The Toast

He raised his wine,

Just to lower it twice as far:

A half-arsed toast.

The window scene Swung full into view:

Five other guests, who of the botched

Behest, were ignorant. The culprit had

Burrowed his eyes into a stain,

Whilst his failure snapped his neck at

90º.

He looked silly between the laughing bottles,

Like skinny jeans and gel amidst four

Women in corporate noir.

The kind of faux pas

To make a man say

“I am just going outside and may be some time.”

Peter

Peter was a funny boy

Who’d masticate raw cabbage;

He’d drop dry leaves into his mouth

And crunch them like a savage.

 

Peter was the kind of boy

For whom the age-old adage,

“Eat your greens and you’ll stay lean”,

Was stooped in excess baggage.

 

Peter was a quirky boy

Who made up his own language,

Codifying leafy greens

As pudding good enough to ravage.