Oh no, not again! Im afraid so!
(with my sincerest apologies: the Editor)

Spring Potato Goes Boing!

I have put on my finery of green,
Of taffeta and milky snowdrop pearls,
The mincy bondage trappings of a queen,
Such as strikes terror in both boys and girls.
Bright eyeshadow, yellow as daffodils,
Graces these eyes of luminescent blue,
And as the cherry blooms unfold their frills
I bring my silk-clad kneecaps into view.
Elation grips me now that Spring has sprung,
Oh come and chase me in the open air,
Come, bring your riding crop and aqualung,
Come prance around in leather underwear!
For Spring has fired the blood and freed the rein;
I'm ready for my public once again.

© by The Potato of Terror, 2003

 

 

Spring Greens Not New Potatoes

O cruel chef, lay down your instruments
Of tuber torture, steamers and deep pans!
Away, those jagged sharpened implements,
Such bitter ends were never in our plans.
Consider new potatoes in their youth,
Their fresh-faced, beige, be-freckled innocence.
We must protect them from the bitter truth,
For they are fragile babes with no defence.
For shame, in such a warm season as Spring,
To be sadist to tuberescent souls,
To throw them, with the barest seasoning,
Into the gaping pits of salad bowls!
Remember, in the first new flush of Spring,
A new potato is a fragile thing.

© by The Potato of Terror, 2003

 

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