Countdown Conundrum Poem by Joe Hughes

Countdown Conundrum



A well cultured banker's voice
Belies his reality.
I discover him surrounded by papers,
Used meals-on-wheels cartons,
Full urine bottles.
He deals with me in a rapid, curt way
On the phone before my visit.
In reality, he is lonely, dirty and obese.
Living four floors up,
In the midst of commuterland
He tests people's true values.
His neighbours rush to work and back again
Spending time on Saturdays at Habitat and Ikea.
They ignore him - hurry home
To watch digital television from Ikea chairs,
Resting their fine bone china coffee mugs
On Habitat tables.
Meanwhile he dozes, spilling lumpy custard
On his faecally damp, rancid slippers.
The cold juice from the tinned pears
Dribbles, unseen, down his calf.
He suddenly awakes,
Mops the juice with his untissued fingers,
Fumbles for the remote control,
Changes channels - repeatedly -
England is losing the Ashes,
The Countdown conumdrum is mintgened! `

COMMENTS OF THE POEM

Dear poet friend, Thanks for your message on cool breeze. Poet, in my opinion, is supposed to spread the message of love and brotherhood and poem is such medium for that. So many readers have liked my poems and that gives me the satisfaction which can't be expressed in words here. Perfection in language.I personally think should not have any hindrance. tks for your frank opinion. Regards

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Joe Hughes

Joe Hughes

Drogheda, Ireland
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