Roasted Rudd with Earl Grey Flea and cabbage  [Amber Rudd]

Eggs in May on hay. With bread,butter and pot of tea.

Hot brains with a bed  of mashed cantatas

Pig’s tongue with raspberry horse { Sorry I’m a  Viking]

Curried legs with free hot Boris steamed and battered.

Pudding

Yoghurt with real glace cherries
Real maple syrup inside a baked nipple
Real milk pudding with real sugar.And Cream
Sherry rifle
Bed and buttered hugging.

Watercolour by Katherine.What a shock of shades and hues,
Can I pay with money?
Acrimony?

How much to Wexford?
It’s in the EU now.
So?
You need a Visa.

How much does it cost to Bath on the train?”
“If you can get your feet in the sink, then it’s free.”

How much to Manchester?
They have enough men already

Can I keep  my coffin on the train?
Not if you are dead.

Can I bury St Edmund?
At the station?

If you keep yawning, a fly might get into Yarmouth
Don’t worry there are plenty of flies there already.~

I hear of King’s Lynn a lot.
Those gossips are everywhere.

How about Hunstanton?
Sorry,I don’t like Huns.

How much to Bury?
Where exactly?

s

 

 

The virtuous flower lives out its right design
It  envies none and does not wish for  more
Is faithful to its truth and love combined

 

No human sees its heart or draws the lines
Of grace and beauty, honour at its core
The virtuous flower lives out its right design

To its end, it’s patiently resigned
Fertilised by bees  with their taut care
Is faithful to its truth and love combined

But how should we live with our human signs
The ruminating thought, the anguish bare?
The virtuous flower lives out its true design

Jesus praised the lilies living wild
We must strip ourselves of heavy ware
Be faithful to our truth, our love refine.

Do not fear the tiger,loss ignore
Live   most fully till you are no more
The virtuous man lives out his right design
Is faithful to his truth, the world,his mind.

 

The barren fig tree,God has struck and killed
For procreation is his holy will
Those who fail will suffer all the more
When at the gate of heaven he slams the door.
While those with offspring  grow and pay no bill
Barren woman stand beside the till
Or see their innards ground up in the mill
God has struck
Yet is God cruel like Nature and its drill?
The predator  can prey  and eat his fill
The facts, so ominous, we may ignore
Yet  in a holy book, there is our score
Far away, too far is that green hill
God has struck.