by BSE
ELEPHANTS There are elements of elephants in your lineaments my love. Your trunk so long and snaking gently probes me when I'm waking, when the morning's soft and grey, as is a dove. And your ivory tusk so firm, and my melting musk so warm when the evening skies grow calm, oh my love, oh my love. Oh your temperament is turbulent, not sentimental, love. For your passion shoots right through me -and what endears you to me, are the elements of elephants my love.		THE POET'S REFUSAL This one's no good - I won't read it, don't make me. No really, I mean it. The effort it would take me would dry up my mouth, churn my gut, numb my brain - I'm not just pretending, it's really a pain. It's boring, it's clichéd, When I wrote it I was pissed. Oh all right then, go on, just for you - if you insist.
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TWO MIRRORS The mirror in the dress shop told me I was tall and slender. A svelte young thing like you, it cooed, has got to be a spender. So I bought and bought and bought some more and then I took them home and tried them on before the glass that stands in my bedroom. You silly bitch, my mirror said, I told you you were fat. Haven't you learned yet not to be fooled by a lying shop mirror like that?		WOLF Wolverine night, strawroof protection; Padding paw and clicking nail. Slobbering, slavering, starveling teeth glint in moonlight. Stars grow pale. Lupus licks lycanthrop lips; Wolfish, whistling wind wails wild. Porcine panic! Maelstrom! Manic! Wolf lies waiting - teeth and smiles.

Wasps & Scorpions More quirky poems by Barbara Scott-Emmett available from: Pentalpha Publishing Edinburgh Price Ł2.50 plus postage. (total Ł3)		Read a Poem! The Monster Love Pomes Elephants Wolf Two Mirrors The Poet's Refusal Wasps &: Scorpions Ideal Men Keep it Clean Le Coeur Console BSE by BSE
IDEAL MEN AND OTHER CHIMERA If Pegasus could fly tonight with me upon his back, then I'd believe in ideal love, for me there'd be no lack. If Unicorns and Griffins played, in parks municipal, then I'd believe in ideal mates. I would! I will! I shall! If Manticores could be house-trained, if Sphinxes could be pets, then I would find my ideal man. I will! I can! Oh let's! But Oh these creatures are not real, and I must face the truth. The Ideal Man existeth not. Or by now, there'd be proof.		KEEP IT CLEAN I'm going to buy a cream sateen settee, embossed with flock in white. I'm going to cover it with plastic and we'll lie on it tonight. I'm going to seal some velvet cushions inside 5mil polythene, so when we roll about on them they'll easily wipe clean. The Wilton will be covered with protective see-thru mats. We won't have mice or gerbils; We won't have dogs or cats. Our plants will all be plastic- no leaks or water spills. And we'll robe ourselves in Durex for all our rubberised thrills. No touch of flesh, no bodily fluids, no blood, no tears, no sweat. We'll live our lives hermetically sealed- no contact, so no threat. We'll double-glaze the windows to keep out noise and dirt. But most of all we'll lock our hearts protecting them from hurt. But now I come to think of it, I'd be better off alone. It's more hygenic, don't you think? -and we can still talk dirt by phone.
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BSE by BSE Don't beef about the boeuf if you barf your surf and turf. If your stewing steak is tough or your beefcake's rather rough, don't talk a load of mince about the quality -since- if your cows they eat each udder (which they do- it makes you shudder) then you can't expect your pasty to be anything but nasty!			LE COEUR CONSOLÉ Though I stray and though I wander, though my words on page I squander, Oh what sorrow, oh what woe, for I can never be Rimbaud. He wrote only in his teens, I've already decades seen. Different age and different gender - not to mention he's a bender. Rhyming 'cross the world I go, though I can never be Rimbaud. Oh what sorrow, oh what pain. But at least I needn't shag Verlaine! More about Rimbaud

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