THE SLIDEA Poem by Phil Roberts
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A metaphor for life here It isn't This is about the slides we made as kids One of our winter sports When the snow was on the ground We would pick a place And tread it down over and over Until it was compacted and hard Then we would slide and shuffle our feet on it Until it became shiny and slippy Then we would slide on it until it became longer and glassy By then it was a proper slide And you could charge other kids Usually marbles or conkers To use your slide for a while Capitalism starts young So one day I was up and out early Working diligently on a wonderful slide And it positively gleamed in the morning sun But I had made an unfortunate error My slide was on the public footpath Right outside our front gate And along came Mrs Cooper Naturally, the inevitable happened It was, after all, a very good slide Some might say.....lethal Well, her shopping bag flew into the air Closely followed by her feet I don't remember much about Mrs Cooper But I do recall that she was rather rotund And wore enormous pink bloomers Which in itself was rather scary Obviously, I tried to help her up But her weight took us both back down She shouldn't have used language like that In front of a kid my age You won't be surprised to read That I suffered the consequences I'll bet my arse was sorer than hers And I was made to pour salt All over my beautiful slide By Phil Roberts © 2016 Phil Roberts |
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1 Review Added on August 23, 2016 Last Updated on August 23, 2016 AuthorPhil Robertsmacclesfield, north-west, United KingdomAboutI'm from the north-west of England where the rain lives. I am retired and a grandfather to many. I've led an "interesting" life, i suppose you could say, with lots of laughter and a few tears, like mo.. more..Writing
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