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Flowers of the Mind


Last winter, when I was in bed with ‘flu & a temperature of a 102, I was telling the gardener what he should do.
You must keep the Neurosis well watered, I said.
Be certain to weed the Anaemia bed.
That yellow Myopis is getting too tall,
Tie up the Lumbago that grows on the wall.
Those scarlet Convulsions are quite a disgrace,
They’re like the Deliriums— all over the place.
The pink Pyorrhoea is covered with blight,
That golden Arthritis has died in the night.
Those little dwarf Asthmas are nearly in bloom—
(But just then the doctor came into the room). R Arkell.

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Entertaining poem :o)

11 Apr, 2013


LOL, I never realised untill i got to Arthritus :))))

11 Apr, 2013


Very good!

11 Apr, 2013


love it

11 Apr, 2013


Sounds like R. Arkell was sick of gardening.

12 Apr, 2013


Love it Ff.

3 May, 2013


Meant to weren't well, last time we 'spoke'
How are you now, much better, I hope?

4 May, 2013

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