From out the Isle of Shepherd’s Pie
A sight to make mere mortals wince
There came a navy
of potatoes, wavy
And an awesome army of unsavoury mince
Forward thrust the evil hordes
Whose goal would be my palette’s end
Breaching past my vocal chords
My gag reflex might never end
Tumbling, rumbling down my throat
Lumps of grizzle, gargling down
Plopping in my stomach’s moat
To trigger my instinctive frown
And all watched by the mystic parrot
Who spins the contents, see them whirl
To form reconstituted carrot
Which always show up, when I hurl.
Danny Reynolds
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/strong-029-who-really-likes-traditional-food-when-it-s-actually-just-some-excuse-to-feed-your-kids-leftover-offal-strong/
