I studied numbers infinite in desire.

Western Cork’s  relaxed in winter sun
Unexpected pleasure, though desired
Uncork that wine and let’s enjoy some puns.

No-one  thinks the Irish  need their fun
We may  need to have  our brains rewired
Western Cork’s pole-axed by winter sun

Now everyone has reason to be glum
Sunny days   yet evenings  dark as mires
Uncork the wine and let’s  thwack our own bums

We like drinking when we’re  feeling glum
Spare not the whiskey, hail oh Lanarkshire!
Western folk  write cheques in winter sun

When I get undressed, my lover’s stunned.
My  generous body   shocks his   dark green eyes
Uncork the wine and squeeze  me, juicy plum

I have no kernel , nut, nor night attire
I  studied numbers infinite in desire.
Western Cork  can prove  dull in mid-June
Uncork the wine and let it make us dumb.

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About Katherine

I like poetry and history, literature and music.
This entry was posted in Thinkings and poems. Bookmark the permalink.

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