An apology and a daft poem

Hi,

I’m not sure how many people have seen the blog, but if you have and were wondering where I’d been for the last few days, I’m afraid I was struck down by a vicious attack of mundane reality.

It began on saturday when my daughter’s Grandma was due to collect her for a night away from home. She was looking forward to it and , so was I. I don’t get many free nights, these days. The problem began when I needed to find the car booster seat that my daughter legally has to use. No problem, surely? It was in the car. The car key is always in my pocket. Not on Saturday, it wasn’t. I couldn’t find the darned thing anywhere. Grandma was disappointed, my daughter was gutted and I was desperate.

It has taken four days to find it. The alternative was paying a garage over £200 to get a new one.

Anyway, by way of an apology, I thought I’d give you a poem about something close to my heart…or rather close to another part of my anatomy. It came to me one day when I was full of self-pity and wondering what could possibly be worse than being in my shoes. The answer was obvious.

Ode to my pants.

Underpants, underpants where have you been?
We've been on your bottom, unloved and unseen!
Underpants, underpants what did you do there?
In that noisome world of foetid foul air?

We coughed and we spluttered, enveloped by fume
Occasionally catching a glimpse of a room,
Bright and cheery with shiny gold taps
And a porcelain pot in which clear water laps

Then 'tis down 'round the ankles with no 'by your leave?'
Loud claps of thunder that make the ground heave
Our vision of paradise only too brief
And then stolen away like a purse by a thief!

Up we go and get hidden away
In those sweaty old jeans 'til the end of the day.
Does it then get better? No it does not!
We're thrown in a basket and left there to rot.

Jammed in like sardines with the bras and the socks
Before being half-drowned with the T-shirts and frocks
Round and around 'til we're dizzy and sick
Then hanged on a line by a hard wooden stick

Still, we're counting our blessings that you are so nice
We've seen the rack and the branding device!
For whichever offence those shirts were booked
They didn't deserve to be flattened and cooked!

Take pity now, we've had a hard time
Don't shut us away without resaon or rhyme
Could we please have a turn at being a hat?
We're sure that people would marvel at that?

To be honest, I have often worn my underwear on my head since thinking of this, mostly indoors I have to admit. To my daughter I call them the ‘underpants of power’ and claim that they give me super-powers…she is not convinced!

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About marcuscanon

I'm a bit eccentric, but honest and open. I live in a beautiful part of the world with my daughter, cat, guineapigs and a motorbike called Bella. I'm a mechanical engineer by profession, but now write books, sci-fi with my own personal (slightly deranged) twist. My passions are endless, like my curiosity. I love music, art, people, nature, pebbles...you get the picture. I detest intolerance.
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