Some poets dream of metre and scheme, of sonnets and couplets that scan,

But there’s one little word, though it seems quite absurd, that exposes the flaw in their plan.

There’s an amber skinned fruit that has been at the root of the nation’s poetic malaise,

This everyday citrus can find poets witless as they stare at a blank page for days.

If one pairs clementine with lemon and lime repetition might make one feel queasy.

The humble Maroc will not cause a block, and Jaffa is laughably easy.

The quick and the keen may use tangerine, and Navel for a spell may endure,

South African Outspan, when tried, will no doubt scan, but kumquat is somewhat obscure.

Don’t think it’s a sin not to use mandarin for its rhymes are quite thin on the ground.

The Israeli Shamouti can turn out a beauty, when no other fruit can be found.

If one sees Minneola as an ace in the hole a mistake might well prove quite a fright,

Pay no heed to that rumour concerning Satsuma, and Pomelo can gel overnight.

Cause a gasp then a thrill over rare Grenadillo, it’s not one that’s heard every day.

And should one determine to use proverbs and German one finds “ Vere dere’s Seville dere’s a vay.”

Should its round shape suit, the commonplace grapefruit may well find a place in one’s verse,

But there’s one so obtuse - sorts the pips from the juice, that it’s uttered by bards as a curse.

For this word can defeat both the brave and the cheat with its obstinate, alien foreignness,

So if one values one’s sanity one should forsake one’s vanity,

And NEVER end best lines with

 … oranges.

 

N.B. This first poem was born from a ridiculous challenge - that of including the word "flagelliform", (meaning: long, thin, and tapering; whip-shaped) - into a poem.

 

She said “For a trifle a jelly forms best

When left in the fridge to cool, set and rest”.

But I desired kisses from her strawberry lips

And was quite disappointed when she tasted of chips.

 

 

“Kiss me Hardy” Nelson said,

As he lay dying on the deck.

And looked into the fat man’s eyes,

Felt chubby hands beneath his neck.

The moustache twitched, he flicked his tie

And rearranged the bowler hat.

Then pecked the Admiral’s salty cheek

What then would Laurel think of that?

 

She had lips like a red leather sofa

Where I was invited to lie.

So I kissed her and told her I loved her

Then left without saying goodbye.