<![CDATA[PAGE & SPINE - P-JUN '13]]>Mon, 19 Feb 2018 00:52:23 -0500Weebly<![CDATA[PHILLIPPA ROSS]]>Fri, 28 Jun 2013 08:16:09 GMThttp://pagespineficshowcase.com/p-jun-13/phillippa-ross3


My Daddy taught me how to cast I hold the rod and take the stance
Then fling the line and sinker past
and hope that bait has half a chance

This vessel's old but full of charm
no leaks or holes and well afloat
As I extend each tiny arm
Dad's fishing genes I shall promote 

I sit and wait, well just a bit
then wind the reel and check the line
My rod is bent, this could be it
"Oh No - It's weed!"  Perhaps the sign... 

of how my day is going to be
I hope to snare a biggish fish
I'll take it home and brag and we
will scale and gut, Mum cooks - Delish!

Tick, tock, tick, tock... 

Oh alright then, the tally: Naught
I only seem to snag the weed
No limit bagged, that's nada caught
an empty haul, quite tough indeed 

I'm giving up, this ain't for me
for catching fish is kinda hard
But surely it's impossible
when Daddy's boat don't leave the yard!

copyright 2013 

<![CDATA[PHILLIPPA ROSS]]>Sat, 22 Jun 2013 06:41:03 GMThttp://pagespineficshowcase.com/p-jun-13/phillippa-ross2



If Hesitation is your name
your best friend's Indecision
Though sadly, pals you truly lack
are Clarity and Vision

They're foes along with Confidence
who butts heads with Confusion
And good mates Sure and Certainty
not fans of Inconclusion 

Meander, Stall and Pussy Foot
won't topple Self-Assurance
And Dilly Dally can't relent
with Persevere's endurance 

Assertive is the greatest mate
Unwaver loves Intention
So get down off the bloody fence
And you might rate a mention!

copyright 2013

<![CDATA[PHILLIPPA ROSS]]>Fri, 14 Jun 2013 07:41:42 GMThttp://pagespineficshowcase.com/p-jun-13/phillippa-ross1



I've often had the urge to fly the coop
I'm just so fed up, playing Mother Hen
That fowl play's all I ever duck and swoop
Their bad yolks by the dozen, times by ten

My cock will always wake me in the morn
The pecker-head gets up at five A.M.
His crowing cacaphonics pierce the dawn
All silent, peaceful sleep-in's, he'll condemn

I'm well aware that spur-heeled squawking freak
May jump me from behind, to my disgust
If CockSure scruffs me one more time this week
Potential bum-nut blockage, then I'll bust

The six inch high excretement mounts the perch
That filthy stench of chicken shit is rife
My feathered egg-bound britches are in search
Of better opportunities in life

I think I'm getting cramp in both me legs
I'm sick of hatching all these friggin' eggs...

copyright 2013

<![CDATA[Phillippa Ross]]>Fri, 07 Jun 2013 08:32:13 GMThttp://pagespineficshowcase.com/p-jun-13/phillippa-rossOUT OF MY SHELL 
I'm just a crayfish in a bag
they bought for Christmas dinner
I would have been a tasty treat
and made their meal a winner

But I was left there, by the fridge
the bag without a label
And no-one gave a second glance
I never graced the table

No lousy damn acknowledgement
don't care if I sound petty
This shafted shell-fish in a bag
was getting hot and sweaty

They laughed and joked and all the while
ignored the bagged crustacean
So soon I started simmering in
tangerine frustration

Their celebration came and went
unnoticed bag abrewing
My juices turned, my meat would taint
i.e. internal stewing...



If only they could understand
I'm no good left in plastic
If only they had thought to look
I would've been fantastic

If only I could warn them that
my epiderm is oozing
If only they'd just spared a thought
as they continued boozing

They passed me thirty times or more
that afternoon in question
Quite surely now, I'm way past go
and may prompt indigestion

Well all of them can go to hell
the bag has started leaking
Unfortunately, this will be
the last time that I'm speaking

I'm just a bag of crayfish
that was passed by and forgotten
But give it just a week or two
They'll find me once I'm rotten!

copyright 2013