Poems.

Salad Sandwich
My favoured lunch needs loaf and leaves
Any green objects to hand
Slice, arrange and serve
I feel no need for fancy names.

Spring Onion
A pitch like being six and waking up at seven
Stripped and ended
Chopped
Do your rings show age?
Who'd've thought your strength was such
To haunt us in a whole day's burps?

Carrot
We've not always been close
I prefer you crisp not limp
But soft retaining flavour
One day you must tell me
Your optimum boiling time

Mushroom
Once my enemy
Swore you're flesh
Bit a few times, too scared to chew
So swallowed
For the pains I blamed your surfaces
Gutty fats and underneath that hat
Those dark lines hiding insects
Always so rotten looking

But now

I celebrate my new tolerance
By relishing your blood


Tomato
The burst too good
I am empowered
A seedy shower
The tiles to be sponged

When clean-knife slices
You spill your content
I have once again murdered
And I shall never be sent to prison

Conker
I once dreamt that I was fellated by a giant fly's head
I look to you conker as symbol of free entertainment
And as moderate problem to insurers

T-Shirt
You are my default and I owe you
Saves us all for my flapping bare torso
Creased and spilt upon
Keeping me normal

Chip Fork
We find you everywhere
But never give you the respect or attention
That the designers might have

Two or three spikes
Plastic or wood
Great for clearing my wisdom teeth