Poetry Blog by Yvonne Brunton

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John Coopey on Kitchen-Made (Mon, 7 Mar 2016 08:21 pm)

M.C. Newberry on Kitchen-Made (Sat, 5 Mar 2016 06:33 pm)

Yvonne Brunton on The Wedding (Fri, 5 Feb 2016 08:41 pm)

Stu Buck on The Wedding (Fri, 5 Feb 2016 07:59 pm)

Adam Whitworth on The Wedding (Fri, 5 Feb 2016 12:53 pm)

Jemima Jones on The Wedding (Fri, 5 Feb 2016 10:43 am)

John Coopey on The Wedding (Fri, 5 Feb 2016 10:26 am)

Fellynny on The Wedding (Fri, 5 Feb 2016 04:02 am)

Robert Mann on THE BIRTH (Mon, 1 Feb 2016 05:42 pm)

Adam Whitworth on THE BIRTH (Wed, 27 Jan 2016 12:04 am)

Kitchen-Made

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Kitchen – Made

 

Don’t sell me a kitchen!

 

I just don’t want to know –

Your gadgets, hobs, and worktops,

Your spotlight’s subtle glow,

Shiny, curved , steel handles,

Soft-close, wood-style doors,

Bright glass shelves and swan-necked taps,

High-line look or drawers,

Integrated washers, hidden corner racks,

Larder units towering

With my shopping neatly stacked...

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The Wedding

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The headache wasn’t the worst of it.

The police came,

A young constable smirking  - openly.

What had he done?

What had they done?

 

Countdown to the Big Moment.

Ticking bomb

Exploding in a frenzy of confetti.

What had he done?

What had she done?

 

A dream in a froth of white

Floating around,

Music pulsing through clinging couples.

...

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THE BIRTH

See, hear, my little one.

Your senses tuning finely to Earth’s

Undulating, rhythmic waves of ageless,

Age-old lifeforce

Pulsing lifeless forms to life.

Measured heartbeats drumming out

Life’s message

Through the ether, ever nearer

Farther than the furthest orb

Twinkling its cyclic orbit

Ever onwards

Through the ebony-black, empty-black

Dark.

Forcing: nothing;...

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creation

Spare The Rod

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Chris Grayling smacked his children.

He decided to admit

When their behaviour worsened

And he got tired of it,

A short, sharp shock administered

Was of great benefit.

 

Too late the gasps of horror

And do-gooders sharp moans;

Too late to whisk the ‘victims’

From a caring, loving home.

The stable door is open,

From the coop the birds have flown

...

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The Ballad Of The Artful Dodger

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J Roger Platt, insignificant chap

Had an ordinary sort of employ

But his wife was a martyr to his penchant for barter –

DIY’s what he used to enjoy

What he couldn’t do with an old tube of glue

And a short piece of string or a tack

Wasn’t worth wr...

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comedy

Old Age

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Pepped up with pills and various potions

 

Zimmer frame ready to help forward motion

 

Wired for sound and to aid dicky ticker

 

Capsules to slow it - or make it go quicker

 

Now where's my bifocals to help me to see

 

- and all this just so I can go for a wee.

 

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agehumour

Citizen's Lament

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CITIZEN’S LAMENT

 

Oh to be in prison now that April’s here.

The council tax is rising

And they’ve upped the price of beer!

The kids want pocket money

The wife wants – well, don’t ask!

When all I want’s a simple fag

And ale straight from the cask.

 

Oh to be in prison now that April’s gone.

There’s nowt good on the telly

And they’ve built a bigger...

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humourprison

On Social Strata

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Don’t look askance upon my lowly stature on the ladder.

Your great disdain even to shake my hand

Says more about your character than mine.

 

If your nose turned up any more, the rain would soak your brain – but -

No great damage there.

I think your little grey cells have crawled,

Like embryonic spiders,

Into your deep, slow-sucking crevasses of sel...

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A day in the life of comp

The Great Burger Stakes

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I went to my freezer – I fancied a scoff.

 

 

I opened the lid and the burgers – THEY’RE OFF!

 

And what would you like on your burger today?

Ah well, now you’re asking – a fiver each way!

 

I’ve has burgers from Asda,  but I can disclose

That the burgers from Tesco, they just won – by a nose!

 

To decrease burger fat is our serious ...

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comic

MOUNT OLYMPUS

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I

Am a

Steep, silent

Scree-strewn slope

Of furry, fir-tree foliage

Bewooded, bewitched, Byzantine

Patterns of pebbled mosaics, austere

Variations of grey and white and green,

Where life clings by its root-tips to the thin

Dun-streaked pockets of lime-strewn loam. Linking

Arm-in-arm,  along the crests and cre...

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MOUNT OLYMPUS

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I

Am a

Steep, silent

Scree-strewn slope

Of furry, fir-tree foliage

Bewooded, bewitched, Byzantine

Patterns of pebbled mosaics, austere

Variations of grey and white and green,

Where life clings by its root-tips to the thin

Dun-streaked pockets of lime-strewn loam. Linking,

Arm-in-arm  along the crests and crevices, stand stern

Sylvan sentries,  t...

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The New Me

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Verse one

I’m going to be a model

I’ve got a master scheme,

To nip the spots and wrinkles

And be a catwalk queen.

 

Verse two

I think I’ll have some botox

To end my facial frown

And then I’ll try a detox

(I can almost see my crown!)

 

Verse three

I’ll go for liposuction

To midriff, rear, and thighs,

It will be my introduction

To my...

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Forever

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FOREVER

 

Forever is a twinkling light far out where the black is empty

Is the forever I see the same one that you see?

What happens if we overshoot forever

In our eager flight through time?

 

Forever is a tolling bell whose tones call low and clear

Does your forever sound like mine?

What is the tune you hear?

What happens if the rhythm slows?

...

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Oh!  I'm gobsmacked! Thrilled but gobsmacked!
I've been so mesmerised by the paralympics I never looked at my computer this weekend.
I feel quite humble given the great poems that were entered in the comp.
Thank you all you who voted for '100 metres' and thanks to Graham for organising the comp. XX

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It's not the flame that counts...It's the fire in our hearts

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We waited hours for the torch to pass;

Helicopters hovered,

BMW bikes rolled platoons of police (all high fiving)

Past our aching feet

And flagging flags.

Spirits slowly sank,

Euphoria evaporating under the scouring sun.

 

Then the Murmur approached.

Life returned to our lifeless limbs

As acrobats cartwheeled along the white-lined tarmac;

A who...

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WOL Olympic Competition

Us Nolimpics

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Us Nolimpics

 

We wuz  avin a  Nolmpics

Me bruvver Burt an’ me

Cos mum ad gorra strop on

An we cudden wotch no TV.

Well ah didden mean no arm

She didden need ter get so shirty

Ah only put our Rex in t’washer

Cos ee got hissen so dirty.

 

An, anyow, Burt didn’t mean ter

Break the green’ouse glass

But ees not reet good at football

An ee miss...

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WOL Olympic Competition

100 metres

Thump  thump

Thudda thump

Thump 'On your marks'

Thudda thudda  thudda

Thudda thump  thump thump

Breathe thudda thu...  'Get set'

Twitch, thudda, thudda, thudda

Tense, breathe, thudda, thud, thud,

Tense, br...  'Crack! ' thudda

 

One: Go! Go! Go! Stride!

Two: Go! Push! Thudda thud thud thud

Three: Go! Stride! Push thudda

Four: Stride burn strid...

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WOL Olympic Competition

Us Nolimpics

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Us Nolimpics

 

We wuz  avin a  Nolimpics

Me bruvver Burt an’ me

Cos mum ad gorra strop on

An we cudden wotch no TV.

Well ah didden mean no arm

She didden need ter get so shirty

Ah only put our Rex in t’washer

Cos ee got hissen so dirty.

 

An, anyow, Burt didn’t mean ter

Break the green’ouse glass

But ees not reet good at football

An ee mis...

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WOL Olympics Competition

The Wrong Sort of Train

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Four days after I wrote this, the following article appeared in the Daily Telegraph:-‘A train company blamed “the wrong sort of passenger” for the problems some had in reaching London for the celebrations.’

 

The Wrong Sort of Train

 

We’re sorry the trains are not running you know

Tomorrow we hope they’ll be fine

But nature has dealt us a sad autumn blow

There...

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delayshumourtrains

Nuclear Cradle Song

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Nuclear Cradle Song

 

Bye, baby, bye

Cry, baby, cry

You cry so do I.

My tears have all run dry.

So cry, baby, cry

 

Cry, baby, cry

Bye, baby, bye

No use in asking why

Our dreams fell from the sky.

So cry, baby, cry, baby, cry.

 

Bye, baby, bye

Cry, baby, cry

No one to hear you cry.

No one to hear us try.

Oh, cry, baby, cry,...

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babieswar

Kitchen - Made

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Kitchen – Made

 

Don’t sell me a kitchen!

 

I just don’t want to know –

Your gadgets, hobs, and worktops,

Your spotlight’s subtle glow,

Shiny, curved , steel handles,

Soft-close, wood-style doors,

Bright glass shelves and swan-necked taps,

High-line look or drawers,

Integrated washers, hidden corner racks,

Larder units towering

With my shoppin...

Read and leave comments (4)

House Hunting

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HOUSE HUNTING

 

There’s one, over there!

Where?

There – between the trees.

 

Oh! Too late, it’s gone!

Gazumping off, up the ante.

Can’t keep them in cheque!

 

I could have called in the

Loan Arranger

To help track it down again.

 

But well, the government’s starting

A breeding programme.

Soon all the fields will b...

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houses

Whisker

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                                                   WHISKER

 

A whisker on the window sill

Means feline’s been around.

She didn’t leave her pawprints,

She never made a sound.

 

But I know that she’s been there,

The evidence there still:

A little, wispy filament

Upon the window sill.

 

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cats

Cecil the Saint

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Well it's that time of year when slight spasms of patriotism spring forth from the rusty breast:-  April 23.

Hack, hoping for scoop in the village,

Overheard blacksmith tellin’ by forge,

Of a beast bent on rapin’ and pillage,

‘Yeah, he sorted that dragon, by George!’

 

So, ‘George Slays Dragon,’ read headlines,

Which couldn’t be further from t’ truth,

Our Cecil w...

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St George's Day

WOL Prize Received

Ah deep joy and mucho cebrelationy at the earlybirdicle arrivipod of my competitiodle prizeward.

great thanks to all my fans ( both of them) ta mum and dad and to my fellow poets for their kind comments and of course to Winston anD Maisie.

Yvonne xx

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The Newberry Dye-Pass Crossing AKA The Rules Of The Road.

Lynne Dye inspired MC Newberry. MC Newberry outspired me!

 

'Mentally flossing' - there's a phrase I quite like                         

And simple to do whilst riding a bike.

Not sure I'd indulge when approaching a crossing

For the risk of a front tyre its pattern embossing

On any pedestrian, young, old, or infirm.

Look right, left and right. Oh, when will they lea...

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A Cup

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A  Cup

 

She was young and she was slim

Not much meat packed in her sleek skin

But the whisperings of a surge

Of life’s procreative urge

Were looming high on her horizon now.

 

Oh, pity this poor lovelorn lass

Whom life’s sweet pleasure’s sure to pass.

She has no curves in any place

To bring a glint to suitors face.

She feels that life will leave ...

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Spring in the High Peak

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Spring in the High Peak

 

 

The raggle taggle skeins of snow rimmed the hills and huddled forlornly in the shady corners of the winter-weary fields.

Tucked into threadbare hedgerows, glistening crystals prismed the shafts of pale sunlight scything through the battleship-grey cloud-shards ragged by the bitter wind of the North, and beamed jewels of hope to the porcelain-blu...

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Spring

Kushagarnie

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Kushagarnie

Chorus

Kushagarnie, kushagarnie

Baby on your mother’s knee

Kushagarnie, kushagarnie

Eating marmalade for tea.

 

Buy a rainbow for a penny

Tie it to a tumtum tree.

April showers for pretty flowers

Give them marmalade for tea.

 

Wrap the wind up in a wigwam

Till it blows a melody

Children dancing, horses prancing

After marmal...

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nonsense comp

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Read more …

inFLUence

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inFLUence

 

 

I wonder what flu bugs look like

Inside a Petri glass,

They’ve made my life a misery,

It’s my turn to kick ass.

 

I’ll prod and poke and squeeze them

And stick them down with glue,

I'll pour on lots of chemicals

To see if they turn blue.

 

I’ll find an antibody

To match their jagged form,

To jigsaw up an...

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Eesless

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Lo, our sun now fills a wan sky

with such wondrous light.

This magic god-star brings us our warmth and joy

and, from on high, his mystic rays

pour through dark and scowling clouds.

 

Our thoughts will not accord him thanks

nor ask why our souls must always try to

climb out of a soft cocoon,

a warm and loving womb,

to gain an unknown star ( so cold, )

...

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My Violin (the Musician’s Tale 2 )

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My Violin  (the Musician’s Tale 2 )

 

I’m trying to learn the violin

Wretched guitar’s neglected

Since chords and me just don’t get on

A new instrument’s selected.

 

But when I draw my bow across

To play a gentle tune

The notes escape with manic screams

Like air from a balloon.

 

I’ve studied all the tutors.

I’ve practised all the scales

B...

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I'd call it Tetractys but I can't Spell it

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( AKA)Lovely  Jubbley

               I

               Once had

               Frozen  ice,

Tasting orange

In a wax-covered cardboard tetractys.

 

Maybe it was just a tetrahedron

Sloped sides full of

orange ice.

It was

Nice.

 

with thanks to J silkstone for introducing me to this medium.

Whoooo    Whoooo    Is there anybody there?

 

...

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Daddy's Child

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As our boys come home today wreathed not in glory but in flags

 

 

You never knew your daddy, child.

You never saw his smile.

Your baby hands and baby smile

Will never him beguile.

You never felt his arms so strong

Yet tender, full of care

You never felt his arms so sweet

Brush gently o’er your hair.

You’ll never hear him sing you songs

At bedtime...

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My Guitar

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I know the music's in there.

I've heard it, seen it played

As someone else's fingers

Across the strings have strayed.

 

So why, when I attempt to play

G sharp thirteen augmented,

Does my guitar just sound like it's

A banshee that's demented?

 

I've tried my riffs and rock licks.

I've tried classical and free

But still the music's locked inside

...

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The Agropuss

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I thought I saw an Agropuss when I was out one day

The morning it was moisty as the clouds all surfed away

But it was not an Agropuss that caught my skandric eye:

A Blunderhound had chanced upon my path and loundly cried...

 

“Who dares to trip, this moisty morn, upon this field of mine?

I must insist – ‘No Tresspassers’” Did you not see the sign?

His jaungreen...

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nonsense comp

Peace?

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In the quiet between the wars

Lies a suspicious unease

Generating desperate attempts

At placating hostile forces.

Concealing inward-facing, jingoistic feelings.

 

 

"We must, above all, be politically correct

In our struggle for international probity."

Love thy neighbour in public

Whilst plotting his downfall behind his back.

 

 

Steely ...

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Wait for Weight

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After MC Newberry's excursion into the niceties of English grammar ( Knowing the Difference), I couldn't resist:-

The grocer's apostrophe,

Once the domain

Of dry academics

Who'd quietly complain,

Is nothing compared

To the pain we endure

Now that we can't weigh

In pounds anymore.

 

The little, old lady,

In metric unsound,

Asked for her carrots

...

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Message From School

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‘Mummy, Mummy, school today says we must wear fancy dress’

Blood pressure rising, hardly surprising:

Message from school always causes home stress.

 

Football matches, Christmas play, jumble sale and bake-a-cake,

Blood pressure rising, hardly surprising,

Message from school always causes headache.

 

Homework schedules, exam days, Parents’ ...

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If I Only Had The Words

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Trapped inside my brain

Ten thousand fledglings wait

Each sparkling with hope

Within this hopeless state.

 

In their unfettered world

They jostle to be free,

Yet one by one the flame is gone –

They shrink and die in me.

 

Oh! Womb of future past

Where birth pains sear,

Ambitions fear

And Creativity

Disappears,

 

In darkest night

...

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Gulf War Special

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Oh, it will all be very jolly when we ship you off to war

‘cos Hussein’s a cruel bully and it's time he was no more.

With your call-up papers posted, pack your kit and oil your gun,

And we’ll ship you to the desert – you’ll enjoy a bit of sun.

 

Anthrax jabs, Malaria tabs,

Boil up your billy for your rat-pack bag.

Things don’t look so bad as we’re firing on Baghda...

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The Kiss

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My Dear, the very mention of your name

Can strike the spark which fans my longing into flame.

One lingering touch’s enough upon my skin

To turn the smouldering heat to fire within.

 

I sense your mouth, my pulse is rising higher

Your lips meet mine and fill me with desire.

Stronger than pain, yes, stronger still than fear,

The force that pulls me to your arms my ...

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The Photograph

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On the little table by her bed

Dusty lampshade, fringes shabby-draped,

Casting forever-shadows,

On the faded photograph.

Long fingers of dark space waiting at the edge

Like memories now faded and

Forgotten in her tired mind.

Little-girl eyes stare vacantly,

Trustingly, at beyond our knowledge.

 

Picture has slipped in its frame

Mind has slipped in its...

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The White Line Factory

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Where do they make the white lines

We see on every roadway?

Are they albino black lines

They chose to throw away?

 

Surely there’s a department run

By a grey-suit government minister

Who monitors the rights of lines

To make sure nothing sinister

Is happening to minority groups

Of lines single and double

(If we use one instead of two

Will we ...

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