Christopher Thumwood

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.
...

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.
...

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.
...

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.
...

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.
...