Stevie Taite Poems
The Making Of The Moon
The moon was born with Earth they say
Two vortex, large and small
Of gas and dusty nebula
And gravitation's pull
Little wind does stroke its land
For mass is sixth of Earth
Which holds down little Atmosphere
Around its smaller girth
It doesn't suffer weathering
Or recycling of rocks
It's craters still look like the day
The meteors gave it pox
The moon it had no H20
No vapour formed a sea
The soup of life was not there served
So remained species free!
The jealous moon so tries to steal
Our oceans from their ...
King Henry's Roast Pig
King Henry's roast pig.
'This orange tastes like pigs crap'
Our brows concertinaed. Our jaws hung
The tooth pierced sack of offending pap
Was spat in the bin, and her sleeve scoured her tongue
I eye balled the black marble breakfast bar
Sort of embarrassed yet slightly amused