The Spoonbill Generator

Exceptions That Shimmer

Mine is the cat that is eating your trout [Apsley]

And the trout that doth harry your worms [Surlaw]

The worms are the diet of clerics of Rheims [Apsley]

The reams are your papery terms [Surlaw]

The terms, once agreed, are bottomless dreams [Apsley]

From which you will never get out [Surlaw]

Mine is the head that is holding your brain [Shipp]

And the brain that inhibits your bile [Surlaw]

The bile that blocks up Horseferry Road [Apsley]

Where all of us rowed for a while [Surlaw]

A while that was spent as the mis'rable toad [Apsley]

That sha'n't be upbraided again [Surlaw]

Mine is the pike that does long for a staff [Apsley]

And the staff that have threatened to quit [Surlaw]

Quit once the bergh that the citizens flee [Apsley]

Whom fleas and their kinsfolk have bit [Surlaw]

A bit of old string is a treasure to me [Apsley]

And surely I'll have the last laugh! [Shipp]

Mine is the snake that will fester and rot [Apsley]

And the Rottweiler panting for blood [Surlaw]

Deep in the passage where darkness is light [Apsley]

And truth is as crystal as mud [Surlaw]

In our understanding, which is not so bright, [Apsley]

Dozens are harried by blemish and blot [Surlaw]

Mine is the hake that doth prance 'fore the dawn [Apsley]

And door-knob forever displayed [Surlaw]

Down in the market-place, hard by the Pole [Apsley]

Where the ice is the tip of the trade [Surlaw]

And the journeymen find no ease for their toil [Apsley]

Transmitting their spices and spawn [Surlaw]

Mine is the goat that doth gnaw at your disks [Apsley]

And the disco you dread to attend [Surlaw]

Near to the fish-pool, hard by the stream [Apsley]

Where ink and inanity blend [Surlaw]

Into a mixture far richer than cream [Apsley]

To be supped intravenous, in spite of the risks. [Surlaw]

Mine is the lime that you dug from the pool [Apsley]

And the pool of red blood in the street [P]

Next to the hydrant, hard by the mains [Apsley]

Where the so-called utilities meet [Surlaw]

And hideous mutants breed in the drains [Apsley]

And dream of outgrowing the sturdiest rule [Surlaw]

Mine is the pitchfork that grows in the stream [Apsley]

And the streamer festooning your grave [Surlaw]

Bedecked, as it is, with the ashes of those [Apsley]

Who've never known how to behave [Surlaw]

When the windows are lit by a substance that glows [Apsley]

With lust from a wholly unspeakable dream [Surlaw]

Mine is the threadnut that spangles and whirrs [Apsley]

And the world you affect to disown [Surlaw]

Hard by the forest, next to the birch [Apsley]

That so tortive and errant has grown [Surlaw]

It essays its own grief to besmirch, [Apsley]

And gravely inherits the blight and the burrs [Surlaw]

Mine is the goatherd that strangled the dawn [Apsley]

And the doorknob no turkey can turn [Surlaw]

Save for the cock bird called Latvian Sam [Apsley]

Who is cowering under that fern [Surlaw]

Pecking away at the stump of a ham [Apsley]

And laughing his neighbours to scorn [Surlaw]

Mine is the hencoop so lonely and strange [Apsley]

And the strain geriatrics endure [Surlaw]

Whilst they are washed with a flannel of string [Apsley]

In a hip-bath on loan from the poor [Surlaw]

Such is the pateince that nurses will wring [Apsley]

From moated Marie at the Grange [Surlaw]

Mine is the jacket all splintered and torn [Apsley]

And the Tor Nellie Dean would bewail [Surlaw]

Patched as it is with the serpents of yore [Apsley]

That were shredded last night in the gale [Surlaw]

Shredded to pieces of skin, guts and gore [Apsley]

And frogged in spaghetti and spawn [Surlaw]

Mine is the penfriend in far distant climes [Apsley]

And the climbs every hill-walker dreads [Surlaw]

Straddling stratospheres, ten upon twelve [Apsley]

With the veins on the tops of their heads [Surlaw]

Into the sunsets where goblins might delve [Apsley]

In their quest for unquenchable rhymes [Surlaw]

Mine is the hacker who spoils all your disks [Apsley]

And the disco you put to the torch [Surlaw]

Near to the grotto, full of old twigs, [Apsley]

That the flames were unable to scorch [Surlaw]

Though serving-girls used it as for their digs [Apsley]

In complete disregard for the risks. [Surlaw]

Mine is the story written last year [Apsley]

And the year it will take you to con it [Surlaw]

Full of ripe pathos, dripping with rage, [Apsley]

An endlessly run-to-seed sonnet [Surlaw]

Yet you will not resist any page [Apsley]

Any serving girl, bright in her bonnet, [Surlaw]

Mine is the herring, dripping with fat, [Apsley]

And that's that ... [Surlaw]

Mine is the coda you tried to forestall [Apsley]

Quoth St Paul [Anon.]

Mine is the eggcup, and eek the walrus [Apsley]

... [Anon.]

Yours but the silence that ever endures [Apsley]

... [Anon.]

How can one end this if words will persist? [Apsley]

... [Anon.]

Contributors: Apsley, Surlaw, Shipp, P, Anon..
Poem finished: 22nd November 2000.