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Spice by Bernadette Richards

Bernadette Richards | December 1st, 2017 | poetry | No Comments

Poem

So uninspired are we after the grenade tossing
That the only name we can find for our dog is dog
Who knew Malay spices could start a war?

It appears the climb from ground floor to middle ground
Includes making Lazarus understand that his kennel inhabits your zoo
The one you took, not the one you worked for

She stimulates temptation by doing her damnedest best
It was silly really, she should know who not to call after six
beers
Is it childish or childlike to think that bygones eventually leave the ruins?
Vexed with contrition
No one cares to truthfully dote on the carer
That’s how the boat grows holes

Poet Bio

Bernadette Richards is from Cape Town. She is inspired by diverse forms of art and believes that creativity is one of the best forms of therapy.

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