Poet Authority Poem Terminal

Offered Ivy to the counsellor.

Slow Jeremy stared at his feet.

Something he liked to call 'funeraling'.

Thankfully he'd zoomed right in,

So he landed on Aldi.

It was, to be fair to him, a little out of his comfort zone.

But he was fairly confident he could manage.

He cried in some drab corner,

Rested his head on his suitcase,

And wondered if he could get a refund on the room.

Specialising in eggs.

He acquired some chickens from a local dealer.

Planted them in his allotment.

And waited for the magic to happen.

He texted his parents.

'I'm going to become a billionaire'

It said

'You've really let me down with the circumstances of your birth'

It continued

'And my own, too.'

Which was actually water but I was attempting alliteration.

The tipple timed to 'terrupt today's toil.

Which means he drank his drink so it would slosh its way out of his bladder during work hours.

He had his name embossed on there along with a short description of his achievements in accounting.
Edwin bolted it to his house and invited colleagues over for a small celebration.

Then down a hole.

When he finally reached the bottom of the hole he started shouting.

'Help I've fallen down a hill,

And a hole.'

This wasn't the sort of situation Jeff Spencer liked to find himself in.

Especially while feeling a little dizzy.

She apologised to her fellow lifters,

Informed them she was loaded with lactose intolerance,

And set about the balls of mozzarella she'd acquired.

Or the Rev,

As he liked to be called.

Offered his wife,

Who shall henceforth be referred to as 'Rev's Wife' as she's not very important,

A full rundown of his expectations.

'Much like Jesus,'

He said,

'I'm going to be needing to eat nothing but chocolate eggs for two weeks.'

Rev's wife couldn't be bothered to argue,

And plodded off to Sainsbury's.

He became tangled in the wires.

'Where's Frank?'

Is the sort of question friends might have asked.

Inspected the new village's notice board for things to do in the area.

Opted to join the local swingers club,

Because that's all the village had going on, really.

Mallory took along one of her famous pies.

And got repaid in kind.

Kevin watched on,

Looking pretty glum about the whole event.

A couple of bags of jelly babies for dessert.

And vanished for another year.

Not just any funicular,

An Italian one.

It seemed mostly like tourists in here,

So I wasn't getting many Italian vibes from it.

I gazed out the window at the Italian scenery.

Imagined the Italians below,

Doing their Italian things.

Ludwig's week had gone quite poorly.

Calamitous might be a good word for it.

He bought an eraser from WHSmith and set about removing those days from his calendar.

At least then no one else would remember what happened there.

Yet another failure.

This plant found a home beside his bed,

And from then on Fernando would often bring gifts for it.

Like little ornaments to stand in the dirt,

Or possibly a hat if he thought that would be amusing.

His wife looked on enviously.

From the sleeper's drool.

Awakes in fright,

Of what occurred overnight.

Sheets fresh and unsoiled,

Now rest spoiled.

I log in to Domino's.

Go all in with the Italian options,

And await my delivery.

Knock, knock goes the door,

And knock once more.

The entrance to my home peeled back,

I squeeze a 'molto bene!' through my frowning lips.

Accept the concoction the driver offers in return,

And stagger forlornly to my bed.

Despite no requests for the room to be cleaned.

This was a disaster!

Bertrude began composing an apology,

Noting she would have never left underwear on the floor if she'd have known,

Asking what she could do to make up for what had happened.

She stuck this letter to her hotel door,

And cried herself to sleep.