"gammon" poems
one April dusk the
sallow street-lamps were turning
snowy against a west of robin’s egg blue when
i entered a mad street whose
mouth dripped with slavver of
spring
chased two flights of squirrel-stairs into
a mid-victorian attic which is known as
O ΠΑΡΞΕΝΩΝ
and having ordered
yaoorti from
Nicho’
settled my feet on the
ceiling inhaling six divine inches
of Haremina in
the thick of the snick-
er of cards and smack of back-
gammon boards i was aware of an entirely
***** circle of habitués their
faces like cigarettebutts, chewed
with disdain, led by a Jumpy
***** who played each
card as if it were a thunderbolt red-
hot peeling
off huge slabs of a fuzzy
language with the aid of an exclamatory
tooth-pick
And who may that
be i said exhaling into
eternity as Nicho’ laid
before me bread
more downy than street-lamps
upon an almostclean
plate
“Achilles”
said
Nicho’
“and did you perhaps wish also shishkabob?”
11k
Lying
Betwixt, between,
I have swept my cheek ever lightly so
Against your soft skin,
Emanating measured heat from within
That which your columns suspend
Brands my brow with a silken kiss.
Only the tilt of my head
Need I to inhale your essence,
A dart of my tongue to sample your sweetness;
My fingers dizzy with your warm lubricious invitation.
A gammon cradle, my dome lovingly lulled to rest,
My pressed lips linger to either side their fancy;
Now and ever more, I uncontrollably remain
Yet a willing vassal of your thighs.
-----ChawzzyScript
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 1:12 AM UTC
So, we accept the love we think we deserve?
Is that why she's in my bed tonight,
crying over some guy who couldn't give her more?
I gotta tell you it's true, but it's not right.
She's a queen, an angel, or at least a saint.
She'll make you smile any time of the day.
When the colors start to fade, she gets the paint,
and she'll make it look good in a different way.
I don't know how she finds the will to smile,
after all the cruelty the world has shown her.
But even on her darkest days, after awhile,
there's a light that just shines through her.
I know she deserves only the best in this world.
How can we prove to her she's better then she thinks?
I've never met someone more deserving then this girl.
When she cries for these guys, my heart sinks.
I've never met someone who could love and care
despite being thrown curve ball after curve ball.
but still, no matter what, she is always there,
to help the ones she loves when they fall.
One day soon, the one who could love her the best
will show up; he'll walk right into her world,
and show her why she deserves better then the rest.
I want this. I want happiness for this girl.
Sarah Gammon ©
7/31/2013
I love my best friend, and I wish the world would treat her better ♥
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 2:06 PM UTC
Our love is soap.
Our love is clean clothes on the dryer by the radiator.
Our love is coffee and cream with a spoonful of hope.
Our love is a gammon roast and a baked tater.
Our love is clean dishes and foamy dish rags.
Our love is fighting for the water in a tiny shower.
Our love is our journeys to the grocery store with all our reused plastic bags.
Our love is watching you play video games hour after hour.
Our love is lemon flavored body wash getting in my eyes.
Our love is being too stubborn to quit.
Our love is the thought of me leaving making me unable to cope.
Our love is getting up and sorting it.
Our love is soap.
Feb 12, 2017
Feb 12, 2017 at 2:28 PM UTC
In the night, I was tucked away,
fast asleep at the end of day,
and along came a spider,
so quick and so confided;
He grabbed and he clawed,
in my bed, he broke the laws.
He bit me, he spit at me;
his lips were poisonous on me.
I fought so hard through it;
my beauty sleep gone to ****
The lights were out, in the dark,
he reached into my heart.
My skin was hot, cold with sweat.
His hands and my life met.
The darkness grew darker,
and so did my life...
because along came a spider.
Sarah Gammon ©
20/09/2008
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 8:41 AM UTC
A pig sat in my back yard
seventy pounds of lard
thirty two pounds of gammon and ham
and bacon for the frying pan.
There's a chicken that I can see
and she's laying eggs for me
but I really love fried chicken
so I'll have her for my tea.
A duck with pluck came for a look
at an orange on the tree
I put the two together
and I'll have them both for tea.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 3:56 PM UTC
the time has come
when walking home
with two loaves of bread
and a pack of gammon rashers
makes you really feel
like you're bringing home
the bacon
I have seen sights
that are from the movies
I am Legend comes to mind
the whole world become
greedy grasping zombies
out for their own personal gain
we have turned our backs
on community compassion
left with a void
once filled with toilet roll
and pasta
queues outside supermarkets
marshalled by police
people stockpiling petrol
***
we're supposed to be on lock down
where the hell are you going
the old and vulnerable
pushed to the kerb of life
thrown from the safety of a pavement
now reserved for the big enough
to elbow everyone else
out of the way
but today I have bacon
and bread
today I can have a sandwich
Mar 26, 2020
Mar 26, 2020 at 6:49 PM UTC
You never saw the inequality, or the folly of chasing a rainbow,
woe,
while you were eating bread and cheese and lusting after mammon
the fat cats in their white maybachs
were chewing on lean gammon,topped with creme la more
and the more you chased, the less time they wasted on you,
boo
how do you feel when you've been down at heel, and they're wearing shoes by choo,skin cared for by la roche,
did you ever feel that posh?
Well it's just a waste of feckin time,I'll only ever get what's mine by kicking down the built up shells wherein the rich man sits and dwells while counting out his ill got gains,
and me,poor me wrapped in the chains of misery and have not got,
I'd have all rich men shot,
but who would take their place
who'd be poor in my master race? not I
but then I'd die as well
I'd be locked inside the shell counting gelt
opening one more notch upon my belt,I'd be fat, a cat,another rich man, rat man, take what the man can
I can imagine it
drowning in **** and surrounded by money.
Ain't life funny when you've got it all,you've got sod all and in some big hall,you hold small *****
and that ain't a laughing matter.
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 2:15 AM UTC
Along came a spider,
with claws full of fire,
burning alive with a horrid desire.
It was the dead of night,
no safety in sight;
and his hands held me tight.
He bit and he clawed,
he broke all of the laws -
and no one had saw.
His hands burned my skin;
he ripped deep within...
my body used in sin.
The darkness grew worse
as he laid his curse,
and my life did disperse...
because along came a spider,
filled with a deadly desire.
Sarah Gammon ©
16/01/2009
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 8:42 AM UTC
I’ve never ‘got’ football,
always felt like a bruise
I wasn’t sure how I’d got
or a changing room joke that involved
small ***** or arcane bullying
Perhaps my tutelage was bad
but the pattern in my head
is gammon woven
with misogyny, bigotry
and misunderstood pride
But these boys,
with unhappiness and graft built in,
with ‘other’ credibility,
broad shoulders, tough chins,
make me think that with my time again
I’d have listened
So to them, I opine:
you’ve earned a win,
and have one
Jul 11, 2021
Jul 11, 2021 at 9:38 AM UTC
No words can express my love for him, or describe how I feel so sad,
So instead, here are a few words about the things that made him my Dad.
That huge precious smile when you bought him his favourite apple pie,
The fancy golden clip he would use when he wore his smart shirt and tie.
The way he used a bar of soap to slick back the sides of his brown hair,
His warm wholehearted hugs that fully engulfed you in his love and care.
The pure happiness and pride on his face when I received my degree,
And I don’t think I ever heard him turn down a single cup of tea.
The way he would shout out loud to me “Gemma, what’s the Liverpool score?!”
That cute excited face he would pull when visitors came to the door,
“Don’t leave it so long next time” he would state when guests had to say goodbye,
Watching Beauty and the Beast there would always be a tear in his eye.
The way he would sing along to Elvis Presley loudly in the car,
The many different stories he would give to explain that same old scar.
His love for a gammon steak, always swap the pineapple for fried egg,
Showing me he needed the toilet by gently tapping his right leg.
A bacon sandwich every Saturday, lots of butter on his bread,
The way he’d nuzzle into his pillow when I tucked him into bed.
Our TV was so loud you could hear John Wayne at the end of the street,
The way he would dance along to music while still sitting in his seat.
Playing the lottery twice a week, convinced that one day he would win,
How his kind blue eyes would light up alongside his famous cheeky grin.
Good natured and happy, always smiling and rarely grouchy or sad,
There will never be anyone as wonderful as my dear old Dad.
Jul 4, 2023
Jul 4, 2023 at 3:33 PM UTC
A cataract to truth is cloudy violence
A cataract to truth just spits at science
You wear Your home team tinfoil hat
no need for jabs, don’t wear a mask
You spend your cash as you make it fast
No time for “them” or your income tax
A cataract to truth is cloudy violence
A cataract to truth just spits at science
You live in your fog of privilege
you’re rich white trash and you’re ignorant
You’d rather lose a hand than help an immigrant
But your daddy got you shares in his business
You wear Your home team tinfoil hat
a pricey suit but still no class.
Ya Gammon, Ya Gammon
You ******* soulless Gammon.
~ I Everett
Jun 28, 2020
Jun 28, 2020 at 11:49 AM UTC