A Rubbish Poem #08

My final “Rubbish Poem” of the year.

Happy New Year to all. Beware The Beast.

 

Ohseventhirtythree

On the last morn of the

Year,

The bins out in the streets

Packed deep with excess festive

Cheer.

 

It’s cold outside,

In here, it’s

Warm,

Safe inside, ignorant, we

Await the coming of the

Storm.

 

The dogs lie sleeping,

Curled cosy in their

Beds.

What canine dreams are running

In their once fierce wolfy

Heads?

 

Ohseventhirtysix

And the sky begins to

Glow

With a cast of amber movement

From the street outside

Below.

 

Now Man’s best friends

Are stirring, as sounds reach to their

Ears.

They stretch, they yawn, then tremble

Recalling ancient

Fears.

 

They hear Her as She lumbers

Along our street to

Feast.

They bark and howl in fury

At the arrival of 

The Beast.

 

She approaches slow and steady,

Minions flanking along both

Sides.

Sat up high upon Her golden crown

A Hi-Viz clad captain

Rides.

 

Captain steers The Beast, he drives Her on,

Ever seeking out our

Sins.

Troops march the streets help and

Her gorge on treasures from our

Bins.

 

Ohseventhirtyeight,

And Twenty Nineteen continues to

Fade.

Now fulfilled, though briefly, She backs slowly away. Though

The Beast will soon return, to feast once more, on our new

Decayed.

One Comment Add yours

  1. Sarah Dimmock says:

    Are we having a series for the next decade? ❤️

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