You always give me your salad.  A poem about salad, loosely ripping off The Beatles.

You always give me your salad

You don’t care about the consequences

I only asked you for a god damn toastie

Why you treat me this way?

You always give me you salad

That rancid lettuce it irritates me

Those shitty onions smell worse than cats wee

I didn’t come here for this

You always give me your salad

Even though I said ‘just a toastie’

It winds me up the way you force it on me

And I get sad.

I didn’t ask for additions

Raw tomatoes give me nightmare visions

Celery it is a nasty villain 

And cucumbers… Bad.

1, 2, 3, 4, throw your salad on the floor

5, 6, 7, 8, keep that salad off my plate
By Lis who hates salad.  Particularly ‘side salad’. 



I survived the Kent Earthquake 2015 – a poem.

T’was not quite 3 o’clock, when I had quite a shock

As I woke from my dreamy slumber.

The flat it did shunt, Craig awoke with a grunt

as the ground shook from way down under

I said “oh my gawd.  It’s not like we’re abroad”

where you expect to get frights, like bumps in the night.

Twitter said 4.3, a tremor enough to make you wee

when you’re innocently counting some sheep

We had a quick hug, then got us all snug

Rolled over and went back to sleep.

By Lissy Lis