Call A Flower
By Jonny Ballsac
Knee deep in the fountains of youth,
Up to the elbow in broken truth
The flower waits and wilts.
The hollow green glow of his Nokia
died when he cracked it off his wok, yeah,
Cauliflower stirs the porridge.
He sits and answers those who call
yet is no use to one and all,
A cauliflower and a ball gag.
Terrible, the look of this hair
it never seems to go anywhere
but here, there and nowhere.
Time on the bell shall knell,
on Larry's spike he once fell
and drank strawberry wine.
Cauliflower's feeling fine.
Copyright © 2002; Irish Poetry Explosion. All Rights Reserved.