RSS Feed

The Grum…#Poem

The Grum

I’m off to the Grum,

I’d shout through the door.

Horseshoe embankment,

red ash park floor.

Witches hat towering

over basic park ride.

Tunnel embankment,

for children to hide.

Swings made of old tyres,

on thick heavy chain.

Twisted to spin round,

n’ scramble one’s brain.

Fort made of thick logs,

to clamber about.

Or maybe to fumble,

hit floor with a clout.

But then there’s our favourite,

the forty foot slide.

With a bump in the middle,

gain air on the glide.

Waxed to perfection,

with candles we’d bring.

Riotous laughter,

in horseshoe would ring.

Butterflies and grasshoppers,

on banks we would catch.

Grazes and Grass stains,

our colours would match.

But grass banks we’d scramble,

or steep concrete climb.

For slide of excitement,

Time after time.


A § M 


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: