how we scrambled for seconds

treacle puddings creamy trifles,

tables bespattered with bread

pellets like bullets from rifles

we seemed always hungry then

the playground burned it away,

we dreaded chemistry, wanted

fried SPAM and chips each day

in here we don't eat so much

seconds not much in demand,

less boisterous too, for silence

usually gains the upper...

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Hand Count

Sixty times a minute

I have travelled round this face

Three thousand six hundred times an hour

I have faithfully kept pace

Eighty six thousand four hundred times a day

I’ve ticked along

Six hundred and four thousand eight hundred times a week

Always right and never wrong

Eighteen million one hundred and forty four thousands times an average month

Relen...

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