P.D. Turner Poems

P.D. Turner Poems

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2The Impossible Poem

Best Poem of P.D. Turner

The Impossible Poem
I have a friend called myrtle,
Who really liked a turtle?
That was coloured purple,
Jumping over a hurdle,
Running in a great big circle.

And began to whinge,
She didn't have a syringe,
To put in an orange,
She wanted to tinge.

Myrtle has a friend called Wilbur,
Who went . . .
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© Monday,06 October 2014

Iron web reaches the sky.
Spiders of men create within and high.
Of glass metal stone and ply.
Homes long in sight to buy.

Ladders ring to climb the rung.
Golden backs swirl in delightful flung.
Deposits fall on to agents tongue.
For a price war hung.
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