A Degenerate Mouse Called Arthur Poem by Irene C S ClarkHogg
A Degenerate Mouse Called Arthur
I have a little mouse called Arthur
Who gnaws away inside my bones
He is armed with sharp incisors
And metal claws on all his toes.
Today was warm, so Arthur rested
Silly me, I thought he slept
Then, just as I felt complacent
From his hidey-hole he crept.
He's gone to stir up his relations
They're scattered all about my frame
Every year his clan increases
I know them, every-one, by name.
Arthur lives high in my neckbone
He scrambles up and down my spine
Neville nests in my right shoulder
On the other perches Constantine.
My hands and feet are full of mouselets
In my elbows reside Nan and Nell
My knees are getting overcrowded
There's a nesting shortage, I can tell;
'Cos sometimes Arthur's awfully angry
Then daft ideas get in his head
He bites through my electric cables
And makes my arms and legs go dead.
But, I haven't got much time for doctors
Dispensing pills and quaint advice
Conjuring up obscure diseases
When I know it's just my mice.
Here's a wheeze! why not give Arthur a piece of cheese or rub on Vick, very thick! I'm sure that would do the trick Maybe a trap! you could sneak inside, poison I can't abide! ~ I suppose you’re just a house, for that little mouse! nice poem Irene, it made me laugh, regards Bob
What a way to describe the process of aging here. I have osteoporosis and I suppose as it gets a little worse as time goes on, I will think of your poem. I will think of little mice doing their work on my bones. (or maybe better 'not' to think of that stuff as yet) A ten on your poem! Sincerely, Connie Webb
Anyone with constant pain will know what you're talking about. Thank you for this wonderful expression and its superb imagery.
What a clever poem! Little mice instead of whatever it really is eh.... I hope you are feeling well today and those little mice, they stay away...... Put out some cheese upon the floor and tell the mice to gnaw no more. Ruthy: -)
Oh Irene how clever of you to figure out the problems with those aching joints and muscles. I think some of Arthur's relatives must be living inside of me......lol Exelent write.Thank you.....
I had to read this again. It is very amusing. I often wonder what worlds there are inside our world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
12/5/2025 8:09:29 AM # 1.0.0
Age is a mouse degenerating every moment. I think everyone of us has a mouse living in our bodies with different names and symptons. Thank God that your soul is safe and secure from this mouse. A wonderful poem, Irene. Reading of the day infact.......10/10. Regards Naseer