The penquin woke me in the night,
Shattering shards of glass,
Resounded up the stairs,
And, through cheap B&Q veneer.
Naked I sprang,
From soapy dreamworld,
And, grabbed a dumbell,
Armed myself with a second,
To hurl at my bedroom invader.
And, then, seige interrupted,
By late night Radio One.
Soap dish dancing in the bathroom,
On cracked Welsh slate,
The penquin had lost its goggles, again...
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Comments about this poem (Penquin Tales by Garry Smith )
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