The art of dying  hair  is hard to master

I confess to writing this disgusting villanelle for LockdownOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Photo by Mike Flemming,Copyright 2020

 

The art of dying’s very hard to master
You only get one go, you  have bad taste
Kick the cat and  she will  only scratch you

Go  out of lockdown with a tasty ass,where?
You may get an STD, go haste
The art of dying…. who taught Sylvia Plath there?

If you married ask  your love to crush you
Get a ton of bricks dropped on your waist
Kick the cat and  she will  only scratch you

Go to Beachy Head,  hire  folk to push you
Take some matches go out in a blaze
The art of dying  hair  is hard to master

Wear a label ,ask the sick to touch you
Anger all of Sussex with your haze
Kiss the cat and  she will  rarely scratch you

You’re  near the end, but still  have many days
Don’t leave here until you cause disgrace
The art of dying well,  does God now thank you?
Kiss  my hand and  I will  come  to love you

 

The cobbles in the road

My bonsai beech has blended with  the yew
And in it   little wrens have made a nest
A robin, so much  bolder,passed by too
In late spring the birds make us feel blessed

As a child I had no garden home
The  girls and boys  with balls and ropes make play
I laugh to think we went out with no phones
The cobbles in the  road held marbles stray

We had no trees,we had coal mines and mills
My aunties’ faces lined and worn  still smiled
With their sugared tea were bitter pills
Each a  single tear shed  by   the  Christ

Arsenic and opium combined
Which will win the contest for our minds?