Poetry by Jeff Green


A-lass-in Essex

by cricketjeff on August 11, 2011.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved

A friend of mine will spend the weekend camping,
In Essex, on an island, while it pours
Yet she can’t stand the sound of spiders stamping
Across her floor and that’s not out of doors.

She tends to moan the summer sun’s too chilly,
And knows she’ll freeze in old North-facing flats.
She’ll either die or learn her needs are silly,
I’ve never seen a tent with thermostats.

I hope she copes with rudimentary cooking,
A billy can is not a microwave,
I giggle at the thought she’ll be there looking
For lamps to rub to conjure up a slave.

The genie of the lamp appears to say
Good Mistress here’s your Chinese take-away!