ANNA PHYLACTIC

Here’s a poem I wrote ages ago. I thought it deserved another outing.

lyre

Anna Phylactic liked to give shocks
Wore on one ear a brightly striped sock
Her singular hair she dyed a warm pink
Rubber plunger on breasticle [think sink].

She plaited her toes and removed all her nails
Dressed in a kilt and wore a silk veil
And then when she shopped she always used skates
Or herrings, if trimmed to just the right weight.

On Sundays, in order to vex the prim vicar
She turned up to church wearing only a knicker,
On the day of Ascension she mounted the spire
Played a selection of songs on her gold plated lyre.

And then when she died she continued the trend:
She’d arranged that her glass bottomed coffin ascend
Which showed off her bottom, bare but tattooed
Instructing the crowd, ”It tastes better stewed.”

The thought of mad Anna, now sadly departed,
Especially when I’m a little down-hearted
Puts a smile on my face and brightens my day
My troubles just seem to be whittled away.

Those that are different and stray from the norm
Who refuse to be sheep-like and always conform
Are vital to gain the knowledge we thirst
That is if we don’t do away with them first ………

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