This came unbidden to me the other morning,
I have no idea how or why,
I was sitting on a bench at Chesham Station waiting for a train into central London when all of a sudden, there it was. The first line, then the second and third lines and then the rest.
Perhaps it was beamed into my brain by a passing UFO.
As I sat there at the station, mulling over what had just formed in my brain, I began to cross examine myself, then to overthink the reasons why I might have concocted such a poem, then I just accepted that it was what it was, took my phone out and wrote it down before I forgot it.
And then I got to thinking that it was somebody else’s poem, something that I’d read, then forgotten and then “remembered” as I composed it in my head.
I Googled furiously, furiously Googling, but no; the opening line was nowhere to be found. It must have been my own invention.
I posted it on Facebook and most of the responses I got were of the, er, bottom centric variety.
Oh, come on people, there are over 50 sphincters in the human body and not all of them are to do with poop! They are a very important muscle without which the body wouldn’t work as it does.
So, here for your delight and delectation:
What’s In A Hole?
The sphincter is a wondrous thing,
Let’s some things out,
Let’s some things in.
Let’s other things in,
And some other things out.
Hurrah for the sphincter,
Let’s give it a shout!
So much for impromptu poetry.
2 thoughts on “Impromptu, inappropriateness?”
There once was a peculiar tincture,
which affected all but the sphincter,
Add three further lines and send to your local friendly limerick society
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