I’m depressed, said the bellpush to the thumb,
and suffer endless ringing, until I succumb
to constant pressures, when jabbed for long.
So please be gentle; don’t press too strong.
Though firm, round and hard when I was born,
I yield to the grind, said the black peppercorn:
Me too said coffee, although I’m seldom refused,
after I'm roasted, and my grounds hotly infused!
I suffer a split personality said Nutmeg: my fate
is to lose my appeal (peel), when my kernel, they grate
to join Mace. That’s the skin in which I am clad,
which makes a spicy additive. It really is too bad,
but my life’s a whirl, said the busy spinning wheel,
and no one knows how warped and twisted I feel,
spending hour after hour in never-ending gyration,
reeling a bobbin dependant on my constant rotation!
Whereas I, said the needle, have a unique ability
to make a point. Though it adds to my capability,
It’s a darned nuisance having to repair holes of size,
relying solely upon the size and state of my eyes.
Next, the steam iron, bragged it could flatten anything,
whilst the electric kettle, then professed it could sing
in harmony with any tuning fork that could thrum a tune,
Ii both were allowed to harmonise and softly croon.
I’m a hoot said the Trumpet Vine, and gave a toot!
Whereupon the Bugle Plant, snorting a derisive snoot,
said, “you’re nothing but a social climber, whereas I
remember my humble roots, and such as you, I decry.”
Then we heard the woes of the fairground Carousel.
Suffering from “ highs” and “ lows,” it thought it hell
to go nowhere! This, despite having seen many sights,
and dizzy from constantly working depths and heights!
But the final word belongs to the toilet brush:.
Bristling with anger, it possessed a red flush!
Perpetually plunged into the depths of despair,
its only avenue of escape, was a place somewhere
unthinkable! It had had enough of its dead end job,
and was wasting away! At working it was no slob,
but it was a task not to be relished nor recommended,
having no future of merit, should fall-out be suspended!
At this others agreed, his was a dead end job
be it working for peasant or the richest Nabob.
There were few positions, few notwithstanding
to be found as lowly. Be it sitting or standing!
Rhymer. May 22nd, 2018.
A little tongue in cheek rhyme to cvounteract Spring fever!
