Christopher Thumwood Poems

The cheddar bees live, in a hive made of brie,
And a waxed Edam wedge they worship as queen.
Like most other bees they have black and gold stripes,
But unlike other bees it’s not honey they like.
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Once there was a spider who lounged on a leaf, and one day so reclined he fell in love with a beast
A beautiful, marvellous, bovine beauty; a grass chomping, cud chewing, sensuous cutie.
The Spider planned before making his move; ‘Why yes Mr Spider' the lovely cow cooed,
They wandered away and in a week they were wed, they moved to a lean-to complete with a bed.
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One day when I was walking, my mind quite full of dreams
i stumbled on a place where the sky was splitting at the seams.
I peeped through this rip with a wide and beady eye
awed by the view that lay beyond the sky.
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I had a jar once filled with mustard
Now was it French or grey poupon?
It matters not for it's long gone
And in this jar lives something else.
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Eyes that burn unending rage; engaging yet repugnant, hollowed eyes that i espy which flood me with discontent.

The twisted green and mottled brown of the iris pool, a lazy current dragging all into oblivion; shadow black with mirror shine and island all alone, An emptiness that oozes saline poison.
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