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Thursday, 10 May 2012

SLOBBER


A poem by my alter ego, Hamish Sheaney, on that annoying bodily struggle with colds and flu.....

The dribble-drool of the moist slobber

ooze-drips a slop-spill of saliva

in the mucous pool.

I wipe a slime-stream mingled

with the salt-sweat wetness,
gather several spots of snot-grot
in my sodden nose-blot hankie

and head off to Boots to collect my prescription.

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