Paradise Lost
Hanging fungus yellow popcorn
Bright green mattresses of moss
Rowan berries like orange stars
In the bracken tawny dawn.
But paradise is lost,
You have been warned,
For amongst that ferny universe
Ticks await in swarms
Deer, sheep or human. To them it’s all the same
They sense your heat and din
Pulsating, thick warm blood, that’s their gain
As they drop from frond to skin
Don’t wear shorts,
Don’t leave the path
Get the tick remover ready
And drown them in the bath.
Every black spot brings alarm
They are crawling up so high
You start to itch all over
As they reach your inner thigh.
You need inspecting where you cannot see
But even your loved ones draw a line
They will not look too deep
Where the sun will never shine.
So bend over double mirrors
Twist and turn, a yoga farce
Remember reverse vision,
As you tweezer round your arse.
My grandson Freddie, then aged 10, started this poem on a Lake District holiday. Walking through woods on the way home, he volunteered the arresting opening image of fungus like yellow popcorn. The next day we periodically tried out various episodes and rhymes as we walked. We had been badly ticked earlier in the week, so this emerged as diverting comic horror. I fine tuned it later. The final verse was much appreciated.
MyTMyMhis poem started as a joint venture with my grandson Freddie, during a walk in the .Lake District.. Indeed My grandson, FrteddioeFreddie started it all with the arresting first line im MyMuyage of fungus like yellow popcorn. Periodically, as we walked, we tried out various episodes and rhymes. Later on I fine -tuned.
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