Hard Brexit. Soft Brexit.
Wave-your-arms-aloft Brexit.
Quick Brexit. Slow Brexit.
Eat-it-on-the-go Brexit.
Smooth Brexit. Rough Brexit.
Creamy-powder-puff Brexit.
Damp Brexit. Moist Brexit.
Putting-Britain-Foist Brexit.
Fat Brexit. Thin Brexit.
Bear-it-with-a-grin Brexit.
Sliced Brexit. Ground Brexit.
Decline-of-the-pound Brexit.
This Brexit. That Brexit.
Hold-on-to-your-hat Brexit.
Black Brexit. White Brexit.
Shove-it-in-your-pipe Brexit.
Ant’s Brexit. Dec’s Brexit.
What-is-coming-next Brexit.
Which Brexit. Why Brexit.
Big-bus-with-a-lie Brexit.
Rich Brexit. Poor Brexit.
What-was-life-before Brexit.
Wet Brexit. Dry Brexit.
Makes-me-want-to-cry Brexit.
Broke Brexit. Bruised Brexit.
Clothed Brexit. Nude Brexit.
Doomed Brexit. Dead Brexit.
Can’t-get-out-of-bed Brexit.
Brave Brexit. Weak Brexit.
Despair-by-Clinique Brexit
Tim Brexit. Pam Brexit.
Why-is-there-no-plan Brexit.
Bruised Brexit. Broken Brexit.
The-People-Have-Spoken Brexit.
Arthouse Brexit. Absurd Brexit.
Just-think-of-any-word Brexit.
Sponge Brexit. Punk rock Brexit.
Flip-flop-hip-hop-chip-shop Brexit.
Donald Brexit. Brexit Brexit.
Brexit-Brexit-Brexit Brexit.
Month: June 2017
Stuck for Words
The problem
of writingpoems
inhot weather
isthatthe words
getsweaty
and sticktogether.
Love in the Time of Cauliflower
Please marrow me, my beloved sweetpea,
so that we may beetroot to our hearts.
Lettuce have the courgette of our convictions
and our love elevated to Great Artichoke.
Don’t leek me feeling this way, my dear,
such lofty asparagus can’t be ignored.
I am a prisoner, trapped in your celery;
Don’t make me go back to the drawing broad beans.
We all carry emotional cabbage:
love is chard and not inconsequential,
but may our passion be uncucumbered
so that we reach our true potato.
Oh, how your onions make my head spinach,
reduce me to mushrooms, broccoli, defenceless.
Only you can salsify my desire,
and I, in turnip, will radish you senseless.
love poem, inadvertently written with auto-carrot switched on
Brian Bilston's Poetry Laboetry 