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Flowers of the Mind

7 comments


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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Comments

 

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

 

Lol.
Sounds like R. Arkell was sick of gardening.

12 Apr, 2013

 

Love it Ff.

3 May, 2013

 

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

4 May, 2013

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