The Spoonbill Generator

It's Entirely God's Business

Eleven, six or eight [Roland]

The number of our fate [p]

Magenta, black and blue [Roland]

The bruise I got from you [P]

I celebrate! [Roland]

Upsilon, lambda, pi [TG]

The apple of mine eye [Roland]

Vermilion, cream and lime [TG]

The way we waste our time [Roland]

And, wasting, die [TG]

Across, in front, behind [Roland]

As if by God desgned [P]

Unspeaking, mute and dumb [TG]

By torpor overcome [Roland]

And also blind [P]

Angina, mumps, TB [Roland]

The ills you caught from me [TG]

Uranus, Mars, the Moon [Roland]

The harbingers of doom [TG]

That yet we long to see [Roland]

Alsatian, collie, pug [TG]

Emblazoned on this mug [Roland]

Leaf-mold, fungus, slime [P]

Impenetrable mime [Roland]

For any slug [P]

Maltravers, Thurston, Wade [Roland]

Inventors of the spade [P]

Emulsion, gloss or matt [Roland]

Will suit my festive hat [P]

My lemonade [Roland]

Obtuse, reflex, acute [TG]

The angles of my suit [Roland]

Descartes, Heidegge, Locke [TG]

Their heads are on the block [Roland]

Thus I refute! [P]

Contributors: Roland, p, P, TG, Anon..
Poem finished: 16th December 1997.