Wednesday, 13 July 2011

Poems: Bloody Men

I love Wendy Cope. She's a national treasure and an inspired and funny poet. I was lucky enough to see her speak last year and to have a brief chat with her as she signed some books for me. This poem makes me laugh but not as much as Clare Pollard's tribute to it.

Bloody men by Wendy Cope
Bloody men are like bloody buses -
You wait for about a year
And as soon as one approaches your stop
Two or three others appear.
You look at them flashing their indicators,
Offering you a ride.
You're trying to read the destination,
You haven't much time to decide.
If you make a mistake, there is no turning back.
Jump off, and you'll stand there and gaze
While the cars and the taxis and lorries go by
And the minutes, the hours, the days.


AND ANOTHER BLOODY THING… By Clare Pollard
(after Wendy Cope)
Bloody men are like bloody cigarettes–
A habit you swear to crack,
Then you find you’ve snuck out of the office
To suck one off round the back

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