Pancakes share a growling affair
To boost the morale of the monster with
jowls

Still

hibernating
inside a despairing mind of an almost self redundant writer

groans unable to fit into an unremarkable, once favoured racy red garter.

This poem is quite silly
I could throw a goat in here and call him
Kill Billy…

Because he had a penchant for consuming plenty pancakes with half fat cream cheese

Sell them on the hillside,
he did.

Not far from
ole blighty

With a spring in his hooves,
a dapper smile,
a shimmy in his groove.

Singing through a mouthful of home made shove

This isn’t a poem!
These are words to be damned to the books of ,’oh, Crikey’!