The lighter side

A short relocation poem about tannins
by T Gaskin

Damian, based in South for sins,
Located now in St ‘Albins’.
He's finding 'tea' the major source
of feeling homesick for the North;
The water yields a heavy slick,
He serves the tea in wedges, thick.

Tetley, Typhoo, Yorkshire Gold,
(He's not very posh if truth be told)
PG, Clipper, 99 brand,
(that's 'Co-op', which the South have banned)
They all just taste of muddy water,
The tea 'don't taste like what it oughta'.
And even cups in cafés, dear,
Where you would hope the water's clear,
They put the milk in on the bag,
with water cool and high price tag.
Despite a search Home County-wide,
He's just not being satisfied.

At night, with bag and mug he roams,
and pines for brews of Northern homes.
So cheer him up, for goodness sake,
Pop in for slice of tea and cake.

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the lighter sideArchive

Chocolate by Steph

No, really, thank you. I'm trying not to eat it.
I haven't eaten chocolate since January 1 2004.
I tell a lie, I had a single, hard, dusty Terry's All Gold
At my Great-Aunt's on the weekend of the
14th January, just to be polite,
But nothing else.
Not even any chocolate products,
Because that's always a bit of a cheat
Isn't it? Chocolate products.

No machine dispensed hot drinks,
No full fat American malted shakes
No Bourbons, no mousse, no parfait
No mississipi Mud Pie or even Death By...
No Hob Nobs, no truffles, no after dinner mints

No Whispa, Kitkat, Galaxy Cadbury's Caramel
And Toffee Crisp
Eaten together very quickly in bed
A packet of crisps between each course
To cleanse the palate
Followed by a short nap amongst the wrappers

No Walnut Whips, the walnut bitten off The teeth edgingly sweet, white foam licked out, The hard mouth filling shell Bitten and crushed, melted and swallowed claggily

No twix, biscuity and sweet, double pleasure
Eaten on the stairs
Wrappers hidden in my pocket
Shoved into someone else's wheely bin,
Left defiantly on the table.
No Whispa in one hand, shopping swinging

Pockets bulging with more,
Must be gone before I get home and have to share,
Have to admit I'm eating it.

But if only you could, face down
In a bucket of hot melted chocolate
Shining with extra butter,
Just drink deep and know you weren't coming to the end,
Not in this life.
But that in the Great Here-afterwards
Someone would wipe your face with a hot flannel,
Laugh indulgently, wrap you up in fresh white sheets
And leave you to sleep
Completely safe and whole.

No, one piece of chocolate is never enough. I had to give it up.