douglas scotney (boomer / Toowoomba, Queensland, Australia. Resides in Adelaide)
Cinnamon + = plus
Since Xmas time it seemed I'd seen
The + on hot cross bun,
But hadn't bought a one.
I thought I wouldn't bother,
But brought back two on Maundy Day,
Ate one, left out the other.
I now can tell the sight of cross
Is nothing to the smell:
For breeding thought of body dead
+ dread sweet smell of hell.
And you who've had the scent around
Since bun first hit the shelf?
You who notice hell no more?
Your hell will hit next Tuesday when
There's bun no more in store.
Comments about this poem (Cinnamon + = plus by douglas scotney )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley