An impromptu poem for the fellow calorie lovers trying to aschew them in search of a better figure. Essentially, I love biscuits.
The stuff of dreams
A dieting atrocity.
Sugar is the enemy.
But they go so nice with a cuppa tea.
So who gives a damn?
A big mistake
Adding inches around the waist.
My health kick yet again disgraced.
But who gives a damn?
This is a poem for my second love
I’m sorry darlings.
But when push comes to shove
For my health sake you’ll have to go.
The scales will groan.
Actually, who gives a damn?
– Laura Martin, 2012
To commemorate the start of the Euros in Ukraine. The last poem seemed to go down well so here’s one about the footie. Or soccer if you’re American
I don’t care about the football
The latest tournament we’ll inevitably lose.
The hopes of a nation
(or at least some of us)
and inordinate levels of booze.
The way the players behave.
It truly is beggars belief.
These men represent their country
But they act to the contrary.
Their indiscretions between the sheets.
People forget that it’s just a game.
They let it all get a bit much.
Riots and crying
Screaming and whining
Seriously, enough is enough.
Isn’t there other stuff happening?
A financial crisis or political dynamite?
Why on earth does this matter?
Fuck Sepp Blatter.
Lets all just get on with our lives.
As a commuter and extremely bad driver, I find myself using public transport a lot. Very little in this world inspires quite so much bile as Transport for London. Rather than rant aimlessly and angrily, I thought I’d convey my displeasure through the medium of poetry. Bare in mind I am not a poet or even a particularly creative person so please be kind.
Behold! My poor attempt at poetry.
Ode to Public Transport
It’s a funny relationship between buses and I.
I’m completely reliant but I completely despise
paying £2.30 to stand up in rush hour
Surrounded by kids who must never shower.
The crazy old lady shouting at strangers.
Apparently that’s normal behaviour?
The mothers with children that just wont shut up
Just give them some Wotsits, I’ve had enough.
This isn’t my stop but I’ll walk, it’s not far
Sooner or later, I must buy a car.
And as for the trains, they’re not much better
Delays always get longer as the weather gets wetter
Apparently its due to “leaves on the line”
Find a bloody solution, you’ve had enough time!
Hundreds of Metros litter the floor
The twat playing music you just can’t ignore
Fat men in suits with legs spread apart
You feel like crying so you just have to laugh.
Not long now, I’ll be home in a mo
Can’t wait to get off this fucking freak show.