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"Run down the list, if you please."
"OK. Doc, let's start with these:
An earwig with shin splints,
a worm with heartburn,
A cockroach with a cold-"
"He should have wrapped up like he was told!"
"-A bee with hay-fever."
"She never listens either..."
"A centipede with a migraine,
A fly with wing sprain
And a woodlouse with suspected vertigo."
  "Is that them all?"
"Well, no. There's an elderly spider with a blister on his ***. He can't spin a web to build a trap or home.
There is a grub with possible depression,
A slug with a stomach bug
And a ladybird with gout."
  "Too many greenflies, no doubt."
"There's a butterfly with signs of hypochondria due to a swollen antennae,
no matter what I say he's certain he is going to die.
Now, the last is a delicate imposition: the Queen ant wants birth control,
Because she is sick of her pregnant condition."
Robert Thornton Oct 2010
Fairies and fancies
and flippant romances
and all things bright and gay.

Cream cakes and choc flakes
and raspberry mistakes
rise up in  a spiralling fray.

Blue skies and greenflies
and warm-sugared apple pies
and the scent of freshly cut hay.

Strawberries and Ice cream’s
and mouth-watering Nectarines
succumb to the heat of the day.

Golden-crust pastries
and honey –drenched fig leaves
made in the old-fashioned way.

Piping-hot dainties
with oak-coloured bases
that refuse to come out of the tray.

A gaze up above to a snowy white dove
sees the sky go from golden to grey.

From twilight to moonlight,
from moonlight to starlight
the end of a beautiful day.
Coleen Mzarriz Apr 2020
Beyond words
beyond feelings
beyond music
beyond, you.

Soaking into words
seemed sillier than plunging into water
the lake in the twinkling moonlight.

Beyond words
that I could imagine
the artistry in your eyes
to tell you
how wonderful
the flowers
the lush pastures
the wild greenflies
of the forest.

Beyond feelings
the untouchable kisses
of the moonlight
beaming into the pond
How spectacular?
To look at the wet lilies
lying there it found its tranquility.

Beyond music
the harmony of the crickets
the birds' songs moaning
into the midnight
finding some nests
to have rest
beauty isn't the perfect phrase
that drives it sufficiency
to understand its hymns.

Beyond you
peering at the dear sky
the blueness of your existence
makes it heavier
to lose the sight
of the awe-struck
lips that I couldn't pick up
what you were telling.

My heart-beat echoing yours
it was beyond paint
beyond melodies
of how I wish to define the place
the feelings,
the sonnets,
and you.
Never compare yourself to anyone.
You are great yourself—not greater than anyone, not better than everyone.
But better than your lying mind.

— The End —