Word-a-day 14 donated by Anon/a parsnip

A Parsnip Tragedy! No issues whatever writing this. I got interrupted and added the second ‘chapter’ later on. But you can enjoy the first on its own.  I wanted to examine an issue but was sick of being so starkly miserable about it all the time. So here we have it. The sad slimy fate of the Parsnip. Enjoy.

1

There was a parsnip
It was stuck
In the ground
And in the muck
It wasn’t very comfortable
So I tried to dig it up

But I didn’t have the tools
‘You can’t help me honey
You got to follow rules’

There was a parsnip
It was stuck
In the ground
And in the dirt
It wasn’t very comfortable
I guess it must have hurt

It wasn’t very cheerful
Even with me around
All I could hear was wind and sun
And a painful growing sound

There was a parsnip
It was stuck
In the ground
And in the earth

It wasn’t very comfortable
I guess it’s been that way since birth

It wasn’t very happy
Even with carrot’s company
It wasn’t pleased
With the potatoes
Didn’t like they way they teased
And as for those cabbages
Well they held a full revolt
‘And on first sight of me’ the parsnip said
‘they all set seed and bolt
And as for the sweet flowers
On those sweet looking garden peas
Well the things they say they’d bring me (if I had them) to my knees‘

There was a parsnip
It was stuck
In the earth
And muddy black
I couldn’t get it out of there
For fear that it might snap

There was a parsnip
It was stuck
In the ground
In front of me
How I wish I could pick that parsnip out
And take it home for tea

***

2

There was a parsnip
It was stuck
In the earth
And in the dust
I know that it was silly
But I think I fell in love
I tried to talk it round but no
‘Leave me be!‘ the root insisted
And as I watched the parsnip grew
Old bitter dry and twisted

There was a parsnip
It was stuck
In the earth
And in the clay
And as the parsnip turned to muck

I could only walk away

8th Word-a-day donated by Muhammad Abdullah Hamzah

My Sense of Being

I have a sense of being
Sadly taken ill
So I leave it in the sunshine
Right on my windowsill
I feed it milk and chicken soup
I hear it makes things better
It’s not allowed outside without
A great big itchy sweater
It always takes its medicine
And gets a good night’s sleep
I make sure it always wears clean socks
And its bedroom’s nice and neat

But after weeks of trying
My sense of being’s still quite sick
I hope that it’s not dying
My chicken soup won’t do the trick
I had a sense of being
But now its lost its sense of smell
I can tell you my sense of being
Still isn’t very well

I have a sense of being
But I awoke to find one morning
My sense had already woken up
While I was still there yawning
It was running round the landing
And climbing on the stairs
Hiding in the cupboards
And jumping on the chairs
It was drinking all the cola
And eating all the fruit
It was playing with the sat-nav
And planning out a route
At this point I had to intervene
Because I found it too bizarre
When my sense of being stole my keys
And tried to nick my car

I have a sense of being
It’s really part of me
But sometimes me and being
Don’t get on too well – you see?

I have a sense of being
But it had a ‘”nasty fall”
And I can tell you my sense of being
Isn’t doing well at all

5th Word-a-day donated by Dan Helgi í Gong

The Evil Salad – ‘Never Turn Your Back on a Salad’

Next time you eat some salad

Make sure you don’t turn your back

You might just find yourself

Under unprovoked attack

One day when sat with my bowl of leaves
Though you might find it hard to believe
I can assure you it wasn’t in my mind
My salad was being unjustly unkind
The chicory couldn’t speak without swearing
The endive insulted the clothes I was wearing
The iceberg was just acting cold and uncaring
And as for the raddichio
He was quite bitter
And the baby gem said ‘Oi ugly! How come you’re not fitter!?’
And I don’t even think a good mind should know
What filth arose from the head of the lollo rosso
I was hassled by the swiss chard
Called names by the romaine
The lambs lettuce baa-ed
And the batavia was a pain
The celery’s input made me blanch
The olives did not extend a branch
The rocket exploded with unhelpful intrusions
The spinach made scathing and hurtful allusions
(And let me take this chance to digress
I overheard the watercress
Persuading the baby leaves to undress)

Eventually I threw the lot away
I never liked salad anyway

1st Word-a-day donated by Mayuko Iriyama

I have a friend
Who has a fishtail for legs
It’s a massive inconvenience down at Tesco’s
And she gets quite
Squeamish
At the fish counter.

When we go shopping she doesn’t normally opt for heels
And she can never get jeans that fit

She prefers calamari
to cod and chips

If I’m feeling particularly mean
I push her over and run
I know it’s a cheap shot
And it makes her self conscious
But she always wins in the 100 metre front crawl.

And even though I think it’s odd
The boys seem to like the whole shell-bra thing.