Fishy Poems by Max Flatchen

I wonder at the jellyfish

That like to drift and drowse

And seem to wear without a care

A kind of see-through blouse.

A fish had remarked to a chip,

‘unless we give them the slip,

When the fat starts to fry

I’m afraid it’s goodbye

And it won’t be a very nice trip.’

A hungry shark some bathers eyed,

His wife said in the spray,

‘How would you like your food, my dear,

Eat here or takeaway?’

by Max Fatchen

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mrhearne

Russian and Welsh poetry uploaded on alternating weeks. Occasionally other poems. Occasionally reviews of literature, films, theatre, food and drink. Any support via comments, likes, follows and subscribing is appreciated.

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