Puds

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My wife, a chef, didn’t like meringue,
She thought it was far too sweet,
Then her first attempt at it brought no harangue,
But some customers entirely replete.
The truth is she never made any desserts,
Because she had a savoury tooth,
But now her loins are truly girt,
She’s a pastry chef forsooth!
She now dabbles with the creme brûlée,
The Tarte Tatin or Bombe Diane,
She’ll knock you up the odd soufflé,
Try stopping her if you can!
(I do not wish to because I have always loved puds!)
© Caro Ness 2015

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Canale Vacchelli

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Lombardy poplars
Lining a canal
In Italy
A waterway
Straight as a die
The snow on the ground
Has picked up
The blue of the sky
The trees are mirrored
In the water below
Giving the world
A symmetry
And the landscape mimics
An Impressionist painting
By Alfred Sisley
© Caro Ness 2015

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A Wannabe

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I wannabe, wannabe, wannabe famed,
Though I’ve really no talent, well none that can be named.

I wannabe, wannabe, wannabe cool,
So teens, male and female will faun and will drool.

I wannabe, wannabe, wannabe known,
So I no longer have to go dining alone.

I wannabe, wannabe, be a celeb,
Although I am just an ordinary pleb.

I wannabe, wannabe, be on TV,
So wherever you look you’ll see a virtual me.

I wannabe, wannabe, seen as real class,
So the casting directors can crawl up my arse.
© Caro Ness 2015

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