Hello PoetryVoting

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy poemsNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy poemsNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

Message

Jill. Fred phoned. He can't make tonight.

He said he'd call again, as soon as poss.

I said (on your behalf) OK, no sweat.

He said to tell you he was fine,

Only the crap, he said, you know, it sticks,

The crap you have to fight.

You're sometimes nothing but a walking *********

 

I was well acquainted with the pong myself,

I told him, and I counselled calm.

Don't let the ******* get you down,

Take the lid off the kettle a couple of minutes,

Go on the town, burn someone to death,

Find another **** giver her some hammer,

Live while you're young, until it palls,

Kick the first blind man you meet in the *****

 

Anyway he'll call again.

 

I'll be back in time for tea.

 

Your loving mother.

h
Written by
Harold Pinter
1930-2008 / English
Lines·Words
18·132
AboutBlogFAQPrivacyTermsContact
© 2009-2026 Hello Poetry/v27.0 by @eliotyork
Explore
Hello PoetryVoting
Write